Chapter 38
Chapter Thirty-Eight
“ Elara… Elara… wake up.”
Her voice was soft but insistent—pulling me from the fog of sleep like a distant whisper carried on the wind.
“Wake up, Elara.”
I tried to move, but my body felt frozen, as if the ice from the dream had seeped into my bones. I could see her—Aeliana—flickering in and out of focus, her pale form framed by darkness, her eyes pleading with me from across the void.
“Elara. Wake up.”
I gasped, bolting upright in bed, but the lingering chill of the dream was quickly replaced by something far more tangible.
A knife, cold against my throat.
My heart skipped a beat as I realized Lyra was standing over me, her face inches from mine, the blade pressing lightly into my skin. The moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting shadows across her features. Her eyes gleamed with something dark—jealousy, maybe, or something far more dangerous.
“Good morning, Princess,” she purred, her voice a low, dangerous melody. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”
“Lyra?” My voice came out breathless, the icy grip of fear tightening around my chest. “What are you?—”
She smiled, her teeth glinting in the dim light as she applied the slightest bit more pressure with the knife. “Your guards are lazy. You’d be dead by now if I were the Dragon King.” She said his title with a sneer, as if even mentioning the Dragon King was beneath her.
I tried to stay calm, but the fear bubbling up inside me was impossible to ignore. I could still hear Aeliana’s voice ringing in my ears, her warning echoing through the remnants of the dream. “What do you want, Lyra?”
She leaned in closer, her breath brushing against my cheek. “Just curious,” she whispered. “Did you really get a note from the Dragon King, or are you making that up to get attention? Maybe trying to make our dear king jealous?” Her lips curled into a smirk, and she stepped back, twirling the blade in her hand.
I let out a shaky breath, but the terror didn’t dissipate. “Why would I lie about something like that?”
“Why wouldn’t you?” she countered. “You must be thrilled with the attention. Ciaran was very upset last night. Furious, actually. Imagine—the Dragon King getting in without anyone knowing.” She clucked her tongue, tilting her head mockingly. “He doubled the patrols. I wonder why he cares so much about you, hmm?”
The edge of her jealousy was unmistakable now. She wasn’t just here to taunt me—she was testing me. Lyra wanted to see how I would react, how much I could take.
“I didn’t ask for this,” I muttered, my hand tightening into a fist beneath the blankets, my skin still tingling with the chill of the dream. “I didn’t ask for any of it.”
Lyra’s laugh was cold and humorless. “No, but you’re not doing a very good job of staying out of the spotlight, are you?”
Before I could respond, the door burst open, and Rhydian stormed in, his expression thunderous. His sword was half-drawn, and his eyes immediately locked onto Lyra.
“Get away from her,” he growled, stepping forward, his hand tightening around the hilt of his sword.
Lyra didn’t flinch. In fact, she smiled—slow and dangerous—as she slid the knife back into its sheath at her hip. “Relax, dog. I was just… checking on our little princess. Making sure she’s keeping her wits about her.” Her gaze shifted back to me, her smirk widening. “You’ll need them.”
I sat up straighter, my breath finally returning to normal, though the tension in the room didn’t dissipate. “I’m fine,” I said through gritted teeth.
Lyra’s eyes lingered on me for a moment longer before she pushed away from the wall. “Self-defense lessons start tomorrow,” she said over her shoulder as she sauntered toward the door. “I’ll be teaching you, of course. Wouldn’t want you to get hurt before the Dragon King arrives.” Her tone dripped with venom. “Who knows, maybe I’ll accidentally kill you during training. That would be tragic, wouldn’t it?”
She glanced at Rhydian one last time before strolling out of the room, her presence leaving a suffocating weight in the air.
The door clicked shut behind her, and Rhydian was at my side in an instant, his face a storm of emotions. “What the hell was that?” he demanded.
I let out a shaky breath, my hand instinctively going to my throat where the blade had been. “Just Lyra being Lyra.”
“You think this is a joke?” Rhydian growled, his voice low as he crouched in front of me, his eyes blazing. “She could’ve killed you. And no one would’ve stopped her.”
I forced myself to meet his gaze, but the adrenaline still coursing through me made it hard to focus. “She’s jealous.”
“Of what?” His voice was bitter, but there was something else beneath it—something possessive, dangerous.
“Of me. Of the fact that Ciaran is showing me care.” I swallowed, the truth of it settling in my stomach like a lead weight. “She thinks I’m trying to take him from her.”
“Maybe you should start listening to me and?—”
“Maybe you should actually be around when my life is in danger. Where were you, Rhydian? Reporting to the Queen of Icespire?”
Rhydian’s eyes burned into mine. “I was helping Ciaran question the staff. The Dragon King has someone on the inside. You think I’m just standing around, letting people attack you? Besides, I came when it counted.”
I shot back, sarcasm coating every word. “Really? Because from where I’m standing, it sure looks like you’re not around when I need you.”
Before he could respond, a soft murmur reached my ears—a low chant drifting through the crack under the door. The tension between us paused, replaced by a sudden unease as we both turned toward the sound.
I narrowed my eyes, recognizing the voice immediately. “What now?”
I marched toward the door, pulling it open with a quick jerk. The sight that greeted me was nothing short of bizarre.
Selene, the third wife, knelt just outside my door, her hands clasped together in prayer, her head bowed. Small offerings—herbs, candles, and what looked like some kind of incense—were scattered around her, and the faint smell of sage wafted through the air. Her lips moved rapidly, whispering fervent prayers to the sun god.
I blinked, staring at the scene in disbelief. “What… are you doing?”
Selene glanced up at me, her golden eyes gleaming with piety—and just the slightest hint of smugness. “I’m praying away the bad spirits,” she said serenely, her voice soft yet pointed. “After all, you’ve brought the Dragon King’s dark presence to our doorstep, haven’t you?”
I gaped at her, utterly flabbergasted. “Are you serious?”
She continued her ritual, dipping her fingers into a small bowl of water and flicking droplets toward the doorway as she murmured another prayer. “The sun god will protect us, of course, but it never hurts to be thorough.” She glanced at me, her smile too sweet to be genuine. “You understand, don’t you?”
“Thorough?” I repeated, the absurdity of the situation hitting me all at once. “What, do you think I invited him over for tea?”
Selene’s expression remained perfectly serene, though there was a glint of something condescending in her gaze. “It’s not about blame, dear. It’s about taking precautions. The Dragon King’s influence is… insidious. One can never be too careful.”
Rhydian growled behind me, his patience clearly wearing thin. “This is ridiculous.”
Selene ignored him entirely, focusing instead on arranging her offerings in some kind of precise pattern. “I’m sure you mean well,” she said, her tone saccharine, “but we must remain vigilant. Bad spirits are drawn to chaos, after all.”
Before I could snap back at her, a familiar voice interrupted the surreal scene.
“What is going on here?”
Bertha bustled down the hallway, her arms full of clothing and an exasperated expression on her face. She stopped short at the sight of Selene kneeling in the doorway, muttering prayers and flicking water around like some sort of holy sprinkler system.
“For goodness’ sake!” Bertha huffed, waving a hand to shoo her away. “Prayers? At this hour? What on earth do you think you’re doing?”
Selene stood gracefully, brushing off her robes as if she hadn’t just been performing a ritual in the hallway. “Just protecting the household. Surely you understand.”
Bertha raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Well, protect it somewhere else. The princess has enough on her plate without you summoning the whole pantheon of gods outside her room.”
Selene let out a soft sigh, looking at me with pity in her eyes. “If you ever need a cleansing, dear, just let me know. I’ll pray for your soul.” She gave me a solemn nod, her lips twitching in what might have been a smile, before gliding away down the hall, her robes trailing behind her like a ghost.
I stood there for a moment, still processing what had just happened, when Bertha turned to me with a huff.
“Honestly,” she muttered, “prayers for bad spirits. What’s next? Exorcisms?”
She shoved a pile of folded clothes into my arms, her expression brightening in contrast to Selene’s ominous ritual. “Here. These are yer new training clothes.”
I blinked down at the bundle of clothes in my hands. “Training clothes?”
“Ye didn’t think you’d be swinging a sword in a gown, did ye?” Bertha asked, her hands on her hips. “Ye need something practical. Pants.”
“Pants?” I echoed, barely able to contain my surprise. “I get to wear pants?”
Bertha gave me a flat look, clearly unimpressed with my enthusiasm. “Yes, pants. Ye’re unsalvageable, you know that? Absolutely unsalvageable.”
I grinned, the absurdity of the situation finally breaking through the tension from earlier. “Pants. I’m excited.”
Bertha shook her head, muttering something about how the world was going mad, before she grabbed Rhydian by the arm and dragged him toward the door. “And ye, soldier, stop hovering like a worried hen. She’s not going to shatter the moment ye leave the room.”
Rhydian shot me a concerned look, his mouth set in a hard line, but he allowed Bertha to lead him out of the room. Before he stepped through the door, though, he paused, his eyes locking onto mine.
“I’m going to make sure the patrols are tight,” he said. “If the Dragon King tries anything again, he won’t get close.”
I nodded, grateful for his protectiveness, but the knot of fear in my chest refused to loosen. I hadn’t told him about the dream. About Aeliana’s voice. About the way Lyra’s threats still lingered in the air like a shadow.
But as the door closed behind him, I couldn’t help but wonder if prayers and patrols would be enough to keep the darkness at bay.