Chapter 10
AND SO HE’D LEFT. NOT forever, by any means, and not to the other side of the Earth.
Gael had gone back to Olympia. Because the elf had a job, and his vacation days had been spent.
They talked every day, planned for him to come and stay over the weekend as they navigated their new life. The bond and their feelings might have been older than time, but the relationship was very new and needed to be... organized.
So, all in all, she should not be this gloomy.
From her couch, Beth opened the apple compote she and Gael had made that first afternoon together. She started a movie, something with lots of action and zero sap because she was already an emotional mess, and plunged a spoon into the compote. It was delicious and the perfect way to end the day.
She missed him. In a very physical way. Not just his body, though she absolutely missed the way he felt pressed close to hers or the way he touched her, talked to her.
It was deeper than that. Something in her felt misplaced, as if her heart had slipped slightly off-center in his absence, and while she still functioned perfectly well, she felt disquieted. She didn’t care for the sensation.
Which led to another question: how would they fix it?
She wasn’t dumb or delusional. Gael was third in line. He had duties to the High Family and an important job in Olympia. Meanwhile, she was, in fact, a waitress.
She could build on top of that, sure.
She was proud of her job, proud of the way she ran the pub with Elara and Aryon, proud of the community they’d fostered in Mystic Hollow. This weird, magical town had given her something she never thought she’d have: roots, pride, contentment.
But when the inevitable, what’s next? drifted into her thoughts, the simple truth was that, between the two of them, she was the one who could leave.
Did she want to?
No.
Would she, if the alternative was this quiet ache in her chest and missing Gael so much it hurt?
Yeah.
Despite everything she loved about her life here, not admitting that Gael held her heart—safely, completely—would be unforgivable. She wanted to build something with him, a life where they tended to their love like she did her garden.
She loved Mystic Hollow and everything in it. She loved Gael more.
Of course, she wouldn’t ask or push. She had no plans to spring dramatic ultimatums or romantic speeches. Things would evolve. They’d talk. Maybe he had other plans or visions. It wasn’t a one-sided decision.
But it felt good to know where she stood.
Satisfied with that clarity, she closed the jar, curled back into the cushions, and finally tried to pay attention to... whatever it was she’d been watching. The main character had just blown something up, so she figured things were going well for him. She’d catch up.
Then—knock knock knock.
Beth startled, but didn’t move immediately. She closed her eyes, took a breath, and tried to convince her heart not to leap into her throat.
It’s fine. Bryn’s in custody. No one wants you dead. Probably.
And besides, someone looking to harm her wouldn’t knock first.
She exhaled, rose from the couch, and crossed the room.
She opened the door.
And stared at a tall, willowy elf with cheekbones sharp enough to cut stone and an expression of practiced disdain.
The female was dressed in some ethereal, impervious-looking ensemble that probably cost more than Beth’s house, and she was currently studying Beth the way Beth studied aphids on her roses–closely, critically, and with ill veiled disgust.
“Can I help you?” Beth asked, standing up straighter out of pure reflex.
“I am Sereliane Velthira Caladwel,” the woman said, voice clear and resonant. Her accent was High Elven, precise and melodious, but with enough frost layered into each syllable to give Beth a slight shiver.
Beth blinked, waiting for the name to mean something.
It didn’t.
Which clearly only aggravated the female more.
“Gaelithian’s mother,” the elf added.
Oh.
Oh!!!
Oh, shit.
Okay, then.
“Good evening, Mrs. Caladwel. Please come in.”
Gael’s mother stepped over the threshold with the kind of grace that made Beth hyper-aware of her mismatched socks and the faint scent of whatever candle she’d last lit, probably something deeply offensive to elven noses.
The female swept into the house like she owned both it and the air inside.
She glanced around slowly, her eyes dragging over every surface like a silky knife.
Nothing escaped her inspection. Not the little stack of unread mail by the door.
Not the thin veil of dust on the shelves she kept promising to clean.
Not the chipped mug on the coffee table that said World’s Okayest Human–Elara’s gift.
Gael’s mother didn’t comment on any of it.
Beth shut the door behind her and cleared her throat. “Can I, um, get you something to drink?”
The elf’s gaze settled on her like a winter storm pausing at the edge of fury. “No. Thank you.”
That thank you was purely performative, and the no sounded more like an indictment of Beth’s very existence.
Beth offered a brittle smile and motioned toward the living room. “Please, make yourself comfortable.”
“I prefer to stand.”
Of course she did.
Beth resisted the urge drag a chair close to her out of defiance.
Instead, she stood across from her awkwardly, trying to match her posture and failing spectacularly.
Gael’s mother didn’t slouch. She didn’t perch.
She stood like she was created from the concept of perfection and was absolutely confident that the universe would never deny her anything.
“So,” Beth said finally, because silence was starting to feel like a punishment. “If you came for Gael, he’s back in Olympia.”
“I know where my son is. I came to see what he thinks he’s bound himself to.”
Beth blinked. “I—excuse me?”
The intake of air was disdainful at best. “He came home to tell me he found his fated mate. It’s clearly a misunderstanding.”
“I’m pretty sure it isn’t. We both feel it pretty strongly.”
She scoffed. “Spare me. It simply is unheard that an elf, one of Gael’s bloodline, no less, could stoop so low as to bond with a human. A waitress.”
At some point, she would think about what was with everyone thinking waitressing was a lowly job, but right now, there were bigger things to address. She drew in a long breath, and got ready for the blow. “Well, ma’am, fate’s a bitch.”
Could elves have a heart attack or a stroke from sheer offense?
Because if so, Beth was pretty sure she was about to give elf cardiology a case study.
The woman’s spine straightened even more.
An impressive feat, considering she already carried herself like a queen, judge, and executioner all rolled into one.
Her eyes narrowed, as if Beth’s words had vandalized her family crest. Which she probably had.
“I will not allow that language in my presence.”
“You can leave, then.”
There it was. A crack in the marble statue. Gael’s mother blinked. Once. Slowly. As if recalibrating her entire worldview. “Gael is third in line. He has a duty to the High Lord and Lady and to his people. Part of the duty is to assure the bloodline remains strong.”
Beth crossed her arms, weight shifting to one hip. “And you think I’m going to water it down.”
“I know you will,” the elf said coolly, like she was commenting on poor wine pairings. “I have lived long enough to see unions fracture entire houses. The realm requires stability. Legacy. And what do humans know of it, child? Your kind is young and foolish.”
“And yours is stale and might be obsolete,” Beth said, her voice steady and scalding.
“You can hate it all you want, but I am what Gael wants, and that’s all I care about.
Not your precious realm, not your politics.
Him. I care about him.” She walked to the door, opened it with deliberate calm, and stepped aside. “I’m asking you to leave now.”
His mother blinked, stunned. No one in centuries had dared dismiss her, possibly. Then, dignity clutched tighter than her pearls, she swept out without a word.
The door shut behind her and Beth stood there for a beat, hand still on the doorknob, heart pounding like she’d just outrun a bear. Or a High Elven matriarch, which might’ve been worse. Her breath came shallow, tight in her chest, but she didn’t move.
She needed to hold on to something, or she’d start shaking. Or crying. Or throwing things. Possibly all three.
The thing was, she hadn’t lied. Not once. Every word had been the truth, ripped raw from the certainty she’d only just come to terms with. She did love Gael more than anything. She did want a future with him. And she’d just faced down the dragon guarding his world and refused to burn.
Beth leaned her forehead against the door and closed her eyes. A small laugh broke out of her, sharp and a little stunned. Then she turned around, spine straightening. If Gael’s mother wanted a war, she’d picked the wrong girl to underestimate.
She grabbed her phone, thumb hovering over Ann’s contact, ready to call and scream and sob. Then she stopped.
Truths spun in her mind like storm debris.
Truth: she loved Gael. Deeply, stupidly, irrevocably. Nothing and no one would change that.
Truth: his mother was a first-class bitch. If Beth’s father were still around, the two of them would probably be engaged in a passive-aggressive power struggle over brunch.
Truth: she knew jack-all about Gael’s life as a functioning, duty-bound member of the Elven High Family.
And if she really wanted to build a future with him, which she did, she needed to get her act together.
Fast. Because if she was going to be part of that glittering, backstabbing, legacy-obsessed mess, then dammit, she was going to be an asset.
Not a liability. Not a fragile secret. Not something to be protected or hidden away.