The First Loss: Vaelor x Elora (Rogue X Ara Book 3)

Chapter 14

My chest clenched as Wryn came into view, weaving through the maze of tables and waving at the bartender. I quickly dropped my gaze to the mug in my hand when my heart leapt into my throat, and the world threatened to spin around me.

Was this really only my second cup? It very well could’ve been my sixth with the way my head felt, but my stomach was full, as was my soul, if only for the moment.

Footsteps approached, a shadow falling over the table.

“Holy hell,” Iaso said. “You smell awful.”

I stifled a smile, my hand covering my mouth as I snickered into it with scrunched eyes, but then the scent hit me, and I had to physically hold back a gag. “Oh, my Goddess.”

“Well, I told Fauna I’d help,” he said, his voice so warm and soothing, I wanted to curl up in it and sleep. Why did it have to be his voice that sounded like that? I wish he sounded like…trolls and crying babies. I laughed harder into my hand. “And I was lucky enough to stop in on stall-mucking day, so that’s what I did.”

My laughing ceased immediately. My face whipped to him, and for the first time in days, I saw him. Stubble had grown in around his jaw, framing that perfect mouth, but smudges of brown smeared across his cheek and neck, and I cringed. I could only imagine what that was. My gaze continued upward until I found his eyes already on me.

My head jerked back an inch, heat creeping into my cheeks. For some foolish reason, I hadn’t expected him to be staring in return. “You…mucked stalls?”

“I helped wherever I could,” he replied.

It was as if no one else existed. Maybe they didn’t. Maybe it was just us two in this room. Maybe his two silver eyes were the only things that existed at all. It sure felt that way.

“That’s…nice.” It was all I could conjure at the moment because it was nice—too nice for a king, but not for Wryn. No, Wryn would absolutely do that.

His mouth tipped up in a smile before it fell just as fast, dragging my drunken heart down with it. He cleared his throat and glanced over his shoulder at the bar. “I’m going to get a drink, then head for a swim before turning in for the night.”

A swim?I glanced to the window, but it was too dark to see anything other than the moon. The thought of being in that black sea, freezing and breath-stealing, tightened my throat. I swallowed another large gulp of mead.

I knew exactly what that icy water would feel like, so cold the heart forgot to beat before it raced painfully, so cold the lungs gasped like they were drowning until the skin went numb and everything burned.

I blinked rapidly and forced my eyes from the window to find Wryn taking a step back, then another.

He dipped his head toward Iaso. “Please show Elora to her room for me.”

My mouth fell open. I would have retorted something, but I was a little stunned, maybe offended he thought I needed an escort, and my mind was swimming in mead. It didn’t matter, though, because Iaso nodded, and Wryn just…walked away without a second glance. No goodbye or farewell or wave or words at all. Nothing.

“Iaso, do you have that cure by chance? I have a feeling I may need some.” I lifted the mug to my lips, my gaze following Wryn’s back as he walked across the room. “This is much stronger than what I’m used to.”

She chuckled softly. “Of course.”

At her confirmation, I downed the rest before flagging down the barmaid walking by our table. She nodded once when I ordered another, and Iaso lifted a brow at me. I merely shrugged my shoulders.

My eyes narrowed onto Wryn, though, his back wide and large. Anger pulsed through me again, and my leg bounced under the table.

I knew where my room was. I knew that. He knew that. Iaso knew that. We all fucking knew that. I didn’t need an escort just because I was me, and if I did, why couldn’t it be him?

Scratch that. I don’t want it to be him, because he kidnapped me. That was what this was, right? A kidnapping?

“He should go to prison,” I mumbled under my breath, too low for anyone else to hear.

My heart thundered as I watched him take a shot, then another. His throat bobbed as he swallowed the brown liquid, but there was no other reaction from him, like he’d done it a thousand times.

I waited for him to turn around. My thoughts screamed for him to turn around, peek over his shoulder, glance in our direction. I wanted to see something—remorse, guilt, regret, longing, lust, warmth, love.

But nothing.

He pushed the door open, exited, and it closed softly behind him. Chatter continued, the small band continued, everything continued, like he’d never been here at all, which was beyond baffling to me. The fact that others’ eyes didn’t track him through the room, that his scent didn’t threaten to consume them, that his voice didn’t carry over every other baffled me.

I blinked, and the room swayed slightly. It wasn’t until my hip hit the table that I realized I’d jerked to my feet.

Fuck.

One enraged step after another, I followed after him, my gaze locked on that damn wooden door. It didn’t open. It didn’t move at all, only growing larger as I neared it.

If the others called after me, I didn’t hear it. I heard nothing over my pounding heart as I shoved the door open and stepped into the chilled air.

I glanced left and right but saw nothing. My fists clenched at my sides. Heat flushed my skin as I released a scoff.

“How does he get to drag me here then disappear?” I mumbled, shaking my head.

I spun back to the door and swayed as the world kept spinning, even when my feet stopped. I inhaled slowly, my hand on the handle, but I was so damned angry. I didn’t want to go in there and sit back down. I didn’t want to roll over and do as he expected of me, of everyone.

He can’t order me around.

I turned away from the door.

He’s not my king.

Clenching my jaw, I lifted my skirts and jogged toward the sounds of crashing waves. When I stepped onto the sand, snapping my head left and right, my chest heaved from running and anger.

If he was going to force me to his side, then he was going to hear what I had to say.

Down the beach a ways, Wryn stood with his shirt off and pants rolled above his ankles. He stood at the water’s edge, letting the cold water lap at his feet, and my sights narrowed to it.

Cold.

Cold water.

Cold skin.

When fear started to slither up my spine, I jerked my eyes up to his face and stared daggers at his profile. If he felt my gaze on him, he didn’t show it. He remained with his hands in his pockets, staring at the water.

Why does he get a moment of peace when I’ve been ripped from my home? When he shoved me against a wall and licked and kissed me in a way no one else ever had, then left me? Ignored me for six months?

I’d finally come to terms with the end of our friendship—mostly—when he’d sent me that damned letter, and as pathetic as it was, I was going to meet him. I was going to show up, so he could inspect the damage he’d done. I assumed he’d simply crush the rest of my heart under his boot, but I hoped, in the very dark, very hidden depths of my heart, that he would apologize.

I wanted to hear an apology, and still, he hadn’t given one. No, worse. He hurt me, and then stole me from the ones who actually cared about me.

My cheeks flamed; my eyes burned. When my throat tightened, I swallowed against it. He simply stared out over the sea while my heart beat against the confines of its cage, faster and faster like whatever cracks I’d healed over those long six months were trying to shatter all over again.

I lifted my skirts again and strode toward him. My feet moved quickly—quicker than I would’ve thought possible considering the way the ground kept trying to sway from under my feet. The sand dipped and moved, tripping me when I gained speed.

“Fuck, stop moving,” I whispered at the ground.

But when I looked back to Wryn, he was closer than I’d thought, and now those eyes, those damned silver eyes that had moments ago been watching the waves, watched me.

His brows furrowed in confusion before his features fell flat. “I’m not moving.”

I rolled my eyes. “I wasn’t talking to you, asshole.”

His eyes flashed, and he closed the distance between us in two large strides. I stumbled back a step when his closeness, and thus his scent, bombarded me.

I started to take another step away, but my foot caught on my other or the sand or the damned ground reached up and snagged my ankle, determined to see me fall into its clutches.

Wryn caught my wrists and wrenched me forward.

I shrieked and collided with his front, my palms finding his chest, bare and warm and hard.

My mind stuttered when I looked up to find his eyes hard and his expression tight.

What the fuck does he have to be angry about?

I tilted my chin up, my jaw clenched as I narrowed my eyes at him. “I don’t need protection just because I’m a human. I’ve been doing quite well on my own, thank you.”

He quirked a brow, and my cheeks burned.

“I don’t need Iaso to walk me back to my room.”

His chest heaved with a sigh, alerting me to the fact that I was still pressed into him. I jerked my hands away from his skin and stepped back, but he didn’t release his grip. Rather, he pulled me back into him, and I squirmed against his hold. I jerked and jerked, which only made the world threaten to spin again.

“I didn’t ask her to do that because you’re human, Elora.”

I stilled, tense as I slid my gaze back up to meet his. He lowered his face ever so slightly, and I inched backward, feeling my pulse in my throat.

“I asked her to do that because you’re my human.”

My breathing stopped. My heart stopped. I feared the realm might have stopped. Or maybe it ceased to exist.

He tended to do that—eclipse the rest of the world until he was all I could see.

He released me then and dove into the water. I stood on the sandy beach, more confused than ever as I stared at my wrists. They suddenly felt cold at the absence of his warmth, and I wanted to scrub his touch away.

I stared at them, stared and stared until I started to doubt he was ever here, until I had started to convince myself he didn’t touch my skin and light me on fire from the inside. Maybe I’d imagined the entire thing and he didn’t call me his human.

Why would he say that? I wasn’t his human. I wasn’t anyone’s human.

But I could still feel him, could still smell him, could still hear his voice echoing in my ears.

He did touch me, but he’d touched me before, so I couldn’t understand why this moment felt different.

I didn’t know how long I stood there, but he never returned. It could’ve been seconds, minutes, hours, a day, a year, a lifetime.

My heart had calmed some, but I could feel the deathly, hollowing, terrifying feeling awakening within its chambers again, replacing the blood in my veins bit by bit.

After six long months of shoving it all down and telling myself over and over again that whatever we had was done, it was coming back—hope.

I didn’t know if I wanted to cry or laugh or both.

After Wryn left,I didn’t see him again for the rest of the night, but I did imagine him and run through every event for the first time since I’d left. The bed at the inn was comfortable, and I’d propped the window open to hear waves crashing on the shore. The breeze blew through, billowing the linen curtains and bringing with it the scent of brine and blooming flowers.

It was an impeccable lullaby, yet here I lay.

Because no lullaby, no matter how sweet, could drown out my racing thoughts. I wouldn’t be surprised if those in nearby rooms could hear them too, because they were screaming in my skull. My eyes kept falling to the door like it was only a matter of time before someone came to bang on my door and complain about the noise.

When a beam of moonlight landed on the bed, turning my skin a soft silver, my memory flashed back to the conversation I’d had with Alivia mere days ago. My heart physically ached from how much I missed her, and tears slid down the sides of my face to soak the pillow, but I couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up. It was a broken sound, sadder than it was humorous, but it grew until my belly burned, just as it had so many times with her.

“Perhaps he was sent as a gift—a gift to bless our eyes and feed our midnight activities,”I’d said. How ironic, truly, because he had fueled my ‘midnight activities.’ Many times, in fact.

Just without the crown or title.

Tonight, my midnight activities consisted of wallowing in drunken self-pity, and my thoughts certainly kept circling back to him, but not for the reasons I’d implied.

Stupid, foolish reasons.

Another sob broke free, and I rubbed my already swollen eyes, tired and burning. I didn’t know how long I’d been lying there, but the moon had already peaked and begun its descent, so a few hours, at least.

“Ugh.” I slapped my hands down on the mattress and threw the covers back to crawl out of bed, pausing for a moment when the room swayed around me. When my head stopped spinning, I downed the second vial of cure from Iaso and stumbled to the open window. It framed a perfect view—clear black skies, speckled with stars and a bright full moon, its reflection bouncing off the even darker waves below. The sea was beautiful from afar, soothing, even. I’d always thought it was, as long as it didn’t lick at my skin.

I grabbed a nearby chair with both hands, not flinching in the slightest when I started to drag it and an obnoxious scraping pierced the silence. I merely moved faster and hoped the sound was confined to the room.

With it facing the window, I plopped down and pulled my legs up to cross them beneath me. The chair was large enough to sink into and lean my head back, even comfier than the bed, cozy in a way that swallowed me. Sitting up, I reached over the back of the chair to grab the blanket from the bed, then snuggled in, tucking my hands beneath my cheek as I leaned my head on the armrest.

Pale sunshine bathedmy face in a welcomed warmth.

I yawned, my joints cracking as my arms stretched up, and the blanket fell to my lap to expose my skin. When a crisp breeze drifted in through the open window, I gasped and my eyes flew open before squinting against the bright light. I pulled the blanket back up around my shoulders and greeted the morning with a growing smile. Clear blue skies and a deep blue ocean beneath it stared back at me, waves lapping softly at the shore.

Even after a few measly hours of sleep, I felt refreshed—truly and thoroughly invigorated. Sometimes, a person needed the emotional release of a good cry to be able to breathe again, and now, as I sucked in a slow, deep breath, I was comforted by the feel of cool air filling my lungs, tinted by that same salty scent and nothing else—not worry or sadness or hurt. For now, it felt good. I felt good.

The sun had only just risen, barely peeking its head over the horizon, so I didn’t think anyone else would be awake, but my stomach growled and gnawed at my hollow insides.

Bracing myself, I threw the blanket off and darted for my clothing to pull on my new blouse and trousers. Iaso had bought them for me yesterday, or rather, Wryn did, and they fit like a glove. I wasn’t used to wearing pants, and I still preferred dresses, but I found riding in them to be much more comfortable.

I tucked the shirt in and slid the belt on before facing the mirror, wincing at my reflection. I may have felt refreshed, but my hair was wildly knotted, and dark circles had settled under my eyes.

Sitting at the base of mirror, I crossed my legs and began the strenuous task of braiding this much hair. The longer it got, the longer it took me to braid, but I loved its length; it made me feel feminine, so I didn’t mind the burning in my arms much. It was a necessary price to be paid—one all women shared and understood.

A smile tugged at my lips. I liked any connection to the women around and before me. It felt special, like I knew a piece of them, and they knew a piece of me.

Once I was finished, I stood and gave myself a once over before my stomach growled again.

“All right,” I whispered as I twisted the doorknob and peeked into the hallway, glancing up and down. It was silent, all the doors closed.

I wasn’t a captive, so why did I feel like one as I stepped out and pulled my door shut?

I briefly studied each door as I passed, like they would somehow tell me who slept inside. They were old and wooden, each one showing signs of age and care. The doorknobs were brass, clearly polished as they hadn’t tarnished. Lifting my eyes, I found naught a cobweb or speck of dust along the walls, and the floors were equally as kempt.

Whoever owned the inn must have loved it dearly.

At the end of the hallway, I descended the staircase wearily, unsure who or what I’d find, but none of my sneaking could have hidden the loud grumble from my stomach when the smell of baking bread reached my nose.

I paused, my foot mid-step and hand on the rail, to inhale deeply. A hint of something sweet undercut the scent, and I could’ve moaned—blueberry bread. Opening my eyes, I darted down the stairs and around the corner.

Off the side of the main entrance, a curtain wall had been pulled back and tied open to reveal a breakfast room with a long table, topped with an assortment of food—fruits, rolls, nuts, even eggs and a few fresh vegetables I didn’t recognize.

Good Goddess, how many patrons did they have here? There had to be enough to feed a small army.

A short, elderly woman with graying hair stepped into view then, carrying a silver tray of those blueberry muffins I’d been smelling.

I smiled and strolled forward. “Good morning.”

She gasped and swiveled, the tray wobbling in her hands. I jerked forward and caught her elbow with one hand and the bottom of the tray with the other. One muffin managed to roll onto the nearby table with a soft thump, and we both looked at it before chuckling.

“Thank you, deary,” she said and turned to slide the tray onto the table.

“Don’t thank me. I nearly made you drop the entire tray.” I picked up the fallen pastry, inspecting it for damage or dirt. It seemed fine enough, so I blew it off and took a bite. My eyes widened with a dramatic moan as I chewed slowly. “And what a travesty that would have been. My Goddess, these are phenomenal.”

When she peeked over her shoulder, her eyes were unnervingly green—shining like they were lit with a stray beam of sunlight. “That is why I thanked you.”

My brows furrowed, my mouth opening to say something, although I didn’t know what, when a voice behind me spoke first.

“Good morning.”

I swiveled to find a tall man with long white hair, braided back just as mine was, and tan, wrinkled skin, smile lines deepening around his eyes as he grinned at me.

“Long red hair and a face full of freckles…” He tapped his forefinger on his chin. “Elora?”

My head tilted to the side, and I studied him in return. His eyes were so…silver, metallic but warm all the same. They weren’t the only features he shared with his son, but I already knew that based on Wryn’s sketches—frighteningly accurate, it seemed.

A smirk curved my lips, and I cocked an eyebrow. “Alden?”

“That’d be me.” He laughed and stepped closer to stick a hand out to me. I smiled and slid mine into his, giving his hand a quick shake. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

It occurred to me then: Alden, Wryn’s father, recognized me on description alone, which meant Wryn told him of me—perhaps even showed him a sketch too.

My cheeks burned, and I swallowed hard, pulling my hand back and turning to the multitude of food.

No one in my family would have recognized Wryn had they seen him one random morning.

My heart sank.

That wasn’t true. They most definitely would have. They all would have recognized him as the King of Ravaryn. If I had told them, told anyone of my mysterious Fae friend, of his silver eyes and towering height, then maybe I would have been warned. Maybe none of this would have happened.

Heat deepened in my cheeks at how foolish I’d been. I had wanted to keep Wryn all to myself, my sweet secret, and he knew that. He had to have known if I told anyone of him, he’d have been exposed.

Had he wanted me to tell someone? Or did he know I wouldn’t? What did he want?

Alden had taken his food outside to eat on the beach, and the baker had disappeared moments after Alden, so I was left to my own thoughts for the rest of breakfast, allowing those questions, so simple and seemingly trivial, to consume every minute.

Why had he done any of this?