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

Chapter 16

The departure for Draig Hearth had been sudden, a day earlier than I’d expected, and the journey uncomfortably quiet, Iaso and Ewan the only ones to speak.

They would occasionally say a few words to Wryn or me, but we mostly shrugged and nodded, both content with the silence.

Well, content was a strong word.

He was avoiding me. He told me as much, and his words had stung. He regretted taking me as much as I regretted being taken.

Something about knowing the feeling was mutual hurt more than it should have. I couldn’t blame him, though, I supposed. I’d avoided him too during our travels to Nautia. I deserved the same.

Or that was what I told myself—until I realized I didn’t.

He took me, not the other way around. If he hadn’t wanted to speak to me, then he should have left me in Auryna like any sane person would.

Who even was this person? I didn’t know him. He wasn’t the same kind artist who had filled my head with laughs and dreams. He was not the man who wrote me all those letters, and he certainly wasn’t the man who shoved me against the wall.

This man didn’t move with the same ease. He didn’t smile and tease.

He didn’t call me sun ray. He didn’t even call me Elora. He didn’t call me anything, because he didn’t speak to me.

“Yes,” was the last word he’d said to me.

Yes, I’m a coward.

Yes, I’m an asshole.

Yes, I deserve a huge kick in the ass.

Any of those would have been much more adequate.

I had stewed over this thought for the past full day while we rode, allowing the hurt to fester into anger. He had no right to avoid me.

It didn’t matter that he was a king or a coward. He was the reason I wasn’t home. He was the reason I was forced to his side. He didn’t get to drag me away, then ignore me like I was some nuisance.

By the time Draig Hearth came into view, my grip was tight on the reins, my knuckles white and jaw clenched. Under normal circumstances, I was sure I would have been enamored by the grandeur of it all, but at this moment, all I saw while looking at this giant fucking castle was the lack of my own home.

When Wryn led us into the bailey, a few grooms came to assist with the horses, and I jumped down and handed the reins off without hesitation. I didn’t want to speak to Wryn in front of the others, so I hadn’t breathed a word about anything, and holding it all in had been difficult.

That anger, every damned word he would hear, had grown and grown until my skin felt tight, like if I didn’t say them, or at the very least scream at the top of my lungs, I was going to explode.

Iaso strolled over, a smile on her face, and stuck an elbow out. “Ready to see your room?”

“Yes.” I turned to Wryn, and he caught my gaze. He started to walk away but stopped dead in his tracks when I said, “But I would like Wryn to escort me.”

His chest rose and fell, his spine rod straight and muscles tense. He turned back to us stiffly, seemingly resisting whatever invisible force pulled him in my direction.

Iaso glanced to him, and he nodded once.

“Well, all right, then.” She chuckled and stuck out her other elbow. “Ewan, escort me to mine?”

He grinned. “Of course.”

They left, arm in arm, as Wryn waited for me to join his side. He didn’t offer an arm or even a word in response, and I didn’t push. I waited, biding my time while he led me inside.

My feet slowed, my eyes following the grand staircase upwards to find ancient wood carved with dragons, flames, and skies, all flickering with candlelight.

He continued up the stairs, and I sighed, shuffling after him. We took a left and followed the hallway down to an inconspicuous door. He opened it before stepping to the side and motioning forward, but a dark spiral staircase was all that was inside.

I slowly shifted my gaze to him, my eyes narrow. “No.”

“Yes.”

“No,” I bit out again.

He finally looked at me, his silver eyes blazing. “Yes.”

“Who are you?” I hissed, rage bubbling out of me in the form of tears.

My eyes and throat burned, and his expression somehow simultaneously softened and hardened—maybe one after the other, but it happened so quickly, I couldn’t distinguish them. Shaking my head, I clutched my skirts in a huff and began the climb. His footsteps echoed behind mine as we ascended, and I had the sudden urge to turn and push him back down them.

My thighs burned when I reached the top, my breathing labored. The door at the top was already propped open to reveal a simple room with a bed, two chairs, and a fireplace.

“This is a keep,” I breathed. He might as well have punched me in the gut. I swiveled to him, a tear sliding down my cheek, a scowl twisting my mouth. “This is a keep!”

His jaw clenched, his gaze tracking the tear as it slid down my face until it fell to the floor. “You are not a prisoner, Elora. You can come and go as you please.”

Another tear fell, and he didn’t miss it either. “Who are you?” I asked again, barely above a whisper, and staggered back until the backs of my thighs hit the bed, shaking my head. “You are a lie. Wryn is a lie.”

His fists clenched at his sides, the pitter-patter of rain filling the tense silence between us.

“I…” He started but stopped, the unfinished thought followed by the sound of footsteps. “Feel free to explore, as this is your home now too.”

My eyes snapped to him as he stepped over the threshold to the staircase, his back to me. He should have apologized. I should have said everything I wanted to for the last day. There was so much to be said, from both sides, yet nothing was being said.

We had never had a problem communicating before, but something had shifted between us. Long gone were the days of easy friendship I had come to adore, but I couldn’t understand how so much had changed.

What happened?

So much to be said, yet all I did was snatch the closest pillow and throw it as hard as I could. “Not my home.”

His next step landed hard as he stumbled when the pillow struck him in the back of the head, but he didn’t turn. He merely looked to where the small cushion lay on the step beside him and continued down without another word.

He ignored me again. He was still actively ignoring me, and not only did it enrage me, it hurt me.

My chest hurt in every way: aching, slicing, tightening. I didn’t know what I wanted or expected him to do, but not that. I wanted him to show some kind of emotion, even if it was irritation.

Why—how did he feel nothing at all, after years of friendship? He knew me so well, better than anyone, and even though he may have lied about his name and title, I felt like I knew him too.

We were friends, true friends, before he left me high and dry for six long months. He surprised me for my birthday, touched and kissed and licked me in ways no one else ever had, then disappeared for six months, only to pull this?

It made no sense at all. It was as if he couldn’t decide what he…

And then, like a lightning bolt of realization, it hit me. Wryn, sweet Wryn, had called me brave because I wore my heart on my sleeve.

Why else would he call me that if not for the fact that he didn’t—couldn’t?

Did he feel nothing, or did he feel…everything?

I heard step after step as he descended, each one fraying my nerves further and further until I couldn’t take it any longer. Before I could think better of it, I jumped up and ran to the door.

“Wryn,” I shouted.

His steps paused.

“We were friends once, right?”

I waited and waited for a response, starting to doubt he was even in the staircase any longer. Perhaps his steps ceased because he exited. Perhaps?—

“Yes,” he replied so quietly, it sounded as if only the echo of it against the stone walls reached me.

My heart lurched, my eyes darting around aimlessly. “Then, why did you take me? Why are you doing this?”

No more steps had been taken. “What is it that I’m doing, Elora?”

Heat flushed my neck and face. “What are you doing?” I repeated back at him, my eyes bulging. “What are you doing?”

I descended the staircase quickly, my heart thumping so hard, I could feel it in my throat. I nearly ran down the stairs until I saw him, eyes closed and reclining against the stone. My feet slowed before coming to a halt.

“What am I doing?” he said again, like his thoughts were merely escaping him.

“I don’t think you know what you’re doing,” I whispered. He opened his eyes, tilting his face to me. “For some unfathomable reason I don’t think I’ll ever truly know, and maybe you don’t either, you took me, and now, you have no idea what to actually do with me. Talk to me, then avoid me. Lead me to the keep, then tell me I’m not a prisoner. You have no idea what you’re doing, do you?”

His gaze, for the first time in days, roamed over my face and drank me in the way he used to. He savored every line and curve, every freckle, and it deepened the blush in my cheeks, but I didn’t look away. I couldn’t as I waited on bated breath for his next words.

“I haven’t a damned clue, sun ray.”

My jaw fell slack, my breath leaving me in a whoosh. He pushed off the wall to descend the last few steps, and I let him go.

For now.

I’m here, because he wants me here, whether he admits that to anyone, namely himself, or not.

A subtle smile curved my lips.

I had decidedif this was to be my home, I would make myself at home.

After a quick nap, of course.

The sun was still high when I woke, so I strolled down the stairs and through the halls. I supposed I should be scared or at least timid, but I felt neither. Surprisingly, I felt…welcomed.

The staff seemed utterly uninterested in me, not bothering with a second glance in my direction as I passed by, but the castle itself felt warm and homey, the floor lined with colorful rugs and candles lighting each hallway and room.

I explored the library but didn’t spend too much time there. Books weren’t my preferred form of distraction.

When I passed a dining room—large with a wall of windows overlooking the sea and a long, oak table in the center—I knew I must be getting close to what I truly sought.

I hurried to the door right past it and knocked, leaning my ear to the wood to listen. Hearing no response, I pushed the door open slowly. A wide grin spread across my face, and giddy excitement bubbled up my throat in the form of uncontrollable giggles.

The kitchen.

I stepped in and shut the door behind me, leaning on the door as I covered my mouth and studied the room. It was much more than I expected, even larger than the one Mother and I baked in, but what caught my immediate attention was the odd-looking box in the corner. My fingertips trailed along the wooden counter top as I strolled over and lifted the lid, gasping when a wave of icy air hit me.

Ice?

The inner walls of the box were frozen, the bottom packed full of ingredients: milk, eggs, fruits, vegetables, all kept fresh.

“Genius,” I mumbled under my breath. This had to be one of my favorite uses of magic I’d ever seen.

After closing it gently, I turned to the nearby cabinets and found bag after bag of flour and sugar alongside several jars of honey.

I lifted one of the jars and held it to the sunlight beaming through the window. It flooded the room with a yellow glow, and my excitement dissipated. So much honey and sugar—Godrick’s dream.

The jar clinked faintly as I set it back on the wooden shelf before closing the cabinet and turning to recline on the counter with a deep breath.

Roughly a week had passed, so they would be back home by now. Normally, we’d be having our annual night of cards, wine, and pastries. We always did when we arrived home from travel; it was our tradition. I wondered if they still played. I hoped so.

My heart ached the more I thought about them until my gaze fell to the unlit fireplace. An idea struck me, and my grin returned tenfold.

I darted out the door and straight to the library.

Parchment and quills were spread along the center of one table. I quietly pulled a chair out and took a seat to write letter after letter. I wrote one for each of them, three total, with at least a dozen discarded papers crumbled and tossed in the bin.

When I was satisfied, I smiled, feeling a flutter of nerves in my chest as I folded the letters one at a time. Standing, I searched for the closest fireplace and found one already lit.

I walked over, said the necessary words, and tossed them in, where they disappeared in a puff of black smoke.

They wouldn’t know how to write back, but at least I could talk to them when I wanted. A one way conversation was better than nothing at all. I wanted them to know I was okay and safe, that they could live without worry for me. They needed to know I loved them, regardless of how much time or mileage was between us. They were my family then, and they still were now.

Filled with a new lightness, I took a deep breath, turned, and headed back toward the kitchen, but halted when I spotted Iaso leaving her chambers with an empty bag in tow.

Biting my lip, I clasped my hands behind my back and strolled over. “Where ya going?”

She gasped and jumped, chuckling with a hand over her chest. “Good Goddess, you scared me. I’m heading for the village.”

My eyes widened, and I lifted a brow, suppressing my growing grin. I didn’t know what had gotten into me today, but after my realization with Wryn and a nap, I felt…good. More than that, I felt hopeful, and that was the best of feelings, like being washed in warm sunshine.

She eyed me knowingly. “Care to join me?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” I replied and slid my arm into hers.

She glanced down at it before a grin slowly spread across her face, her golden eyes twinkling as they met mine again. “I think we’ll be fast friends.”

“The fastest.” I nodded.

The hallways echoed our laughter as we left—a welcomed reminder of the way the hallways overflowed with it at home, but instead of nostalgia sweeping through me, a sense of belonging settled in my chest.