"Where on earth could it have dropped? Did the thing sprout legs and walk off on its own?"
Elios was practically flat on his chest against the cold floor, his broad, broadsword-bearing shoulders brushing ungracefully against the marble wall of the palace’s gallery. His head was turned completely sideways, his brows knitted into a tight, frustrated knot as he squinted beneath a velvet settee, keeping his eyes glued to the spotless floor.
A few paces away, Flio pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a long, weary sigh that vibrated deep in his chest. "I told you to secure it properly. How does a lucky charm simply slip off a sword belt without you noticing?"
"I tied it properly!" Elios shot back, his voice muffled as he ducked behind a massive marble pillar to peer into a dark, shadowed alcove. "I used a proper double knot around the leather sheath! Somehow, the thing just finds a way to work its own way loose."
Flio shook his head, resigning himself to the search. For the past fifteen minutes, they had been pacing back and forth through the royal wing like hounds following a faint scent, scanning every inch of the woven carpets and borders.
They were supposed to just be killing time outside, waiting for Zarius and Cherion to finish up their lunch, but then Elios gasped, this sharp, ragged, borderline-hysterical sound that ripped right through the quiet.
Flio flinched, his hand dropping toward his hip as his head whipped around. His pulse spiked instantly, eyes darting from the shadows of the arches to the ends of the corridor. An assassin? Here? In broad daylight? How dare...
He had his defense running through his head before he even spotted a threat. But as he tracked back to Elios, he realized there was no shadow in the corner. No drawn blade.
Just Elios, staring wide-eyed at his own empty palm, looking like the world had just ended because his lucky charm was missing.
Flio’s shoulders slumped, all the breath deflating out of his chest at once. He closed his eyes for three long seconds, silently asking the heavens for a fresh dose of patience. "Elios... if it is lost, let it be. Perhaps the charm fulfilled its purpose and absorbed whatever ill fortune was waiting for you today."
"I can’tsimply leave it!" Elios insisted, pushing himself up off the floor with a heavy grunt and aggressively brushing the palace dust from his trousers with a scowl. "Reiner made that!"
Flio paused. Yes, Reiner had spent days painstakingly braiding those small protective tokens before their last major subjugation. He had proudly handed one to Flio and insisted on gifting one to Elios as well, claiming Elios was far too reckless on the battlefield and needed all the divine favor the gods could grant him.
Flio glanced at Elios, a smile touching the corner of his lips. "...I was unaware you treasured his gift so deeply."
Elios crossed his heavy arms over his chest, standing tall and puffing out his jaw with absolute conviction. "It is a matter of basic respect! A person sits down, puts real effort into crafting a protective charm, and hands it to you before you march off into a nest of bloodthirsty beasts... you do not just lose it in some sanitized, grand palace! I am finding it, even if I have to tear up these silk rugs."
Flio let out a quiet, defeated chuckle, his sharp eyes softening despite his sheer exhaustion. "Very well. Let us split up for a moment to cover more ground. Search every inner corridor, every room, every inch of floor you’ve stepped on since walking through those doors. I will retrace our steps outside along the stone walkway we took from the carriage courtyard."
"Agreed," Elios grunted, immediately dropping back down on one knee with relentless determination to peer beneath a heavy sideboard. "Do not return empty-handed."
Leaving Elios to his meticulous inspection of the palace interior, Flio turned on his heel and walked down the grand gallery, slipping through the tall archway that led toward the outer grounds.
If the token had fallen off during their arrival, the charm should have stood out clearly against the paths. But as Flio descended the grand marble steps, his keen gaze swept the manicured walkways only to find them completely pristine, swept clean by the palace staff.
I may need to inquire with the household stewards to see if anyone collected it, Flio thought, massaging his temples to stave off a mounting headache.
He paused near a group of passing attendants carrying silver tea trays, asking politely if anyone had spotted a stray braided talisman along the path. The servants merely offered polite curtsies and shook their heads, confirming that nothing of the sort had been turned in to the head steward.
A soft sigh slipped past Flio’s lips as his feet carried him back toward the glass garden, the very first place they’d stepped into when they arrived.
Flio walked slowly down the central aisle of the greenhouse, peering carefully between lush fern fronds, hanging vines, and decorative clay planters. He even checked along the edges of the raised stone garden beds, searching for any glint of silver thread. Yet, there was still no sign of Elios’s charm.
Disappointed, Flio paused beside a central stone fountain, taking a quiet moment to wipe a bead of sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. He resolved to turn back, return to the hallway, and deliver the disappointing news to Elios, silently praying the charm was already sitting in Elios’s hands.
As he turned to leave, the distinct, measured crunch of leather boots against fine gravel echoed softly through the glass house.
Flio froze in his tracks.
Standing near the arched entrance of the conservatory, framed by the bright sunlight streaming through the glass overhead, was a tall figure dressed in dark, silver-trimmed royal livery. The sun caught the deep green hue of his neatly styled hair. His posture was impeccably straight, his hands folded neatly behind his back as his eyes fixed directly upon Flio.
It was Karson.
All the warmth drained out of the glass house in an instant. Between them, the steady splashing of the fountain seemed unnaturally loud.
Karson tilted his head, his face still guarded, the hard edge around his eyes softening just enough the moment he met Flio’s eyes.
"Good to see you, Flio." Karson greeted softly. "Are you looking for something?"
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