Odessa followed Wether's retreating figure with narrowed eyes.
He didn't even look back.
"What do you mean I'm not what they told me?" she called.
He kept walking.
"What do you mean dreams know me?!" she yelled louder.
That finally made him pause.
He turned, grin lazy. "You know, for someone raised among secrets, you're remarkably bad at keeping your voice down."
She stomped after him. "Answer me!"
Wether folded his arms behind his head, completely unfazed by her royal fury. "You want answers, princess? Fine. Here's your bedtime story."
He slowed his steps and looked sideways at her, dark eyes glinting.
"There once was a queen," he began. "A queen who walked barefoot through death and darkness, bleeding for a kingdom that never mourned her. She wore a crown not forged in gold, but in vengeance. That crown disappeared."
His grin returned, sharper now.
"They call it the Forged Crown. And guess what?"
Odessa waited, breath caught.
"That crown? It was meant for you."
She blinked. "Excuse me?"
Wether stopped, turning to face her fully now. "You heard me. The dreams, the whispers, the path you ran in the night — they're all memories, Odessa. Not illusions."
She took a step back. "You're lying."
"I wish I was." He sighed dramatically. "Then I wouldn't have had to come drag a royal half-blood sword-swinging dream-girl into a political mess older than the dust in your father's throne room."
Her hand went instinctively to her sword hilt. "You're insane."
"I've been called worse."
He suddenly leaned in, voice lowering.
"The queen in your dreams. You think she's just some ghost in silk and blood. But she's more than that. She's your blood. Your mother."
Odessa froze.
"That's not possible," she whispered.
"Ask your father," he said with a grin. "Oh wait—he won't answer."
The insult hit harder than she expected.
Wether turned, walking again, his voice floating behind him.
"Come with me. There's someone you need to meet. A general. In exile. Name's Madoc."
Odessa frowned. "I'm not going anywhere with you."
He sighed, hand running through his hair. "Why does no one ever say yes the first time? Makes everything unnecessarily dramatic."
"Maybe because you talk like a cryptic storybook that's had too much wine."
He snorted. "That's fair."
She crossed her arms. "Why should I trust you?"
Wether raised a brow. "Because I'm the only one who didn't flinch when you asked about the Forged Crown. And because if I meant to harm you, princess…" He leaned close, tone suddenly serious, "...you'd already be bleeding."
Odessa held her breath.
"Still don't trust me?" he said, stepping back and stretching like he had all the time in the world. "Fine. Stay here. Practice your swings. Go back to your royal breakfasts and gilded silence."
He began walking away again, whistling. "Just know that while you're doing that... someone else might be wearing your crown."
That stopped her.
"Wait."
Wether paused mid-step, tilting his head like a cat who just won something.
"Yes?" he said sweetly.
Odessa exhaled. "I'll come. Just to see this Madoc."
He smirked. "Of course. Just a visit. Nothing binding."
"And if I don't like what I hear... I'm leaving."
Wether placed a hand on his heart, mock sincerity in his tone. "Scout's honour."
"You were never a scout."
He winked. "I also never said I was honest."
Odessa groaned, but followed him nonetheless.