PRISON KING'S RETURN

chapter 3

Master Halvion leaned in too close.

So close his beard nearly brushed the paper.

The elder’s initial sneer froze halfway, his breath catching as his eyes skimmed the ink. The flush of embarrassment on his face twisted sharply—then stalled.

“Y-you—how dare y—” His voice cracked.

“Wait.”

His pupils widened.

“Marriage… agreement?”

The word left his mouth like a curse.

The man beside Cassian stepped forward, snatching the document before anyone could stop him. He scanned it once—then again. His jaw slackened.

“In sickness and in health…” he whispered.

“Till death do us part…”

His eyes slid down.

Groom: Drayce Ashborne.

Bride: Liora Valtarre.

The room seemed to tilt.

Cassian Valtarre moved closer, hands trembling despite himself. His eyes lingered on the seal, the signature—old, unmistakable.

“So…” His throat worked. “Father wasn’t lying after all.”

Before his own father, Alaric Valtarre had passed, he had mentioned an arrangement for Liora’s future. Cassian had laughed it off then. In this age, who still honored such things? He had assumed the groom had long forgotten, if he had ever existed at all.

Around them, murmurs bloomed like wildfire.

Was this the man she’d been waiting for?

Drayce folded the document with unhurried fingers and slid it back into his box. His gaze returned to the red-faced elder.

“How old did you say you were when you began honing your skills, sir?” he asked mildly. “I may have misheard.”

Master Halvion’s face burned crimson. The confidence he’d paraded earlier had collapsed in on itself. There was no graceful retreat from this.

“It—it must be fake!” the young man barked suddenly. “Mr. Cassian, it has to be! A forgery like this should be destroyed immediately!”

“It’s genuine,” Cassian said quietly.

The words tasted bitter.

He exhaled and turned to Drayce. “On behalf of the Valtarre family, I acknowledge this agreement as valid. But times have changed. We should still hear Liora’s wishes.” His voice softened. “Why not offer your blood as well? If she awakens, we’ll decide then.”

Drayce shook his head once.

“No need.” He closed the box. “I’m only here to end the marriage.”

He tossed the document back. Cassian caught it on instinct.

“Consider the prescription payment for the cancellation,” Drayce added as he turned away. “You’re welcome.”

The doors loomed ahead.

Gasps followed him. Whispers collided. No one could decide whether he was arrogant—or mad—for walking away from the Valtarre name.

Cassian’s expression darkened. Declined. Publicly.

Beside him, the young man leaned in. “Don’t let it trouble you, Mr. Cassian. He knows his place. A man like that could never deserve Lady Liora.”

Cassian said nothing.

Later, once the blood had been collected, he ascended the stairs. Master Halvion and the young man followed.

They entered a quiet chamber bathed in pale light.

Liora lay upon the bed, her lashes resting against porcelain skin. Even in sleep, her beauty felt unreal. Soft, untouchable.

Before her illness, admirers had crowded the gates daily, each hoping to earn a glance.

Now, she did not stir.

Master Halvion arranged the bowls near her bedside, murmuring incantations under his breath. Minutes passed.

But nothing.

At her side, Elyria Valtarre clasped her daughter’s hand, tears sliding silently down her cheeks.

“Master Halvion…” she whispered. “How is my daughter?”

The elder sighed, shoulders sagging.

“There is still no sign of her fated half. We can only continue to wait.”

“You said he would be in Aurelia,” Elyria cried softly. “Every eligible man has already tried. Who else could it be?”

Halvion closed his eyes, fingers twitching as he recalculated. When he opened them again, his voice was firm.

“He is in this city.”

Then his gaze shifted slowly toward the young man beside Mr Cassian.

The young man was Lucien Marrick Vale, an heir to one of Aurelia’s rising upper-class families, old money ambition wrapped in polished manners.

“I…” He hesitated, brows knitting together. “I’ve always thought of Liora as a younger sister. Nothing more.” His jaw tightened.

“But… fine. I’ll try.”

He didn’t wait for encouragement.

Lucien brought his finger to his mouth and bit down. Skin broke. A sharp breath escaped him as crimson welled up. He held his hand over Master Halvion’s bowl and let the blood fall.

The moment it touched the surface—

Liora coughed.

It was faint. Fragile. But real.

Elyria gasped, clutching her chest as hope surged too fast, too hard. Cassian stepped closer, his breath caught somewhere between prayer and fear. Even Lucien closed his eyes, lips moving soundlessly, willing the miracle to finish what it had started.

Seconds stretched.

But nothing.

Liora’s breathing evened out again, shallow and distant, as if she were slipping further away instead of returning.

The room dimmed with disappointment.

Master Halvion frowned, lines deepening between his brows. “No… I’m certain it’s you,” he muttered. “Perhaps it requires more.”

Lucien didn’t argue. He bit into another finger, teeth sinking in harder this time. Blood dripped faster, splashing into the bowl.

Liora coughed again—once, weakly—then fell still.

“Again,” the old man snapped.

Lucien’s face had gone pale, but he obeyed. Another bite. Another sharp inhale. His hand trembled as he held it out, pain blooming up his arm.

This time—

Nothing at all.

No cough. No stir. Liora lay eerily quiet, her chest rising so faintly it was almost imperceptible.

Elyria’s breath hitched. She stepped closer to the bed, eyes wide with terror. “Why isn’t she waking up?” Her voice shook. “She looks… she looks like she’s sinking deeper.” Tears spilled freely now. “Should we—should we use a knife? Draw more blood?”

Lucien flinched at the suggestion, his face draining of color as he turned to Master Halvion with a wordless, pleading look.

The old man’s confidence finally cracked.

His fingers tightened around the bowl, knuckles whitening. For the first time in decades, doubt crept into his eyes. He couldn’t understand it—his methods had never failed like this before.

Cassian Valtarre, however, felt a chill crawl up his spine. Drayce’s words echoed in his mind with unsettling clarity. His daughter’s breathing was shallower now. Slower.

“This isn’t helping her,” Cassian said hoarsely. Then, with sudden resolve, he barked, “Get me groundsel. Now.”

The room froze.

Those herbs were notoriously hard to come by—rare, toxic, and avoided by most healers. But Cassian Valtarre was not most men. Orders were relayed. Doors opened and shut. Within the hour, the ingredients were in his hands.

They worked quickly. Carefully. The paste was bitter and dark, carrying a sharp, almost metallic scent. Cassian himself lifted the spoon, steady despite the storm raging in his chest, and fed Liora a small amount while she slept.

Once.

Twice.

Her lashes trembled.

“What…?” Lucien whispered, staring as Liora’s fingers twitched, then curled weakly against the sheets.

Cassian’s breath broke into a laugh that sounded dangerously close to a sob.

“She’s waking up—she’s waking up!” He straightened sharply, fire returning to his eyes. “Find Drayce. I don’t care where he is. Bring him here. Immediately!”

***** *****” ********** **”*”** ********** *******

‘Aurexen City — Lady Nyra Valewyn.’

Drayce flipped through the next marriage agreement, his expression flat. Nyra Valewyn. Aurexen City. Another powerful name. Another problem waiting to bloom.

He snapped the box shut. His master could show up at the prison at any moment, and Drayce needed to be there when it happened. Unfortunately, the sky had other plans. The weather alerts blared nonstop—thunderstorms grounding all outgoing flights for the rest of the day.

“Tch.” He slipped the box under his arm. “Perfect timing.”

With nowhere else to go, hunger won out. Drayce ducked into a nearby restaurant, intent on grabbing a quick meal and disappearing again.

The moment he stepped inside, he froze.

“Am I cursed?” he muttered when he spotted Selara—again.

She sat in a private room behind a glass partition, posture flawless, chin lifted with practiced elegance. Drayce immediately veered toward the common seating, determined to avoid her entirely.

Inside the private room, Selara raised her glass, smile composed but strained.

“To your health, Mr. Armand Kessler. I truly hope you’ll consider Cox Corp as the supplier for your new development. We pride ourselves on quality.”

Armand Kessler, one of Aurelia’s most elusive investors, barely glanced at her. .

“We’ll see.”

Selara’s fingers tightened around the stem of her glass, though her smile never wavered. This deal mattered—too much. She had only just taken control of the family business. Failure wasn’t an option.

“You seem distracted,” she said carefully. “Is there something I can help with?”

He finally looked at her then, eyes sharp, assessing. “You? Help?” His lips curved in faint disdain. “Fine. Lady Nyra Valewyn is arriving in Aurelia today. Arrange a meeting with her, and Cox Corp gets the contract.” He paused, then added coolly, “All future ones too.”

Selara’s breath caught.

Nyra Valewyn.

Her heart skipped hard enough to hurt. The Valewyn family was legendary—old money, vast influence, and rumored plans to redirect massive investments into Aurelia. She hadn’t expected them to move this soon.

With her current standing, reaching that family was nearly impossible.

The murmurs spread around the table, low and eager, like sparks catching dry grass.

“No wonder the airport went on standby today. So it really was Lady Nyra Valewyn on the plane.”

“Who else could pull something like that off? Influence like hers doesn’t come from nowhere.”

“I heard she’s on the same level as Lady Aurelian Drake.”

Selara listened without interrupting, fingers resting lightly on the rim of her glass. A faint smile curved her lips, calm and assured, as if the truth amused her.

“You’re all mistaken, friends,” she said at last, her tone soft but certain. “The airport didn’t go on standby for a woman at all.”

She paused just long enough for their attention to sharpen.

“It was because they were arresting a criminal.”

A ripple of surprise passed through the room.