My Pet Fox Is Actually A Demon Prince-Chapter 46: Who Is She?

The two of them sat across from one another in silence, separated only by the low table between them.

Calhoun could not rid himself of the unease curling in his chest at his uncle’s composure. There was no anger upon the man’s face, but he was still skeptical since the man was wearing a mask. Though the aura around his uncle seemed calm... if not strained.

His dark eyes held no accusation either.

Yet, it had been this very uncle, his only teacher, who had once warned him not to sow chaos within the empire, not to pursue the treacherous path of stealing the throne.

And still, Calhoun had done it.

He had done it because he was weary— weary of the scorn, the whispers, the isolation, and the cruelty that had followed him since birth.

To be born a half-fox demon within a bloodline that prided itself upon pure divinity was a curse to the Aurelian family. From the moment he opened his eyes, he had suffered for sins and circumstances that were beyond his choosing.

His mother had loved the Emperor with a desperate, reckless devotion, though she knew well that he already had an Empress and a son he cherished above all else.

Yet such knowledge had not stayed her heart.

Their forbidden union had given rise to him, and from that day onward, many claimed that the demon blood within him was born not of nature, but of the reckless transgression itself. To his father, he had never truly been a son, only a living reminder of his mother.

The only souls who had ever truly looked upon him without revulsion or the intent to exploit him, were his uncle and his elder brother, Lysander. They alone had never made him feel as though he were some ill omen cast upon the heavens.

But then his brother had been taken from him– lost to another’s whim– and whatever light had remained within him had dimmed.

If Calhoun had endured as long as he had, it was because of his uncle. Lord Caelion had been the one extended to him in a court that had offered him none. Because of that, he was the only man Calhoun had ever truly respected, and listened to.

"What brings you here?" Lord Caelion asked once they had settled, his voice even and unreadable. "If you have not come to seek forgiveness from your father, nor to see how your clan has endured in your absence, then why have you come?"

Calhoun remained quiet for a moment, before speaking.

"I heard my father intends to send you to the Sacred Order. Why you?"

Lord Caelion shifted in his seat. "The situation has grown dire," he said. "Have you not seen that the Veinlight has become unstable?"

His gaze lifted to meet Calhoun’s.

"You, of all people, should understand the significance of the Veinlight. It is the blood of this world— the current that has long kept the realms in balance. But, ever since it shattered, the barriers between worlds have begun to weaken. Corrupted creatures now slip through the fractures and invade the realms."

Calhoun’s gaze sharpened at the news.

But Lord Caelion continued calmly.

"The Veinlight strengthens the magic woven through every realm. Without it, all shall descend into disorder, and the land of the mortals will also be affected."

"This is why humans were permitted to partake in this year’s trial," Calhoun said quietly, realizing with grim clarity that his human was currently being prepared for war.

Lord Caelion inclined his head.

"Your father has entrusted me with the training of promising initiates, so that they might be strengthened for what is to come."

Then his expression darkened.

"With that said, you shouldn’t be here, Calhoun. The citadel is no longer safe for you. Your father is more furious this time, and he has set the realm searching for you. Your body is still at a disadvantage, and it will be easy for them to subdue you if you are ever found."

"I care what little he does to me," Calhoun replied, "I know I started the war, of that I will not deny. But the Veinlight breaking has nothing to do with me."

Lord Caelion let out a slow breath.

"You believe I do not already know that?" he asked quietly. "Yet you are still part of the calamity. More than once, I warned you not to act rashly. Do you think I do not understand the anguish that drove you to raise your hand against your own home? I had a feeling something like this was going to happen."

In truth, there were moments when Caelion still wished to strike the boy across the head for such reckless folly.

"The throne has only drifted farther beyond your reach," he continued. "If you wish to sit upon it one day, then you must first become a man worthy of it."

For once, Calhoun neither argued nor protested.

He knew well that he was reaping the consequences of his own deeds. He had been driven beyond endurance—but even so, that did not absolve him.

"Uncle," he said after a pause, his voice quieter than before, "allow me to go to the Sacred Order in your stead. If I am to rule this realm one day, then the least I can do is aid it while I still can."

Lord Caelion arched a brow at the sudden, unexpected proposal.

"And what do you know of teaching disciples? And you are too young to even be called a master."

"You taught me," Calhoun replied with a careless shrug. "Surely it cannot be so difficult."

"No."

The refusal came at once.

"Are you determined to see us both dragged to ruin?" Caelion said flatly. "I cannot grant what you ask. You have a remarkable talent for destroying reputations."

Calhoun did his utmost not to take offence.

"I swear I will bring you results," he insisted. "More importantly, I am offering you something in return, an opportunity. I can wear your mask and take your place at the Sacred Order, while you return to the mortal realm. No one will grow suspicious."

His eyes narrowed faintly.

"You once said there was unfinished business awaiting you there, if I’m not mistaken?"

Lord Caelion opened his mouth, only to close it again..

He studied the young man seated before him with awkward intensity, suspicion slowly creeping into his gaze. There was something decidedly amiss in Calhoun’s strange eagerness to train the initiates. The Calhoun he knew barely tolerated the existence of other people.

"Who is she?"

Calhoun nearly choked. He coughed once, caught wholly off guard by the question.

"...Pardon?"

"It is the only explanation," Lord Caelion said, wanting to fit the puzzle in his head. "If there is anything else in this world capable of making a man act such a fool, it is a woman."

A knowing look entered his eyes.

"So," Lord Caelion said, the faint curve of amusement still lingering upon his lips, "you have finally found your mate."

When Calhoun made no effort to deny it,Lord Caelion gave him a long, disbelieving look, genuinely dumbfounded.

"You witless boy. We are over here attempting to mend the ruin you have brought upon the realm, and all the while you are off living some tale from a minstrel’s song?" He folded his arms across his chest. "Is she one of the initiates?"

Calhoun hesitated.

"She..." For the first time since entering the pavilion, uncertainty crossed his face. "She is still undergoing the trial."

The words had scarcely left his mouth before his thoughts turned dark.

The corrupted beasts invading realms.

The failing barriers.

What if she was in danger?

"Uncle," he said again, far more urgently this time, "what if I swear upon my name that I will not disgrace yours? I will do honour to your title. By the time I am done, the people shall praise you as though you had descended from the heavens themselves."

Lord Caelion snorted softly.

"You have never spoken so earnestly in all your life."

"I wish to make amends," Calhoun continued, using his trick card. "Will you truly be so cruel as to deny me this one thing? You know what I’ve been through. Be more nicer to me."

"You disobedient thing. Have you have no shame at all?" he muttered.

Yet the edge in his voice had lessened.

"Very well."

Calhoun straightened at once.

"But before I agree," Lord Caelion said, fixing him with a stern look, "I want to hear your plan."