Royal Reboot: Level up, Your Majesty!

Chapter 67: Half-Truths

Half-truths

Eydis traced the whorls and grooves of the metal table with her eyes, but they blurred together. Astra’s story replayed in her head instead; each syllable, each tone, the way she had almost, almost let emotion slip through.

Astra had called herself apathetic. Cold. Detached.

Eydis had never heard a bigger lie.

She brought the steaming latte to her lips, but it may as well have been air.

“You saved me,” she said at last, her voice fragile in a way she hated.

Astra didn't look up from her untouched coffee. "Surely you've figured that out by now."

“I suspected.” Eydis held her breath. “But is that why you reacted the way you did?”

Astra’s fingers clenched the fabric of her denim jacket. “With anger?”

“With—” Eydis faltered. “Emotion.”

Tears. She didn’t say it.

Astra didn’t acknowledge them, but Eydis knew she had heard and understood the unspoken words.

“We belong to the same world, don’t we?” Eydis said. “That was your conclusion.”

Was that why you teared up? Was that the answer you were searching for?

Astra flinched. Barely. But Eydis noticed.

Alien.

That was the truth she had been avoiding. The weight she had been carrying alone.

Eydis understood that feeling all too well. The disorientation, the loss. But at least she still had her memories.

Astra had been left with nothing. She drifted blankly through life, as if the first act of violence she’d committed had somehow defined her.

But it didn’t. Astra was—

“Are you admitting it, then?” Astra interrupted, her voice unreadable. “That you’re Pride? That you did this to me?”

To her memories. To her mind.

“I don’t know.” Eydis lowered her gaze. The truth, or as close to it as she could get. “There are things I don’t remember either, especially around…”

Archmage Swans. The Saintess. What did they have in common?

What else had she forgotten?

Astra’s eyes narrowed slightly as the soft hum of the fans tousled her hair. Eydis felt the absurd urge to reach out, to tuck the strands back into place. Must be the perfectionist in her.

“I see,” Astra murmured. There was no skepticism in her voice.

“Do you believe me?” The Queen’s voice wavered just enough to betray the nonchalance she tried so hard to maintain.

Astra finally met her gaze. There was the briefest flicker of something unguarded, before it was quickly buried beneath the usual frost.

“Lying outright isn’t your style,” she said. “You prefer half-truths, twisting words just enough to leave people wondering what you actually meant. Besides, I’ve seen an ability like that before.”

By seen before, Astra meant her partner. The one who could erase memories.

Eydis didn’t know why it irritated her. But it did.

“Ah.” Her fingers curled over the rim of her coffee cup before she brought it to her lips. Now she could taste it.

Burning. Bitter.

“Speaking of half-truths… you told me the names of the thugs in the alleys, the policewoman. Even Lionel Robin.” Her gaze turned sharp. “Natalia’s brother, I presume?”

Astra’s jaw tightened. “I didn’t hurt your friend’s brother. If that’s what you’re implying.”

“Oh, it wasn’t,” Eydis said. “I’m just wondering why you’ve never told me your partner’s name.”

The cold edge in Astra’s voice was immediate. “His name doesn’t matter.”

“I think it does. Was he someone I know, or…” Eydis felt her composure slipping just enough for Astra to sense it. “Someone everyone knows.”

Astra shifted uncomfortably in her chair. “I told you everything you need to know.”

“That’s not an answer. But I suppose I’ll let it go…” Eydis drawled, “for now.”

She had no intention of letting it go.

Because this man—whoever he was—was important. Young, probably memorable. But more significantly…

Someone Astra trusted. The only person Astra trusted.

Eydis could see the soft fondness in Astra’s gaze. It shouldn't have gotten under her skin. But here it was, like a splinter, a thorn, a leech.

So, naturally, she went for the tweezers. Subtly, of course.

“That handshake with him,” she said, resting her chin lazily on one hand, “and what happened afterward… tell me, Astra, doesn’t it seem just a little suspicious? Or do you regularly pass out in the arms of mysterious men?”

Maybe not so subtle.

Astra glared. “I noticed, obviously.”

“Obviously, and yet?”

Astra sighed, a sound that suggested she was already profoundly regretting this entire conversation. “I decided to see how things play out.”

“Ah. So that’s what this is about.”

Astra shot her a dry look. “Are you going to be insufferable about it?”

“Too late, I am insufferable.” Eydis’s smile sharpened. “But let’s review the evidence, shall we? You trust a man whose name you won’t say. Who knows more than he let on. Who wields mind-bending power that isn’t even Van Nassau’s.”

Astra let out a low growl.

Stop. Eydis told herself, but she didn’t listen, because something in Astra’s eyes confirmed her suspicions.

Van Nassau’s power was rooted in the human mind, just like Athena’s and her brother Adrian’s, whose power was displayed publicly. That alone made them dangerous. Special. This was the humans’ world, after all.

And yet, here was this man whose very presence seemed to widen the scope of things Eydis hadn’t even begun to understand. Who was he? What did he know, and why had he helped Astra?

More importantly, had he really helped her, or…

Had he used her?

Eydis felt a slow, simmering anger rise inside her. “You collapsed the moment you touched him and conveniently became the Council’s most prized asset against your will.”

Astra’s gaze darkened, she paused, and finally retorted, “You’re making assumptions.”

“I’m drawing logical conclusions.”

“They’re wrong.”

“Are they?” Eydis asked. “Because despite all that, you still choose to trust him. Isn’t that just a little bit curious?”

Astra’s crimson eyes could have burned this entire greenhouse down. But she held back, tempering it and keeping her face still.

“No.”

“No?”

“Not that curious,” Astra snapped. “You’ve only heard what I chose to tell you. Don’t act like you know him.”

Eydis was ready to fire back, to push just a little harder—

And then she saw it.

Just for a second. A flicker of something in Astra’s eyes. Vulnerability. Uncertainty. As though Eydis’s words had grazed the surface of a deeper fear.

It unsettled her. She didn’t like knowing she’d put it there.

Eydis’s voice softened, but the sharpness never fully faded. “It was never about him.”

“Really? Because it’s been the only thing you’ve been asking about.”

Amber eyes locked onto crimson. “It was you I wanted to understand.”

Astra straightened. “There’s nothing remotely interesting about me.”

“You have more faith in others than you care to admit, Astra."

“Faith…” Astra breathed. “I don’t believe in such things.”

“Not blind, foolish faith,” Eydis agreed, leaning in just a fraction. “The kind that sees what people are… and still bets on what they could be.”

Just like Astra had done with her.

Astra’s eyes grew distant, as if she didn’t believe it. “And that’s a mistake?”

“That depends. Has it ever gotten you killed?” the Queen teased.

Astra blinked.

“Sure,” she mumbled. “Must be hell since we’re still having this conversation.”

Eydis laughed quietly. “An enthralling conversation with such delightful company. Hardly. But it does mean one thing.”

Astra glared at her, but the subtle heat on her skin made Eydis suspect it was more than mere annoyance. “Go ahead.”

Eydis’s voice was gentler when she spoke. “You’re kinder than you give yourself credit for.”

Astra’s breath faltered.

“The way you fight,” Eydis continued. “It’s sharp, precise, efficient. At first, I saw it as arrogance, but now… it’s clear it’s something deeper.”

“It’s just how I fight. Muscle memory,” Astra replied stiffly.

Eydis nodded, then she slowly lifted her healed hand, turning it over. “Muscle memory… Like how you healed me, despite everything.”

Astra’s gaze flicked back and forth between Eydis’s hand and her eyes, as though caught in an internal debate. 

It was… disorienting to see her like this, so unsure of herself, so unlike the Astra Eydis thought she knew. So…

Without thinking, Eydis’s fingers slid through Astra’s silver hair. It was impossibly soft, finer than silk. Familiar. She shouldn’t remember that.

“Some might call it foolish. Others might call it hope,” Eydis whispered. 

Hope. Dreams. She knew those well. But never for people.

Never for people.

Astra didn’t pull away. Didn’t even breathe for a moment.

“I understand many things. At least, I thought I did,” Eydis continued. “But people… they’ve always been shadows to me. You, though, you see past them.” She smirked. “All sunshine and happy endings.”

Astra’s lashes fluttered. “That sounds ridiculous. And you’re just projecting.”

“Am I?” Eydis searched Astra’s face. “How can I project something I’ve never known? You believe in something better, Astra. Something more than… I deserve.”

Astra swallowed. Her eyes glimmered, as though Eydis’s words were finally sinking in, lodging somewhere deeper than either of them had intended.

“It seems,” Astra murmured, “we both have blind spots when we look in the mirror.”

Eydis froze, caught off guard by Astra’s words. It was almost enough to make her hesitate, but her fingers lingered, brushing lightly over Astra’s cheek.

Warm. Alive. Every inch of her radiated it.

“And what’s mine, Astra?” 

Astra’s skin was burning hot, and Eydis could feel it…

Against her fingertips.

Against her lips. 

Against her eyes.

Against her pulse, quickening in her chest.

“Yours?” Astra looked away, but not far. “Even with perfect vision now, you still have a terrible sense of personal space.”

Eydis waited for Astra to lean back.

And waited.

But Astra asked instead, “Are you just this… handsy with everyone?” There was something in her voice. Low. Dark. And not just curiosity.

Eydis wound a strand of silver hair between her fingers, buying time as her thoughts wandered. “Only the ones with nice silver hair.”

Astra’s breath stayed steady. But the pulse at the base of her throat. It... raced. And the colour in her cheeks deepened.

And that…

That made something inside Eydis stutter. Her own breath came just a little slower, her grip loosening but not pulling away. Her words slipped out like a sigh.

“Can you really blame me for being tempted?”

Astra’s stare intensified, almost daring Eydis to push further. “Tempted for what?” 

Eydis didn’t know. Or maybe she did. Maybe she knew exactly what she wanted.

Slowly—too slowly—her hand slid away from Astra’s hair, fingertips tracing the curve of her cheek, barely there, but just enough. Not long enough to be deliberate.

Even though it was. Fully intentional.

“To admire the texture, naturally.”

Astra's eyed narrowed. Not in annoyance but it was something far more complicated.

“Is that so?” she said huskily, before clearing her throat.

“Would I lie?” Eydis forced a smirk. “I’m practically an open book.”

A book written in half-truths and misdirection.

Astra gave her a long, unreadable look. Then, she finally took a sip of her coffee. And immediately stopped.

Eydis lifted her own cup.

And almost choked.

The full taste hit her now that she wasn’t tangled in the rush of emotions she’d been battling: Bitter. Overbrewed. Offensively, objectively, violently bad.

Eydis cleared her throat. “So.”

Astra blinked once. “So.”

Eydis glanced at her own cup. “I mean, it’s not that bad.”

“Then take another sip,” Astra deadpanned.

Eydis hesitated. Visibly.

But Astra? She drained the coffee without so much as a flinch, locking eyes with Eydis the entire time. She swallowed with the effortless composure of someone who’d long since mastered the art of suffering in silence.

Eydis debated whether to be impressed or deeply, profoundly concerned.

“You should be banned from making coffee,” Astra declared.

“I choose to view this as a bold experiment in redefining the limits of coffee-making." Eydis swirled her cup.

Astra’s lips twitched, just enough for Eydis to catch it. It was almost a smile. “Skill issue.”

She rose, collecting their cups, and turned toward the door.

“Oh? I assure you,” Eydis propped her chin against her palm, eyes glinting with something Astra couldn’t see, but surely felt. “I’m quite capable with my hands… when the job demands more than just a simple pressing.”

Astra’s shoulders tensed. Then came the telltale flush at the tips of her ears before she vanished inside.

Eydis chuckled, thoroughly satisfied. Well, perhaps the coffee wasn’t entirely a failure after all.

The scent of it lingered, weaving through the mist of the greenhouse, blending with damp earth and fresh leaves. Their conversation played back in her mind, settling over her like the fading warmth of sunlight.

Peace. How long would it ever last?

A chill crept in as if summoned by her doubt. Slow. Patient. Waiting. It coiled around her shoulders, unseen by all but her.

Envy.

Her smile vanished.

You’re still hiding the truth, aren’t you, Your Majesty?

Getting bold, aren't we?

I notice things, Envy purred, I’m getting a strong whiff of what I crave. How delicious, Your Majesty!

Envy.

One word. A warning.

Envy didn’t back off. And Astra… well, I like her. But I’m curious…what’s really stopping you from telling her who she is? What are you afraid—

A flick of her fingers. Envy's voice died in a hiss as it was dragged into the Deep. Cerberus could deal with it. She had no patience for these games today.

“Afraid?” she murmured to herself. “Such a pedestrian emotion.”

Eydis's gaze dropped to her hand. Her fingers curled, but the warmth that had been there moments ago was already fading.

She should let it go.

She wouldn’t.

Afraid, huh?