Steven’s POV
Morning came too gently for a place that had ruined my life the night before.
For a few seconds, I didn’t know where I was.
Then the canopy over the bed came into focus. The green-and-gold room. The carved wood. The expensive silence.
Fredrick’s estate.
The hidden town.
The lab.
The black leather book.
The necklace.
Salizar.
My stomach tightened so fast it felt like I’d swallowed a fist.
Then I became aware of something warm beside me.
I turned my head slightly.
Aqua.
Still asleep.
Her hair was a little mussed, one hand tucked near her face, breathing slow and even in a way that made the room feel softer than it deserved.
And for one strange second, my brain caught on the wrong part of the situation entirely.
I had just slept in a bed with a girl.
Aqua.
The realization hit me late and awkward and weirdly hard, not because anything happened, but because I had been so completely out of it last night that it hadn’t even fully registered until now.
I stared at the canopy again.
Wow.
I must have really been gone.
That thought should have embarrassed me more than it did.
Instead, it just made everything else feel heavier.
Because if I had been calm, normal, myself, I would have noticed that instantly.
I slipped out of bed carefully so I wouldn’t wake her and went straight for the bathroom.
The shower was too nice.
Stone tile. Brass fixtures. Water pressure better than anything back home.
None of it helped.
I stood under the heat longer than I meant to, letting it pound against the back of my neck, my shoulders, my chest, as if enough hot water might rinse the lab out of my head.
The necklace stayed where it always did.
Cold at first.
Then warm against my skin.
Present.
I reached for the clasp once on instinct.
It didn’t move.
Of course it didn’t.
By the time I stepped out, the mirror had fogged over completely.
Good.
I didn’t want to look at myself yet anyway.
When I came back into the room, Aqua was just starting to stir under the covers, blinking sleep from her eyes. For one brief second she looked less like a princess and more like a girl who had fallen asleep trying to keep someone else from breaking.
Then she saw my face and her whole expression sharpened.
Not fear.
Check-in.
“Morning,” she said quietly.
“Morning.”
Neither of us said did you sleep okay?
Because the answer was obvious.
Not really.
The room was brighter in daylight, but not friendlier. Just clearer. All the old elegance felt more intentional now. Less dreamy. More controlled.
A soft knock came at the door.
Before either of us could answer, the butler’s voice came through it.
“Miss Aqua. Mr. Salvatore. Breakfast will be served in forty minutes.”
I sat down on the edge of the bed, rubbing one hand over my face.
“Okay,” I said, though I had no idea if he could hear me through old wood and formal distance.
The door opened just enough for him to remain mostly in the hall.
“There are garments prepared for you in the dressing room,” he said. “Mr. Worth thought it best.”
Of course he did.
My gaze flicked toward Aqua’s, and I could already tell she was thinking the same thing:
We are being managed again.
The butler gave a small nod and closed the door before either of us could decide whether to thank him or resent him.
Aqua sat up fully now, pushing the covers back as she looked toward the dressing room.
“Garments,” she repeated.
“Yeah,” I muttered. “That sounds normal.”
It did not.
Nothing here did.
I got up and crossed the room toward the dressing area, still half-expecting some kind of rich-person prank.
There wasn’t one.
The dressing room was really more of a walk-in closet—dark wood shelving, built-in drawers, everything arranged with the same polished restraint as the rest of the house. A full-length mirror stood at the far end, tall enough to make the whole space feel even narrower.
And waiting inside were the clothes.
A black suit hung neatly on one side.
On the other, a long blue dress.
Both looked like someone had taken one look at us and decided we needed to be translated into Worth-approved versions of ourselves.
I stared at the suit.
It was clean. Simple. Fitted. Black tie included.
Too formal for me. Too expensive-looking to be real.
Behind me, Aqua stepped into the doorway and went quiet for a beat when she saw the dress.
It was blue in that deep, soft way that reminded me of evening ocean water—elegant without being loud. Long sleeves of sheer fabric, fitted through the waist, flowing lower down. Not overdone. Just… graceful.
Which was probably the problem.
It would look natural on her.
I looked back at the suit and sighed.
“I feel threatened by clothing now.”
Aqua’s lips twitched faintly.
Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
“That makes two of us.”
It was the first almost-joke of the morning.
That should have helped more than it did.
Still, I took the suit from its hanger and nodded toward the bathroom.
“You take the closet,” I said. “I’ll change in there.”
Aqua nodded once. “Okay.”
If Fredrick Worth wanted me dressed like I belonged at breakfast in a hidden mountain coven, apparently I was too tired to fight him about it.
I hated how good the suit looked.
That was the worst part.
It fit too well. The shirt sat right on my shoulders. The tie made me feel strangled by etiquette. And the polished shoes waiting beneath it all made me feel like I was wearing someone else’s future by mistake.
I stared at myself in the mirror for a second too long.
Too adult.
Too clean.
Too much like I was pretending I had any control over what I was doing here.
When I stepped back into the main room, Aqua was standing near the window in the blue dress.
And all the words in my head forgot what they were for.
She turned when she heard me.
The dress suited her so naturally it almost made me angry at the world for getting at least one thing right. It softened nothing about her. If anything, it made her look even more composed. More royal. More like she had been born for rooms like this, even if she had not been born for this one.
Her eyes moved over me, taking in the suit, the tie, the fact that I probably still looked uncomfortable inside my own skin.
“You look nice,” she said gently.
I tugged at the tie. “I look like I’m about to be adopted by a British funeral home.”
Aqua laughed quietly.
Not big. Not bright.
But real.
And because it was real, I clung to it.
“You clean up well,” she said.
I looked at her properly then, and this time I let myself say it.
“You look…”
Beautiful. Elegant. Unreal. Safe. Dangerous for my self-control.
“…like you belong here more than I do,” I finished.
Aqua’s expression softened.
“I do not,” she said. “I’m just better at pretending.”
That sounded more honest than either of us wanted it to.
A knock came at the door again.
This time we were ready.
The butler waited in the hall once more, calm as a clock.
“Breakfast is served.”
Of course it was.
The dining room was exactly the kind of room I would have expected from Fredrick after one night under his roof.
Long. Formal. Quiet enough that silverware probably echoed.
Tall windows let in clean morning light. A dark wood table stretched almost absurdly far, polished enough to reflect the silver service set along it. Green runner down the center. White dishes. Crystal glasses. Everything arranged with military precision disguised as hospitality.
Fredrick was already seated at the far end.
Also of course.
He wore a different suit today—still tailored, still expensive, still dark enough to look like he had no interest in becoming approachable before noon. The gold signet ring on his right hand flashed when he lifted his teacup. The wedding band on his left was quieter, but no less deliberate.
When the butler announced us, Fredrick stood.
His gaze landed on Aqua first.
I noticed that immediately.
Of course I did.
“Miss Aqua,” he said.
Not Princess Aqua. Not this time.
Aqua inclined her head politely.
“Good morning, Mr. Worth.”
And there it was.
For the first time that morning, something softer touched Fredrick’s face. Not warmth exactly. Not the kind he’d ever waste on the room.
But a faint, private fondness.
Small enough that someone less desperate for details might have missed it.
“Fredrick is fine,” he told her.
Aqua blinked once.
Then nodded.
“Thank you… Fredrick.”
I looked between them before I could stop myself.
That had gone over way too smoothly.
So naturally, my stupid mouth opened.
“So what am I supposed to call you?”
Fredrick turned toward me.
And the softness vanished so fast I almost thought I imagined it.
His face went straight again. Calm. Cool. Controlled.
“You may call me Mr. Fredrick, boy.”
My stomach tightened.
Not because he raised his voice.
Because he didn’t.
That was the part that made it land.
The reminder. The line. The ranking.
Aqua was a Waters princess. I was a Salvatore boy with a prison on my chest.
Different treatment. Different danger.
“Right,” I muttered. “Got it.”
Aqua’s eyes flicked toward me briefly, and I could tell she caught the shift in my tone.
The butler pulled out our chairs. Aqua and I sat on either side nearer Fredrick, though not close enough to feel familiar. Close enough to be observed.
Tea was poured first.
Then breakfast came.
Eggs, toast, fruit, preserves, pastries, and a few things I could not immediately name but assumed were old-money breakfast items that had been quietly perfected generations ago.
I stared at the plate for half a second too long.
Fredrick noticed.
“Eat,” he said calmly. “You will think more clearly if you do.”
That sounded annoyingly true.
So I obeyed.
For a few quiet minutes, the only sounds were cutlery, porcelain, and the faint clink of tea service. Aqua ate neatly. Fredrick ate like he had never once dropped a crumb in his life.
I mostly focused on not strangling myself with the tie.
Then Aqua set down her cup.
“You said we would discuss next steps,” she said.
Fredrick nodded once.
“Yes.”
He rested one hand lightly near his plate.
“You will not remain in the main house,” he said. “I do not believe that arrangement would serve any of us well.”
That actually relieved me.
A little.
He continued.
“A residence has been prepared for you near the village outskirts. One of the newer neighborhood plots I recently developed.”
I paused mid-bite.
“A whole house?”
Fredrick looked at me as though that were not the surprising part of the sentence.
“A modest one,” he said. “By Worth standards.”
That did not help.
“It sits at the very end of a cul-de-sac,” he continued. “You will have privacy, but not isolation.”
Translation: I can still keep an eye on you.
Aqua’s posture remained calm, but I could see the question forming before she asked it.
“And Steven’s training?”
Fredrick folded his hands.
“Behind the residence,” he said, “there is a protected field extending deeper into the forest. It is enclosed within its own barrier and reinforced to withstand magical output far beyond what either of you should presently be producing.”
I stared at him.
“You built a private magical combat zone behind the house.”
Fredrick did not flinch.
“I built a place where mistakes do not become public disasters,” he corrected.
Same guy, different sentence.
Aqua nodded slowly. “And I may train there as well?”
“Yes,” Fredrick said. “Within reason.”
That phrase sounded worse in his mouth than it probably should have.
Aqua lifted her cup again, then lowered it before drinking.
“Do you have family here as well?” she asked.
Smooth.
Polite.
Much better than anything I would have come up with.
Fredrick’s gaze flicked briefly to the wedding band on his own hand before returning to her.
“My wife does,” he said. “In theory.”
I blinked.
Aqua did too, but more elegantly.
Fredrick continued before either of us could ask what that meant.
“She is often occupied elsewhere. Ambition does not encourage stillness.”
That was a very specific answer and somehow also not one at all.
Then his expression shifted by the smallest amount.
Not softer.
Prouder.
“I have a son,” he said. “He is wise, disciplined, and powerful. He takes after me.”
There it was.
No false modesty. No apology. Just a man fully satisfied with his own contribution to genetics.
Aqua’s lips twitched faintly.
I almost smiled.
Almost.
“Is he here?” Aqua asked.
Fredrick shook his head.
“He is away at college.”
My eyes moved briefly around the room again.
That explained some of the silence.
Not all of it.
But some.
Fredrick finished his tea and set the cup down with exact care.
“You may see Worthington today,” he said. “After you have seen the residence.”
My attention sharpened.
“See?”
“Yes,” he said. “Within the estate. Within reason.”
He paused just long enough for the next part to land harder.
“And you may never leave the confines of the protective barrier without my consent.”
My stomach tightened a little.
“You will keep everything about this place a secret unless I say otherwise,” he added.
Then his eyes settled on me fully.
“And you may cultivate as much as you can, provided you keep it to the private training field I gave you.”
That caught me off guard enough that I blinked.
Aqua asked, more carefully than I would have, “Will someone be watching the house?”
“No,” Fredrick said.
Then he paused, and something about the pause itself made the room feel quieter.
“There is no need for that when you are in my domain.”
I didn’t know exactly what he meant by that.
And judging by the way Aqua went still beside me, neither did she.
But I knew enough to feel the meaning anyway.
The kind that said this place belonged to him in ways I had not fully understood yet.
Fredrick reached into his jacket and set a brass key on the table.
It was heavier-looking than a normal house key. Older. Carved with faint markings along the shaft that looked decorative until you remembered whose table it sat on.
“The residence key,” he said.
Aqua reached toward it, but before her fingers touched it, the key lifted on its own.
I froze.
The brass key rose a few inches into the air, turned slowly, then pointed toward the dining room doors like a compass finding north.
Aqua stared at it.
I stared at it.
Fredrick, meanwhile, acted like this was what keys were supposed to do.
“It will guide you when you are ready to leave,” he said.
Of course it would.
Aqua took the key gently from the air when it drifted back down into her palm.
“Thank you,” she said.
Fredrick inclined his head.
Then, as if handing out enchanted house keys were not enough for one breakfast, he reached into the inner pocket of his jacket again and withdrew a thick cream-colored card edged in dark green.
He placed it neatly beside Aqua’s plate.
“If you ever need anything,” he said, “feel free to contact me.”
Aqua picked it up first.
The cardstock looked expensive enough to have its own bank account.
At the top, in crisp black lettering, it read:
Worth Corp.
Fredrick Worth, CEO
Below that were two numbers. One labeled Office. The other Direct.
Aqua glanced at the card, then turned it slightly so I could see it too.
I frowned. “You own a company?”
Fredrick’s expression did not change.
“One that humans understand,” he said. “Worth Corp. serves as my public-facing business.”
Aqua looked back at the card. “Security?”
“Protection. Recovery. Selective intervention,” Fredrick said. “It is an effective way to keep humans safe from threats they are not equipped to handle.”
I stared at him. “That sounds like a very elegant way to avoid details.”
“For good reason,” Fredrick said.
Aqua turned the card once between her fingers, thoughtful. “So this number is for practical needs?”
“For practical needs,” Fredrick said, “and for matters requiring my direct attention.”
His gaze settled briefly on Aqua, then shifted to me.
“Use it wisely.”
Aqua gave a small nod and tucked the card carefully beside the key.
Fredrick’s gaze found me again.
“You will see the house first,” he said. “Then, if you still feel compelled to wander, you may walk through the village and familiarize yourselves with the town.”
A familiar weight settled under my ribs at the word familiarize.
Not hunger. Not exactly.
Just the uncomfortable awareness that my life now included hidden mountain towns and floating house keys and British men in green suits telling me where I was allowed to exist.
Fredrick stood.
Which, apparently, meant breakfast was over.
The butler appeared in the doorway so quickly it almost felt like the room had summoned him.
“Escort them,” Fredrick said.
Then, after the smallest pause:
“And let them take the long way through town after they have seen the house. Worthington is best understood on foot.”
Aqua rose first.
I followed a second later, tugging once at the cuffs of my suit jacket because it still didn’t feel like mine.
The key rested in Aqua’s hand.
Still.
Waiting.
As we turned to leave, I looked back once.
Fredrick was already adjusting one sleeve, composed and unreadable, as though arranging the next stage of our lives over breakfast had required no more effort than straightening a cuff. A second later he stepped away from the table and walked out ahead of us without another word, like he already had his next destination in mind.
A king in motion inside a hidden mountain town.
And whether I liked it or not…
he had just pointed us toward whatever came next.