The Insane Regressor: Throne of Pride

Ravian waited until Lysandra’s presence had faded completely, then turned and made his way back toward Viola Manor.

The two guards opened the gate the moment they saw him.

Neither of them asked about the lady who had gone out with him or why he was returning alone; they simply inclined their heads slightly as he passed.

When Ravian stepped into the main hall, he found Larette standing near the staircase.

She wasn’t speaking to anyone or doing anything in particular—she was just waiting.

”You came back,” she said the instant she saw him.

”I said I would, didn’t I?” Ravian said as he approached the stairs beside her.

”I know.” She nodded.

Larette looked past him toward the open door of the manor.

”Where is Lady Lysandra?” she asked.

”She left.”

”She isn’t coming back to the manor?”

”She doesn’t have a reason to come back anymore,” Ravian answered.

Larette nodded, then gestured for him to follow her toward the staircase.

”Your room has been prepared. Shmichael moved the box into it himself, just as you asked.”

”Good.” Ravian nodded, then began climbing the stairs beside her.

Larette was quieter than she had been before he’d gone out.

She made no attempt to learn what had passed between him and Lysandra, and she didn’t ask why Lysandra had needed to speak with him outside rather than anywhere within the manor, even though that question was plain enough in her eyes.

The two of them reached the second floor, then turned toward the western wing.

”These rooms are set aside for the family’s close guests,” Larette said. ”The wing is quieter than the rest of the manor, and no one will enter your room without your permission.”

”Even the servants?” Ravian raised an eyebrow in faint surprise.

”Even the servants. If you need anything, there’s a bell beside the door.” Larette pointed to the side of the doorway.

”And the box?” Ravian asked before Larette could move on.

”It was placed inside the room, and no one has opened it,” she repeated.

Larette walked on for several more steps, then spoke without looking at him.

”Did Lady Lysandra ask something of you?”

Ravian turned his gaze toward her. The question was strange and out of place, considering they weren’t that close.

’Is this just her curiosity? That seems excessive to me,’ Ravian thought, though he didn’t answer her question.

But it seemed Larette wasn’t content with that, because this time she looked at him directly.

”I heard from Shmichael that she’ll be heading back east with her squad within a few days...” Larette said, her eyes refusing to settle on any one place.

Ravian stopped and looked at her seriously. She knew more than she ought to.

But Larette apparently wasn’t satisfied to leave it there.

”Will you go with her?” she finally asked after a great deal of hesitation.

”No,” Ravian answered at once. ”She left on her own, as you saw.”

”I didn’t mean now,” she said.

Larette was no fool, and anyone who sat with Ravian for even a few minutes would learn that unless he said something outright and directly, they shouldn’t go guessing on their own—otherwise, they’d walk straight into a wall.

Larette stopped in front of one of the doors, but she didn’t open it.

”I mean after the two days.”

Ravian understood what she was asking about.

”I’ll be leaving at some point regardless,” Ravian said, reminding her of who he was and who she was. ”Whether it’s with Lysandra or with someone else, I’ll be leaving in the end either way, Miss Larette. I’m not in a position that allows me to settle down in one place.”

Larette’s eyes lowered for a moment.

”So you won’t be staying any longer.”

”I didn’t say I wouldn’t come back to the capital,” Ravian said. ”The project will most likely force me to return many times.”

”For the project,” Larette repeated.

She hadn’t phrased it as a question.

Ravian looked at her.

Her tone was calm, but the faint sorrow that surfaced on her face wasn’t hidden well enough.

Or perhaps it simply wasn’t hidden well enough from him in particular.

Ravian had understood since their very first meeting that Larette’s interest in him ran past the project, past the Eighth-Rank heart, and past the agreement between him and her family.

Nor had he been blind to her jealousy a short while ago or to the difference in the way she treated him after Lysandra appeared.

He could take a single step closer right now.

An ambiguous line, or a smile at the right moment, or a promise that meant nothing at all.

That alone would have been enough to leave Larette even more attached to him, and it would have granted him extra leverage inside House Viola, perhaps even a way to sway the Earl himself in the future.

But he didn’t do it.

Ravian wasn’t that kind of person... he wasn’t a piece of useless garbage; heaven forbid he ever become one.

Ravian was willing to deceive, to kill, and to exploit his enemies’ weaknesses whenever the need arose.

But turning the feelings of someone who had sincerely helped him into a tool he could use to bind her wasn’t something he had any desire to do.

He simply wasn’t that type of person.

And so he behaved as though he hadn’t noticed the sorrow on her face or the hints she’d been dropping all this time, hoping she would work it out on her own, since she wasn’t foolish enough to miss it—and he was certain of that.

”Is this my room?” Ravian asked, gesturing at the door.

Larette stayed silent for a fraction of a second, then recovered her usual expression.

”Yes,” she said.

Then she opened the door, and Ravian went in first.

The room was spacious, though not excessively lavish.

A large bed occupied the left side, while a wooden desk had been placed near two tall windows that looked out over the manor’s rear garden.

And in the middle of the opposite wall, a quiet fire burned inside a stone hearth, even though the weather wasn’t cold enough to require it.

But the most important thing in the room, as far as Ravian was concerned, was the silver box resting atop a solitary table near the bed.

It looked exactly as it had when he’d seen it in Shmichael’s hand.

The interlocking lines across its surface remained still, and not the slightest trace of soul power leaked out of it.

Ravian moved closer to it, but he didn’t touch it yet.

”I’ve ordered a hot bath prepared for you,” Larette said from behind him. ”And dinner will be ready in an hour. You can eat with us, or I can have them bring it up here.”

Ravian caught sight of her from the corner of his eye and saw how much she wanted him to come to dinner, and so...

”There’s no need. I won’t be eating dinner today,” he said at last.

”All right.” Larette nodded, however reluctantly.

She knew that every minute that passed brought Ravian’s departure closer, and he didn’t seem interested in anything she said or anything she was trying to hint at.

And just as Ravian had expected, Larette realized that he was rejecting her indirectly so as not to hurt her or cause trouble with her father. Yet for some reason, she was the one who wouldn’t back down.

Larette hesitated for a moment.

”If you need anything else...”

”I’ll use the bell,” Ravian finished for her, his eyes still on the box in front of him.

She nodded.

Then she headed for the door.

”Larette,” Ravian called out to her before she could step out.

She stopped and turned to him quickly.

Something small flickered in her eyes—something resembling an expectation she hadn’t wanted to show.

”Thank you for preparing the room and for personally making sure the box arrived,” Ravian said in that cold tone of his, empty of feeling, as he leaned back against the table and looked at her.

That expectation vanished from her face just as fast as it had appeared.

But she smiled at him anyway.

”There’s no need to thank me for that. It’s part of our agreement,” Larette said with a smile that wasn’t like the one she’d given him at the river earlier.

Larette stepped out and closed the door quietly behind her.

Ravian waited until her footsteps had faded, shook his head with slight annoyance, then approached the door, raised his hand, and turned the key in the lock to keep anyone from coming in...