At dawn the next day, pounding on the door jerked Jared awake. “Young Master Chance, time to depart.” Outside, Vivian’s cool voice carried through the wood panels.
Jared rose, opened the door, and found her standing there in simple white robes. The morning light wrapped her in a faint gold halo, like a figure from a painting.
“Good morning, Miss Chance,” Jared greeted. He stifled a yawn. “We’re heading to Dragonmere this early?”
“The Dragonmere entrance is open only from the hour of the Dragon to the hour of the Snake, two short hours,” Vivian explained. “Father and the elders wait at the main gate. Please come with me.”
Jared dipped his head and fell into step beside her.
All along the way the manor bristled with alert guards, patrols crossing paths at every turn. He noticed many of them stealing looks at him, some curious, some wary, a few carrying a hint of reverence.
Outside the gate eight beast-drawn carriages stood ready, harnesses already taut.
Garrick waited with hands clasped behind his back, the six elders arrayed in a line behind him. Farther back thirty elite guards stood at attention, each one a High Immortal Realm Level Seven or above.
Garrick’s eyes traveled over Jared once, then he gave a short nod. “Young Master Chance, did you rest well?”
“Thank you, Master Garrick. Quite well,” Jared replied with a smile. Still smiling, he added, “Your beds are far kinder than the stone caves I’m used to out in the wild.”
A faint upward twitch touched Garrick’s mouth. Interest flickered again in the patriarch’s eyes at the remark.
“Very well… Let’s be on our way.” Garrick waved a hand and mounted the first carriage without further delay.
Jared moved to follow, but Vivian stepped in front of him, raising a hand.
“Young Master Chance, please share the third carriage with me.” He arched a brow, then followed Vivian up the steps into the third beast-drawn carriage.
The cabin offered plenty of room. Soft pelts blanketed the seats, and a low table carried prepared tea and light snacks.
Vivian settled across from him. She said nothing, only watched him in silence. Jared felt the stare crawling over his skin.
“Miss Chance, do I have paint on my face?” he asked.
Vivian gave a small shake of her head. She drew a delicate jade case from her sleeve, lifted the lid, and revealed a silver Binding Collar resting inside. The Binding Collar gleamed silver-white from end to end. Dense runes covered the metal, each symbol pulsing with a faint inner light.
Jared’s gaze sharpened. Those markings were restriction sigils. Vivian offered the jade case across the table, her manner steady. “Young Master Chance, before we enter Dragonmere, please put this on.”
Jared did not take it. He looked at her evenly. “What is it?”
“A piece of protection.” Her tone stayed calm. “Dragonmere is layered with prohibitions. A careless step trigger a Slaughter Array. Our forebears inscribed safeguarding runes on this Binding Collar. In danger, they will shield you.”
Hearing this, Jared laughed.
Protection?
He was no array master, yet he had seen his share of restrictions. The lines on that Binding Collar clearly fused the Soulshackle Seal with a Tracker’s Mark. Once worn, the device would dampen his power, and every move would be reported to the caster. It would protect the House of Chance from him.
So much for protection…
Half smiling, he met her gaze. “Miss Chance, are you certain this counts as protection?” Her expression did not shift. “Young Master Chance, you don’t believe?”
He shook his head. “Doubt? I believe it all too well.”
He reached in, lifted the Binding Collar, and weighed the metal in his palm. Cold bit through his fingers. The runes, sensing a living aura, flickered faintly. He fixed his eyes on hers and spoke deliberately:
“Miss Chance, the House of Chance will only feel safe letting me into Dragonmere once this is around my neck, correct?”
Vivian paused, then nodded slowly. “Young Master Chance, you are perceptive.”
She offered no denial and no excuse, choosing open admission instead.
A spark of appreciation lit Jared’s eyes. He felt the woman was refreshingly frank.
“Miss Chance, you really didn’t have to go this far.” He toyed with the collar and said mildly, “Since I agreed to help you enter Dragonmere, I won’t back out. Making me wear this only proves there isn’t enough trust between us.”
Vivian pressed her lips together. “Young Master Chance, I trust you. But I am not the whole family.”
She held his gaze. “Of the six elders, three still harbor doubts. They see the Celestial Palace’s warrant on you and fear you may turn on us, or keep any treasure you find they insisted on the collar.”
Jared lifted a brow. “So you’re here as the lobbyist?”
Vivian shook her head. “No, I’m here to apologize.”
She rose and bowed deeply. “Young Master Chance, forgive us. This is unjust to you, yet for our family and for a smooth journey please bear with it. When we leave Dragonmere, I will remove the collar myself and make amends.
He watched her and said nothing for a long stretch. Then, without warning, he smiled. “Miss Chance, with an apology like that I can’t even muster anger.”
He snapped the Binding Collar around his throat, it locked with a crisp click. A strange current burst from the collar and raced through his meridians. His spiritual power thickened and dragged, as though a heavy hand pressed on it. At the same time, a faint thread of intent latched onto him, certain to follow wherever he roamed.
Seeing him buckle it on without hesitation, Vivian’s eyes flickered with a tangle of thoughts. “Young Master Chance, you… You’re not angry?”
Reclining against the carriage wall, he drawled, “What use is anger? With your six elders, a True immortal Patriarch, and thirty High Immortal guards, if I start trouble could I walk out of Cloudhaven alive?”
He looked at her, a playful curve lifting his lips. “Besides, you apologized in person. I’m hardly going to nitpick with a lady, am I?”
