“Good night, Damian.”

“Good night, my sweet Val. I hope I’ll see you again very soon, and I shall dream of you until then.”

In the safety of our mansion walls, his manner was almost natural, except for those unsettling gleaming eyes. He kissed me on the forehead and I could feel his gaze follow me as I ascended the stairs, tracing every step, until I finally turned out of sight. It felt as if a burden was lifted, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

I glided through the halls quickly, meeting Zoe along the way. I beckoned for her to walk with me, reassuring myself with her steadfast presence.

“Still no news on the holy flower?”

“No, my lady.”

“There must be a better way! You know what, take me to my parents.”

“Yes, my lady.”

I had considered the idea before and thought over it carefully on the carriage ride home under Damian’s frightening gaze. Now that the fear was gradually being replaced with annoyance and outrage, I made up my mind. Damian was as strong as a nuclear weapon, and the only thing more disastrous than letting him go out of control would be allowing him to be used by Catherine and Baron Bryant.

Father and Mother were talking pleasantly in a drawing room. They looked up as I entered, slightly surprised.

“You’re back early from the ball, darling.”

“My angel, is everything all right?”

I sat down between them. Mother poured me a cup of tea and I took a sip gratefully. With them, I was safe. In the comfortable calm, the very prospect that I, Valentina Avington, had been shaken, was angering me. I clenched my teacup.

“Damian escorted me back, actually.”

“Oh. How come? You usually stay out all night. Are you feeling well, darling?”

“I am. He insisted it’s late.”

Mother fell silent and exchanged a glance with Father. He coughed.

“Rather unreasonable of him, that boy. I’ll talk to him about it.”

“I think you may have to do more.”

“What do you mean?”

Privately, I believed they knew, like in the conversation they were having with their eyes right in front of me. I had dropped hints throughout the years, and they had responded with equally sly assurances they would take care of it, though I’d never held much hope as I knew the doom was destined by the novel, which must’ve meant the usual methods didn’t work.

Talking about it made it more real, and doing it without Damian was admitting he was already so far gone he couldn’t be trusted to discuss it rationally with us. I hated it, but the problem could no longer be addressed separately. We had to work together as a family to help him.

“Damian has mana madness.”

As expected, they accepted the statement as truth, with slight but composed reactions. A sigh from Father, a dejected but assenting shake of the head from Mother. The signs had grown too obvious to the ones that loved him.

“I daresay we all suspected, my angel. He’s obsessed with you and his work, and we’ve already tried talking to him. He wouldn’t listen!”

“But it’ll be fine, won’t it, sweetheart? I mean, I told you I was looking into some foreign doctors, and you said you would research as well. We’ll save him, and he won’t be like those other sad mages.”

Mother spoke with maternal determination. Father took her hand gently.

“Are those foreign doctors any use, dear?”

“Well, they’re suggesting all these drugs and herbs and medicine…but no one has any actual cure. Why, they haven’t seen a mad mage for centuries! I suppose their medicine is worth a try, isn’t it?”

She squeezed his hand and looked down, not meeting our eyes. No one could act forever, and the desperation had leaked into her voice. I suddenly realized how thin and frail Mother seemed and felt a pang of terror. In the novel, she had died after the shock of my arrest and Damian’s death. No, I would never allow that to happen in this life!

“I think anything’s better than nothing, Mother. I’ve been trying to find Ifyeffier, the holy flower, since stories say it can cure all illnesses. I tracked its last appearance to about two hundred years ago, when according to rumours, it healed the Isvorian king from his deathbed. I’ve had people searching for it for the past decade.”

The words sounded depressing, even to myself. I bit my lip.

“I’ve considered the temple as well. Theoretically, the saint’s power might be able to heal him, or perhaps the holy dagger. I’ve had my priest try, but his divine power wasn’t strong enough.”

Everyone around this table knew I wasn’t going to awaken any saintly powers, though I did have a plan for the holy dagger. I had also asked Nathaniel over and over again to try blessing Damian from a safe distance, but the most it did was give him a day’s normalcy.

As for Catherine, I didn’t know. Her position as saint had been crucial in the novel to her marriage with the prince, and I had taken it. If it were discovered she was the real saint, it would be the temple’s mistake, not mine, and I actually had an entire plan on what to do in that situation. However, it would be best for me if she went away without ever awakening her powers.

Call me heartless and selfish, but even if she could cure Damian, a dead brother would be better than a brother alive and an overpowered weapon in the clutches of the enemy. Besides, surely it would never come to that! I had grown to like the people’s adoration for their saint, and I intended to keep it. Somehow, I would be smart enough to find a way to get everything I wanted.

“I’ve been studying the magical aspect of things.”

Father’s words brought me back from my thoughts. I looked at him curiously.

“I know for most mages, taking away their magic would be unthinkable, and Damian truly loves his work. But if it’s a matter of saving his life, I’d force him if I had to.”

“Is it even possible, Father? I thought there’s never been a proven safe way to remove magic from a mage.”

He hesitated and I remembered something. A theory of a conspiracy that set up the whole novel, in a way.

“Does it have to do with how Damian got his magic?”

Father glanced up at me, startled. I continued hurriedly before he could stop me.

“From what I know, Damian wasn’t born with mana. When he was young, he got very sick, and it was possible that he might die. A man named Ratched, Lady Bryant’s father, provided a ‘cure’. It involved the demon king, which was why the magic that cured Damian was too strong, and as a side effect, he became a powerful mage.”

We sat in silence for a moment. I met Father’s eyes, as the successor that would protect our family. He smiled grimly.

“So long ago, Sir Williams said he told you about Ratched. I thought you might’ve guessed. You understand this is even more unspeakable than our other affairs?”

My heart pounded. This opened up a world of new opportunities, but I needed to focus on my brother first.

“Of course. But does it provide a possibility for saving Damian?”

“I’m not sure. I had hoped we could separate the excess mana from him, if it’s not too integrated into him like with mages born with magic, but I truly don’t know. I have experts working in secret, but they don’t have anything absolute.”

The grand duke, the grand duchess, and the future queen. When it came to saving one that meant the world to us, we were powerless, and I hated it. It was against the very essence of House Avington to be weak, to watch helplessly as something we didn’t want happened, and I wouldn’t stand for it.

Cautiously, and partly for my own ideas, I asked a dangerous question.

“Father, do we still have that ‘cure’?”

He shook his head. My excitement fell, though I had been expecting it. So much for an easy and overpowered solution to all our problems.

“Ratched performed the summoning ritual from a book that he took with him. He told me years later he’d destroyed it, and though I can’t say I trust him, we never found it. As you probably know, he died a few months ago, so we searched through his possessions.”

My mind leapt, unwilling to give up so easily.

“Have you considered Lady Bryant? Mightn’t he have left it to her?”

“We’ve looked into that. He’d gifted her countless books over the years, so we have no way of knowing.”

“I can ask her.”

To my disappointment, Father shook his head firmly.

“No, my angel. We’ve been… adventurous in our pursuits, in business and politics, but I believe this line is too dangerous to cross. The temple has said the demon king is slowly strengthening, so a wrong move could put too much at risk.”

“I understand, Father.”

A last resort, then. Ironic, given that as the saint, I was supposed to defeat the demon king, but also fitting. The villainess would risk the world to destroy the real saint and take her place.

Mother broke in, tossing her head back with an airy laugh and the arrogance of a true Avington, by second nature even if not by blood.

“My darlings, you worry too much! I’m sure we’ll figure it out, and everything will be all right.”

Her confidence and charm reassured me. Yes, I thought, because we were House Avington. Things always went our way, no matter what, and this would be no exception. Come hell or high water, I would have it all.

- - -

Damian was humming as he strode into his sitting room. He was pleased with himself.

“Oh? Did you break a new heart tonight?”

Kyle was already there, glancing up from his book as he entered. Damian shook his head, chuckling.

“No, my good Kyle! I saw my precious sister, that’s all. She grows more beautiful each time I see her, and she was awfully glad to see me too.”

“I’m sure she was. Not creeped out at all, you know.”

Damian frowned. How dare this mere boy judge his worship of his sister, a literal goddess! Well, he’d never had much taste.

“No one asked for your opinion, idiot. By the way, you’re blind. Remember the Catherine girl I told you to check out for me a few months ago? The one you said was average? Valentina’s interested in her, so I danced with her. Why, she was absolutely adorable!”

He enjoyed the brief bitter expression that passed Kyle’s face, though it barely lasted long enough for him to catch it. Kyle had always been jealous whenever he found a new girl, despite him repeatedly rejecting his offers to introduce him. Damian never understood why, though he wasn’t bothered enough to care.

“A simple child, really. Cute, and not like other ladies, which isn’t necessarily good or bad, mind you. She hasn’t got manners nor composure, but she’s genuine. I could tell what she was thinking every second, read it right off her face. Seems to be hiding something, which is why she isn’t in love with me yet, but it won’t be long. Still, I don’t get why my sister pays so much attention to her!”

“By attention, you mean ruining her life?”

“It’s an honour when Valentina does it, of course!”

Ah, his sweet Val, his darling sister. The love of his life, the sole reason he woke up every morning, and the only thought in his head when he slept at night. His, his, all his, only his! Yes, she belonged to no one else, only him. He would make sure of that.

Oh, how he loved her!