Reincarnated as an Elf Prince
Chapter 255 - 255: Locked

"I didn't," Jaren said.

One of the other guards shifted, but Jaren lifted a hand.

"She's following orders," he added, nodding toward the woman from before. "She's not wrong. But that doesn't mean you are, either."

Ashwing raised his head slightly. "So which is it? Are we detained, or are we walking?"

Jaren looked at him, not startled. Not surprised.

Just acknowledged the voice like someone used to strange things.

"You're not detained," he said. "But you're not going to the king tonight. Not after what just happened."

Lindarion crossed his arms. "Then you're wasting my time."

"I'm trying to keep you alive," Jaren replied evenly. "And the king too, while I'm at it."

The other guards were silent now. Eyes sharp, hands still close to weapons, but no one moved.

Lindarion stared at Jaren. Long enough to measure. Not mana. Not power.

But intent.

Jaren met the look without blinking.

And in that moment, Lindarion realized something.

This one didn't care about court politics.

Didn't care who had titles or bloodlines.

He just wanted to know things didn't break on his watch.

"I need ten minutes with him," Lindarion said. "That's all."

"Not tonight," Jaren said again. "He's not in a room where he can listen. But I'll get you on the schedule."

"You'll get me on the—?"

"Hey." Jaren's tone didn't rise. "I'm not a clerk. I'm not a noble. I'm the guy who's kept assassins off Leonhardt's back since before you were shaving. You want to yell at someone, yell at Edric. But don't confuse me with someone you can steamroll."

Lindarion didn't answer.

Ashwing exhaled through his nose.

Then Jaren added, a little quieter, "You've got my respect, Prince. That doesn't mean you get to skip the line."

Lindarion looked past him at the city.

At the tower windows still glowing. At the places he should be allowed to walk into.

Then he turned back.

And nodded once.

"I'll wait."

"Good," Jaren said. "There's a room in the west wing. I'll post guards you can trust. You'll be called when it's time."

Lindarion didn't thank him.

Didn't need to.

He just followed as Jaren gestured, and the line of the King's Blade stepped aside.

Not as subordinates.

Not even as allies.

But as people who knew where the lines were drawn, and who kept them clean.

—

The west wing room wasn't large.

Stone walls. No windows. A table. Two chairs. A bed that looked too clean to have been used lately.

Not a cell.

But it might as well have been.

Lindarion sat in the chair closest to the corner, elbows on the table, fingers steepled just below his mouth.

Ashwing curled up near the door, small again. Tail flicked once. He didn't speak.

Lindarion didn't either.

Not yet.

The room was quiet. Too quiet. No wind. No street sounds. Just the hum of layered wards built into the walls.

He closed his eyes for a second. Let his shoulders drop.

'They're watching me. Through some kind of a rune, or through the wall. Doesn't matter.'

He wasn't tired. Not physically.

But his head throbbed in a dull, circular way. Like someone had packed a week of pressure into the space behind his eyes.

It wasn't the ambush.

It wasn't Edric.

It was the part he hadn't said out loud yet.

The rune pulses were getting faster.

'Three days until the next one. That's what I told Leonhardt.'

He opened his eyes again.

'But I didn't tell him I'm not sure that's true anymore.'

Ashwing finally broke the silence.

"You okay?"

"No."

"Want to talk about it?"

"No."

Pause.

"…Want to break something?"

"Tempting."

Lindarion stood. Paced twice. Didn't help. Sat back down.

"This is stupid," he said finally.

"What, the room?"

"No. Sitting around while the next pulse lines up. While that white-haired bastard walks through walls like he's already won."

Ashwing yawned. "Then do something."

"I am doing something. I just don't know if it's the right something."

He didn't say it aloud, but the feeling in his chest was something he hadn't felt since the attack on Evernight years ago.

That quiet, hollow pressure of being behind the problem. Of chasing a shadow that always knew which step came next.

'It's not just about the runes anymore. They're targeting people. Targeting me. Luneth. That means they're getting bold.'

He looked at the far wall. There was a rune etched into the stone. Not offensive. Just a barrier ward. Nothing threatening.

Still…

He didn't like the feeling of being boxed in.

"I should've gone straight to the king the second I knew," he muttered.

"You did," Ashwing said.

"No. I wasted time. Checked ruins. Hunted whispers. While they were planting real people inside cities."

He stood again. Started pacing again. This time slower.

Ashwing tilted his head, watching him. "You're not used to waiting."

"I hate waiting."

"I know."

Lindarion dragged a hand through his hair.

'He said they'd speed up. He said I wasn't ready for what's under the floor. And the coin hasn't glowed yet. That means he hasn't even started.'

He exhaled slowly. Not dramatic. Just to clear space in his own head.

And finally said it aloud.

"I don't think the next pulse is going to be in three days."

Ashwing blinked. "Then when?"

Lindarion didn't answer.

Because he didn't know.

Because if he was right, it might already be too late to guess.

—

The chair scraped against stone.

Lindarion stood again.

Ashwing didn't move. Just watched him from his coiled spot near the door.

"They said someone would come get me," Lindarion muttered.

"That was hours ago," Ashwing said.

"I know."

He stared at the door. Stone frame. Reinforced oak. Warded with the same light sigils as the hallway. Practical. Secure. But not meant for long-term holding.

'They didn't lock me up. They just forgot.'

That was almost worse.

He stepped closer to the door and placed his hand against it.

Still warm from the ward. Still pulsing.

No sound from the hallway.

No footsteps.

No voices.

Nothing.

He waited ten more seconds. For no reason other than habit.

Then he spoke.

"Alright. Screw this."

Ashwing perked up. "Finally."