35. Elzora
35
ELZORA
T he mirror before me ripples with an iridescent, golden sheen, my anxiety distorting the reflection.
I press my hands against my stomach, trying to calm down the tightening knot, trying to ease my pain.
“I feel sick,” I whisper, looking down at the floor. My toes peek out from under the pool of my dress, and the knot in my stomach tightens with each passing breath.
The wooden flooring beneath my dress pulses with the magicae of the house as if that, too, is offering me comfort today.
I only slightly hate the fact that I need to wear heels to complete my outfit. Thankfully, Owlyn has woven a charm into the sole of the heels that should keep me steady—no stumbling, no tripping, and absolutely no falling over.
I’ll look like a graceful ballerina—or you know, at least have the balance of one. Or at least, that’s what she promised.
It doesn’t stop my stomach from churning, but at least I won’t fall flat on my face in front of the entire magicael world.
All I need to worry about now is the ache of my feet after being thrust into the spotlight all day. Unless she’s got a spell for that, too.
I’m not wearing my glasses, instead forced to rely on contact lenses, as they’d apparently ruin the aesthetic. I didn’t argue, no matter how much I wanted to. Seeing clearly is better than not seeing at all—even if I hate the feel of lenses in my eyes.
“You’re fucking beautiful.” Etrix’s voice cuts through my spiral of anxiety, his own rough with emotion.
His reflection appears behind mine in the mirror, and the air around him shimmers with barely contained light magicae, his happiness manifesting through our bond.
He gives me an appreciative whistle, causing me to laugh. “I don’t think we paid my aunt nearly enough for this dress.”
As much as I hate to dress up formally, I can’t argue with Etrix’s assessment. Owlyn has outdone herself with this garment, and I love it so much.
The deep crimson fabric seems to absorb and reflect light in impossible ways, golden highlights shimmer across the bodice and train.
My hair falls in perfect ringlets, pinned just enough to frame my face while letting the curls cascade down my back.
Every piece of gold jewellery I wear seems to sing with pure power—mine, I think. But especially the tiara—my mum’s crown that my magicae recognises as our birthright.
There’s a special feeling knowing that this is something my mum owned—something she loved.
My mum . The one who wanted me. The one who would have loved me. The thought still aches, but it’s a cleaner pain now that I have Anomus, my dad, to help bridge this gap.
It’s helped me so much more than I could have thought.
“I was told it was quite expensive,” I say, turning to face Etrix properly. My breath catches at the sight of him.
Eirik and Etrix have identical suits for today, some kind of rude message towards their dad that they’re united. I personally worry that they’re taunting him and that Etonik’s going to give just as toxic a reaction towards Etrix. Neither man cared for my protest.
But I’m not lying when I say that he’s beautiful.
The suit clings to his body, and I can admire how well Owlyn has his muscular frame down and how she knows the best ways to style him.
She absolutely won’t ogle her nephew the way I am… but she’s extremely talented, and I know she’ll want her work to be appreciated.
“Appreciated, huh?” Etrix teases, waggling his brows at me.
I giggle, letting my eyes continue to rake over his body. The white shirt is barely visible under the tailored jacket, and the entire suit is so sharp and crisp.
Like me, he’s got gold accents in the suit—around the cuffs, and the breast pocket, along with a golden square handkerchief.
His chocolate brown hair is styled with what might be product or might be magicae—knowing Owlyn, probably both.
The slight heel of his dress shoes puts him even further above my height than usual, but the way he looks at me makes me feel ten feet tall.
He’s truly striking, and I have no doubt the crowd is going to appreciate him.
“Thanks, princess, but I have nothing on you.”
“Take the compliment, E,” I say, noting how his eyes rake over my own dress. “You look gorgeous.”
His pale amber eyes meet mine, and he manipulates the light around us to create a soft, intimate glow.
“Are you ready?” he asks, voice gentle.
I move around to hide the trembles in my hands, legs, arms—honestly, my eyes are probably shaking, too. I’m terrified, but I know that fear isn’t going to change a thing.
“Nearly,” I manage, proud that my voice remains steady even as my hands shake.
I sit down on the edge of the bed, pulling over my silver strap heels. Etrix crouches down at my feet and secures the strap around my ankle, the air crackling between us as his hand trails up my leg.
Goosebumps cover my skin at the feel, butterflies fluttering in my tummy. My anxiety fades as I enter a state of calm. I can do this—we’re going to be fine.
“Thank you,” I murmur as he rises to his feet. I take his offered hand, letting him pull me to my feet, and I’ve gained a good four or five inches.
The top of my head now reaches the middle of Etrix’s face, and I can see his pale amber eyes so much clearer.
They’re sparkling in the light he’s manipulating.
I tug him closer by his tie—silky smooth against my fingers—and pull him down for a kiss.
It’s brief, but I feel our combined magicae surge in response, the room blazing with his light before he gets it under control.
When I pull back, the longing on his face makes me want to forget all about court appearances and royal obligations.
And I absolutely want to forget the panic, danger, and dramatics that are going to take place.
“When this is over,” he says, voice rough, “I want to take you on a proper date.”
“Really?” The word comes out more breathless than I intended, and he beams at me.
He nods, a faint blush colouring his cheeks. “You deserve to be spoilt like the princess you are—doted on, courted, adored. I love that our bond is truly complete, but part of me feels guilty that you didn’t get any of the… well, wooing.”
Wooing? His cheeks have a rosy red blush, and I can’t help but want to squeeze him and go ‘aw’ repeatedly.
I won’t since he’d not be impressed with me, but I want to.
“I love you,” I say instead.
He grins, clearly aware of where my thoughts went. “I love you more. Now—are you ready to go? We’ll grab my brother and go to the castle. I don’t want to be too late.”
I nod and let him take my hand, beaming us both downstairs to where Eirik is pacing in the living room.
His steps carve invisible lines of agitated magicae into the floor, the strong affinities my elemental witch has with earth, air, water, and fire are making their appearance now.
I don’t know what he’s doing, but he doesn’t stop even after noticing our presence and holds up two fingers without breaking stride.
I feel a weird distance in our bond, and his eyes seem unfocused. I probe at his mental shields, unable to hold back my curiosity, and the answer is clear.
He’s talking to someone across the mind link.
Oops.
“My dad, probably,” Etrix murmurs, his breath tickling my ear. “The others are already gone, but I promised we’d take at least one photo.”
His tone suggests the promise wasn’t entirely his idea.
“You promised?” I ask, turning to study his face. “Or you want to take one?”
His answering sneer is so perfectly Etrix that I can’t help but laugh.
Rather than dignifying my question with a response, he grabs Necos’s camera, setting up the tripod in the centre of the room. It was already on, so it was clearly set up before I came down.
Eirik moves to my side, breaking from his mental conversation, and places his hand at the small of my back. Etrix joins me on the right, his presence hot and comforting.
The two brothers smile at the camera, and I try to keep my eyes open as the flash goes off.
“Perfect,” Eirik says, spinning me to face him. His icy grey eyes are alight with intensity. “You look perfect, Zoe.”
“Thank you,” I murmur, leaning into his touch. The tension in his usually controlled frame worries me. “Is everything okay?”
He nods, but the motion is sharp and empty. “Yes. Don’t worry, my love, your dad is just very impatient, and I think he’s nervous about being excluded from this all.”
“He’s not coming?” The words stick in my throat, heavy with an emotion I wasn’t expecting.
Why does that hurt ?
I should be happy that my dad is staying out of the fray of danger, that someone will be there to make sure my mates and I get back and able to help should anything go wrong.
Instead, there’s a hollow ache in my chest, adding to the feeling of dread.
“There’s no way he could stay there undetected,” Etrix explains, his voice gentler than usual. “There will be numerous wards set to detect anyone who shouldn’t be there—and your dad, well, he’s the top of the most wanted list.”
“I understand.” And I do—even if it hurts.
“We won’t let anything happen to you.” Eirik cups my cheek, his thumb tracing my cheekbone.
The warmth of his touch grounds me, even as my chest tightens with an overwhelming wave of emotion.
I’m anxious, distressed, and so ready for this all to be over.
“Not just because your dad would kill us,” Etrix teases, coming to stand at my back, his hands holding my hips tightly. “But because we all love you.”
“I know you do,” I say, my voice steady and sure. I meet Etrix’s gaze, then Eirik’s, and smile. “I love you both so much.”
Etrix’s lips curl into that dangerous smile I shouldn’t love so much but do. “You’re such a good girl, princess.”
“We should go,” Eirik says, heaving a sigh. “Aria will be waiting, and we don’t want to ruffle any feathers today. We stay together, we see what’s really happening in that nest of vipers.”
“Vipers?” Etrix asks with a tone that could cut glass and a smirk. “Are you going to be nice to Mummy Dearest today?”
“Not today, boys,” I plead.
“Not today,” they echo. I don’t know if they think I’m blind, but I don’t miss the argumentative looks they send to each other.
Eirik opens up a portal, and my legs tremble as I see inside the castle’s familiar grand entrance hall. The only real difference from the last time I was here is that there’s no other people. It’s quieter, the air still and almost empty in magicae.
It’s a nice feeling, really, considering how dark and unwelcome this place usually feels.
“You good?” Eirik’s question rumbles through the silence as he seals the portal behind us.
My heels click on the marble floor that feels too loud in the weighted silence. The emptiness feels deliberate—staged—another piece in a game I’m still not sure how to play.
“Where will Aria and her men be?” I ask, my teeth chattering with the sudden chill.
“Are you cold, princess?” Etrix asks.
“A little,” I admit.
I flash Eirik a smile as he uses his fire magicae to surround me in a bubble of warmth. The chill fades, and I relax as we walk through the castle.
I don’t feel watched or uncomfortable, not like the last time. There’s no eyes on me, no guards or people just leering because they can.
“They’ll be in the greeting lounge,” Eirik says, his hand finding mine. His tone carries an edge that makes me glance at him in surprise. “Hopefully they’re ready to go now.”
I glance at him in shock, not sure why he’s being so… mean .
“Eirik has mummy issues,” Etrix teases, drawing both me and Eirik into his mind link. “But I’m sure if you ask nicely, he’ll be kind.”
“Fuck off, brother,” Eirik says, pulling away from the mind link.
I hold in my reply as we round the corner into what must be the greeting lounge. Even with my limited exposure to royal architecture, I can tell that this room was designed to intimidate.
Soaring ceilings disappear into carefully crafted shadows, while gilt-edged mirrors multiply the space into infinity.
The furniture manages to look both obscenely expensive and utterly uncomfortable—from dominating function in true royal fashion.
Aria rises from her seat, her movement so graceful, so dainty. Her magicae clings to her skin, and it’s clear we’re not the only ones who are unsettled about what today is going to hold.
Titus hovers at her left shoulder, not wanting to get too far from them. Two other, unfamiliar men—both radiating fire magicae so potent it makes the air shimmer—flank her with military precision.
They’re all wearing identical black suits with red accents, and the style is more traditional than that of my own men’s—less sharp, less stylish.
“Oh, wow,” Aria exclaims, moving past her men to come greet me. Like me, she’s wearing a beautiful dress, although hers is red with golden accents. Her eyes are bright, her hair curled atop her head, and there’s such a positive energy surrounding her.
“You look lovely,” I murmur as she reaches forward to take my hands into hers. Eirik and Etrix hover close at my back, but there’s no need when Aria’s hands are this gentle, this warm.
For a moment, I see double. Aria as she is now, dressed in red and gold, and another figure superimposed over her—younger, softer, running with a woman who’s wearing a gold dress.
The vision fades before I can grasp it, leaving behind a hollow ache where understanding should be.
“Nothing compared to you in this gown,” she says, admiring my dress with fascination. There’s a play of light across the enchanted fabric, and I’m reassured that it looks good enough to fit in.
“My auntie and mum made it,” Etrix says, inclining his head with careful politeness. “My anima nexum is correct, Queen Aria, you look lovely.”
“Don’t be silly, Etrix, you know we don’t stand on formality between family,” she says before gently tugging me forward. “I know you’ve not yet met all of my bonds, Zoe, but you remember Titus, I’m sure?”
“Yes, of course,” I say. He meets my gaze with eyes like frozen amber, not bothering to react in any expression of warmth.
I smile, trying to hide my unease.
“This is Azar,” she says, gesturing to the dark-haired man with a piercing gaze. His primordium is strong, and I try to return his warm smile. “And this is Eoson.”
Eoson’s proximity to Aria speaks volumes about their bond hierarchy, but it’s his restless fingers that draw my attention. They twitch with barely contained energy, and threads of fire magicae leak from his skin.
My body tenses, and I don’t know if he’s a threat or if his reaction is on the defensive, too.
“It’s an honour to meet you, Princess Myxere,” Azar says, inclining his head with a formality that feels personal rather than political. “We’ve heard so much about you.”
A shiver races down my spine, and everyone notices. Oops.
“I’m sure you have,” Eirik drawls, and both Aria and I turn to look at him in surprise.
He’s in the corner of the room, drinking from a crystal glass. The liquid is amber—is he drinking alcohol?
Surely not.
But the pretence of being relaxed doesn’t fool me—his magicae coils beneath the surface, ready to explode into action at a moment’s notice.
“I have,” Azar confirms, seemingly immune to Eirik’s hostility. His eyes take on a distant quality “I knew your mother when she was younger.”
“You did?” The words burst from me before I can contain them, eager and raw.
Etrix clears his throat in warning, and I hang my head, worried I did something wrong or said something I shouldn’t have.
Should I have been less eager?
Less excited?
Did I just give away a weakness I should’ve tried harder to hide?
There’s a flash of sadness in Azar’s aura, one quickly masked by indifference. My magicae prickles, wanting to press, to know more.
“We both did,” Eoson says dryly. “Azar’s my cousin, and we’re related to your mum by marriage.”
“Kind of,” Azar amends, looking at Eoson warily. “Perhaps we could discuss it sometime... when the situation is less fraught.”
“Perhaps,” Etrix says, but his tone suggests hell will freeze first. “However, since we’re all assembled...”
“I don’t think today is the time,” Aria interrupts, fixing her men with a stern look, and I know they’re likely being admonished silently. “Titus, could you grab the cuffs that Etonik set out for Eirik and Etrix please?”
“Fuck that shit,” Etrix says, shaking his head, light magicae spitting out from his fingertips. “I’m sure Dear Old Dad laced them with something special just for me. Poison, binding agents, tracking spells—take your pick.”
Aria’s hands tremble in mine for just a moment before she withdraws, smoothing her dress in a gesture that seems more habit than necessity.
There’s a slight wavering in my chest like the ground isn’t quite steady under my feet.
The movement triggers another flash of double vision—young Aria spinning in a different dress, laughing with a blonde-haired woman her age. Their magicae twists together, forming patterns that seem to hum against my skin. My chest tightens with the weight of the memory, even though I know it isn’t mine.
Why am I seeing this?
The double vision stops as suddenly as it began, and I let out a shuddering breath at the respite.
I catch Eoson watching me with an unreadable expression. When our eyes meet, he gives me the barest of nods, a hint of something in his gaze.
In that gesture, it’s clear that they know something. Something they can’t or won’t say.
They’re doing something. I can feel this, feel it in their souls, read it from their thoughts.
But the secret they have, their connections to everything, is all wrapped up in their mind, protected from anyone who shouldn’t be overhearing.
“Here they are,” Titus says, his voice deeper than I remember. Then again—have I ever actually heard him speak? I don’t know .
He comes back into the room, clutching two black, satin boxes that hum with contained power.
He hands one to Eirik, who takes it without hesitation before moving over to where Etrix is hovering behind me.
My light witch mate refuses to take it, refuses to look at it, and I gently hold my hand out. Titus hesitates.
“I’ll take it.”
“Are you certain?” Titus asks, his usual coldness tinged with something that might be concern. His magicae brushes against mine, but I recoil away.
I nod, accepting the box. My magicae surges through it, testing, tasting, searching for threats. The magicae within responds so easily. There’s power here, yes, but it’s familiar.
Familial—for Eirik and Etrix, at least.
“They’re his,” I mention, turning to Etrix. “They’re safe—no poison, spell, or binding on it. Just a trace of his magicae.”
Etrix gags, and I note Eirik rolling his eyes in the corner as he puts his on.
“Do you trust her more than you distrust your father?” Azar’s question cuts through the room, a dark hint to his words.
Etrix’s answering smirk blazes with bitter light. “Trusting Zoe isn’t the issue, Azar. It’s the simple matter of me wanting fuck all to do with him or any gift he thinks he could give. That man has tried to kill me more times than I can count, and I am not fucking wearing a homage to him.”
I flinch again, Aria’s hand reaching for mine to try and offer some comfort.
I’m slammed with another vision, this one bringing vertigo with it. The floor seems to tilt, my stomach swaying.
Images cascade through my mind, through the physical connection between Aria and I.
A myriad of stolen moments, secret meetings, magicae woven in patterns that feel familiar but just out of reach.
My heart pounds with emotions that don’t feel entirely my own, and I wonder if I’m feeling an echo of Aria herself.
“Did the last murder attempt rattle you this much?” Azar taunts, pulling me out of that vision and back into reality.
The temperature in the room plummets as my magicae responds to the threat against my mate.
My body freezes, and I glower at the dark-haired man. “Excuse me?”
“Okay, let’s not do this today,” Aria pleads, her own fire magicae rising to try and moderate the temperature. “It’s going to be hard enough keeping him in line—please don’t make me play peacekeeper here, too.”
“Keeping who in line, Aria?” Eirik’s demand crackles with barely contained fire.
She meets his gaze steadily. “Clearly, your dad, Rik. He’s a little… worked up over this event, and it’s been hard keeping him from doing anything stupid.”
“Stupid is my dad’s middle name,” Etrix drawls, though the light around him pulses with suppressed rage. “Well, that or micro-”
Eoson and Azar laugh, clearly knowing what Etrix was going to say. Even Titus has a fleeting smile, despite my frown.
Aria’s cheeks darken as she groans, shaking her head at us all.
“We should prepare to leave,” Aria says, smoothing her dress again. “Etonik will be expecting us soon.”
“You have her spirit, you know,” Azar says suddenly, his gaze fixed on my face with an uncomfortable intensity. “Exsern’s. The same sharp mind, the same logical thoughts. The way you stand, the way you gravitate towards the royal brothers… you’re so much like her, it’s scary.”
Eirik’s glass shatters in his grip, amber liquid and crystal shards scattering across the floor. Nobody jumps at the sound, but the air thickens with elemental magicae as he draws power from the very stones beneath our feet.
“How fascinating,” Eirik drawls, his voice deadly calm even as his magicae crackles around him. “That you’d notice such a detail about my mate’s mother, to then notice it about my mate, too. Almost as if you’d been watching… waiting.”
Etrix’s hand tightens on my waist, but his voice is light when he speaks. “You seem to have known our mate’s mother quite well, Azar. Strange, how you’re now here, in my dad’s castle, with his wife in your bond.”
“It is, isn’t it?” Eoson says with a smile so empty of warmth that it actually causes me to shiver. “But my cousin is right, Elzora. Your mum, Exsern, she was a true wonder. Even before she was noticed by the royal brothers… by Caedos, and, well, I’m sure you all know.”
He deliberately trails off, not giving us that information.
“Know what?” I press, my eyes darting between him and his cousin. Their minds remain locked tight, and it frustrates me.
Titus clears his throat as the tension in the room builds. I feel the undercurrents of grief, determination, and... anticipation? From all of them.
They’re planning something, and it’s not a good feeling to know this when there’s something much bigger, much more time-constricting, that needs handled.
It’s terrifying, really. Why does everyone around me have secrets that hurt? Secrets that always lead to something dangerous for me and my men?
It’s a constant cycle of half-truths and dangers, everything circling just beyond my understanding.
Why do they all speak in riddles that always end in blood?
“Perhaps this isn’t the time for reminiscing,” Aria says softly, but there’s steel beneath her gentle tone, and I know that there’s no chance I can push for more. “We need to focus on getting through today.”
“Everyone is always avoiding sharing the truth they have,” I say, and my tone truly is soft, lacking any bite or pointedness that the others have. “But then spend their time hiding in the shadows as I deal with the consequences of the secrets.”
The room stills. Even the magicae in the castle seems to hold its breath, waiting.
Eoson’s face hardens, and Titus’s eyes widen, but it’s Azar who has the most dramatic reaction. He grins and claps his hands.
“Fuck, you’re so much like her,” he breathes, magicae pulsing with such joy. “You’re so much like your mum, Zoe. She had the same way of cutting through the bullshit, not caring about the politics or the pretences. She’d be so proud of you, so fucking proud of the woman you are.”
The knot in my tummy can’t get any bigger or I think I’d explode. The same goes with the one in my throat.
I blink back tears, not sure how to reply or how to feel.
“Well, it’s a shame she’s dead, then, isn’t it?” Eirik snarls. “Let’s stop bringing it up when my mate is the one feeling all the pain.”
I flinch, not from fear but from how accurately they strike. Both Eirik and Etrix immediately respond through our bond—Etrix flooding me with warm light while Eirik’s earth grounds me, his air cools me, and his water soothes me.
“We need to leave,” Aria says decisively. “The court awaits.”
“Of course,” Azar agrees with suspicious smoothness. “Shall we arrange ourselves appropriately for arrival? The King will expect a certain... presentation, I’m sure.”
Eirik moves to my side, his magicae still unsettled but his exterior calm.
“Indeed,” Etrix says. “Proper protocol must be observed.”
The way he says it makes it clear exactly what he thinks of proper protocol.
“Zoe belongs between her mates,” Titus says, his tone uncharacteristically soft. “It’s the safest position.”
“Yes, she should,” Aria says as her mates move into position around her. “Remember, all eyes will be on us today. We must present a united front.”
The double meaning in her words isn’t lost on any of us.
Whatever game is being played, whatever secrets are being kept, we’re all pieces on the same board.
As my mates move to flank me, their magicae weaving with mine in familiar patterns, I can’t help but wonder how many more secrets will have to shatter before we reach the absolute truth.
I straighten my spine, let my magicae settle, and hold tight to Eirik and Etrix.
Let them continue to lie—the truth will come eventually.