FROST
Chapter 115: If I Vanish, Remember This Smile

Chapter 115: If I Vanish, Remember This Smile

"Seravine! Where are you, woman?!" Caspian half-growled, half-whispered, ducking beneath a low-hanging branch and promptly getting smacked in the face by a wet fern. He spat out a leaf and kept going, muttering to himself as he searched for any sign of her mana.

She wasn’t exactly hiding—but she wasn’t exactly making herself easy to find either.

Caspian narrowed his eyes. That was what bothered him.

She was a master at concealment. If she truly wanted to vanish, she could. But now... it felt like she was leaving breadcrumbs. Faint ones. Like she wanted him to find her, but only if he really tried.

Which he was. Unfortunately.

He stumbled over a root, nearly fell into a ditch, cursed loudly, and then—finally—sensed her.

He stopped, turned right, and immediately shoved through a mess of ferns and overgrown weeds with all the grace of a drunken goat. His boots squelched in mud, a vine slapped him across the forehead, and by the time he emerged at the clearing near the cliff, he looked like he’d been mugged by the forest.

But there she was.

Standing at the edge of the cliff like some tragic gothic heroine, backlit by moonlight, hair tousled by the wind. The long shadow she cast against the rocks made her look unholy—like a demon queen plotting the demise of men, starting with him.

Caspian froze. "Whoa, okay. Steady now." He raised both hands slowly, like she was a wild animal he might spook. "Look, I know I said I won’t give you a child, but that doesn’t mean you need to hurl yourself off a cliff in protest!"

Seravine turned to him with the deadliest look a woman had ever given him, and he once insulted a duchess’s soup recipe to her face.

"Shut up, Your Highness," she snapped. "I’m not throwing myself off a cliff over your divine cheekbones and pathetic reproductive unwillingness."

"That’s... a relief," Caspian muttered, hand over his chest. "But also, thank you for calling my cheekbones divine."

"I said they were regrettably wasted, not divine. Don’t flatter yourself."

He walked toward her cautiously, as if approaching a very pretty bomb.

"Alright. Estes said something’s wrong. You’ve been... weird." He gestured vaguely. "Weirder than usual. What’s going on?"

"Nothing."

"Please. I don’t have your fancy bloodhound nose, but I can smell a lie when it stinks this badly."

Seravine raised a brow. "If I tell you, will you finally take me as your concubine?"

He recoiled like she’d thrown a bucket of cold water at him. "Absolutely not."

"Then that’s your answer." She crossed her arms, turning back to the cliff like it was more tolerable than his company.

Caspian groaned, raking a hand through his hair. "You are the most exhausting woman I’ve ever—"

"No. I’m just done pretending I’m fine, that’s all." The honesty slipped out so fast he almost didn’t catch it.

It silenced him.

Not for long, of course.

"So you’re not coming to Asmaros with me?"

"Nope. Bad blood. Unfinished business. Mutual awkwardness."

He narrowed his eyes. "Wait. Did you also try to seduce him?"

Seravine gasped, scandalized. "Absolutely not! What is wrong with you?!"

"You said unresolved issues! That’s usually your brand!"

They both slapped their hands over each other’s mouths at the same time, gasping in mock horror, and for a fleeting moment, the tension broke.

But it returned quickly.

Caspian lowered his hand, voice dropping. "Seriously though. What’s going on, Seravine? I’m not great at... people feelings. But even I can tell something’s wrong."

She didn’t look at him. Just kept staring out at the horizon like she could escape into it.

"Because some things aren’t yours to fix, Caspian." Her voice was quiet now, but not weak. "And not everything deserves an explanation."

Caspian slowly walked, and stood beside her, crossing his arms with the air of a man who’d already given up before the conversation began.

"If royal blood’s really that important to you, I could pull some strings. There’s an unmarried prince back in the Northern Skies. Ethereal beauty, decent cheekbones, emotionally fragile—he’d probably write you tragic poetry within the first week. Total catch."

Seravine sighed heavily, brushing her hair behind one horn. "And what? Hope he doesn’t go into cardiac arrest when he sees these?" She tapped a claw gently against one of her curved horns. "Not to mention my tail—when it shows up."

Caspian blinked, then took a very obvious step back to inspect her. "Wait a minute... you’ve had horns this whole time?"

He leaned in with the squinting intensity of a man trying to solve a riddle written in ancient runes. "Gods above, how did I miss that? They’re majestic. Intimidating. Beautiful, in a morally confusing sort of way."

His gaze dropped to her back, curiosity sparking like wildfire.

"Right, so where’s the tail?" he asked, already reaching out and lifting a corner of the cloak before she could protest. "Don’t tell me it’s tucked somewhere scandalous—OW!"

Seravine smacked the back of his head with enough force to make his crown of pride tilt.

"Perverted king!" she snapped, yanking her cloak away from him. "I said it’s seasonal! I don’t drag it around like an accessory!"

Caspian winced, rubbing the sore spot. "You’re the one bringing up tails without warning. I was just trying to appreciate the anatomy of a demoness!"

"Try appreciating from a safe distance before I sprout it just to strangle your royal neck."

Caspian immediately stepped back, both hands raised in mock surrender.

"Hey now, it’s not like you didn’t try to get me laid down there—"

"Let’s not revisit that disaster," Seravine cut in quickly, flashing him a wicked grin. There was something in her eyes that made Caspian’s mouth clamp shut and his gaze dart awkwardly to the trees.

"Right. Understood. Never happened," he muttered.

Silence lingered for a beat, the only sound being the wind brushing against the cliffside.

Then Seravine’s voice returned—quiet, yet edged with urgency. "You’d better get going. Time isn’t on your side."

Caspian glanced at her again, reluctant to leave. "And when I come back, you owe me answers. Real ones."

Seravine finally turned to face him fully, her expression unreadable save for the tired curve of her mouth. "That’s if you survive Asmaros first, yes?"

Caspian smirked, brushing his fingers through his hair like a prince posing for a statue. "Oh, I will. And when I do, I expect the full confession. No more riddles, demoness."

"Then you better come back alive, Your Highness. I only speak truths to the living."

Caspian gave a mock salute, determination sparkling in his eyes. "Of course. Let’s get moving before you sprout that tail and wrap it around my royal neck."

Seravine smirked and took his hand. In a blink, they teleported back to where they had left Estes—only to find him utterly absorbed, sitting cross-legged on a flat stone, cradling the child like a doting, if slightly awkward, new parent.

"Oh, you poor little thing," Estes murmured softly, eyes locked on the child. "You must be starving, aren’t you?"

He produced a tiny jar of honey seemingly from nowhere, and as he tried to feed the child, his fingers fumbled clumsily, nearly dropping the jar. The child’s wide eyes stared up at him suspiciously, making Estes chuckle nervously.

"Easy there, delicate little one. Just a bit of honey, nothing to be scared of," he whispered, his tone full of exaggerated patience.

Seravine and Caspian exchanged amused glances, but Estes didn’t even notice—they might as well have been invisible as he cooed and fussed over the child like a new parent on a first day.

The child finally tasted the honey and smiled, and Estes’ whole face lit up with triumph. "See? Patience and a bit of sweetness always do the trick."

He cradled the child closer, lowering his voice to a near-whisper. "We have to keep this little one safe. Whoever the parents are, they’re lucky to have an angel—not so angel like you." He glanced vaguely in their direction, but it was clear he hadn’t registered their presence at all.

Seravine rolled her eyes, barely suppressing a grin, while Caspian crossed his arms and smirked with royal amusement.

"Oh! You’re back!" Estes suddenly exclaimed, jolting upright as the honey jar vanished with a snap of his fingers. His robes fluttered comically as he tried to straighten himself. The child, blissfully unaware of the theatrics, had already begun dozing off again in his arms, tiny fingers curled into Estes’ tunic like a sleepy kitten.

"I see you took quite a liking to my son," Caspian teased, sauntering over with a grin that screamed mischief incoming. He extended his arms to take the child back, only to pause mid-reach when he caught Estes shooting him a look—eyebrows dancing like they had a secret performance to give.

"What?" Caspian muttered, leaning in suspiciously.

"What did she say?" Estes whispered dramatically, eyes darting toward Seravine like a gossiping aunt at a royal ball.

Caspian sighed. "Nothing... She only said she’d tell me once I return from Asmaros."

Estes blinked once. Then again. "Well then," he declared, voice full of urgency and not-so-subtle relief, "we’d better get going right now."

But instead of handing the baby over to Caspian, he turned on his heel, marched straight to Seravine, and carefully placed the child in her arms like he was passing off a sacred relic.

"Here. You look after him until King Caspian returns," Estes announced with the confidence of someone who had just delegated a royal decree.

"W–Why me?" Seravine stammered, eyes widening as she instinctively caught the child. She looked like she’d just been handed a ticking magical artifact. "I didn’t sign up for babysitting royalty."

"I heard you’re good with children," Estes replied with a knowing smile.

Seravine glared, but the child yawned and nestled closer into her chest, utterly smitten with her warmth. Her expression softened—just a little.

"Besides," Estes added as he stepped away, wagging a finger, "King Asmaros doesn’t like children. Not even a little bit. I once caught him glaring at a baby for crying too loud. Also a newborn, Seravine. He flared his wings like a furious swan. And that’s even a full-pledged demon child unlike this one here..."

Caspian turned toward them, hand over his heart with exaggerated sentiment. "Please take care of him, Seravine. I entrust my entire bloodline to you."

Seravine rolled her eyes again, adjusting the baby in her arms. "Fine. But if he grows tails and starts levitating, I’m blaming your side of the family."

Caspian gave her a quick wink before turning to Estes. The elf raised his hand, sparks of blue magic swirling between his fingers.

"Try not to get killed," Seravine called out dryly.

"No promises," Caspian replied with a grin. "But I’ll be back real quick!"

And with a snap of Estes’ fingers, both of them vanished in a twist of shimmering red and silver light.

Seravine stared at the lingering haze, a faint hum still vibrating in the air. "Real quick... before I disappear," she muttered under her breath, staring at the flickering remnants of Estes’ teleportation spell. "And people say I’m the dramatic one."

The baby gurgled in response. She sighed.

"Oh shut up, you’re cuter when you’re sleeping."