Chapter 10
Hades
I hadn't meant to look for her.
The palace was large enough that I could have left her to wander without crossing paths. But some part of me... needed to know where she was. That she hadn't run. That she was still here.
The sound of her soft footsteps led me to the library. I stepped inside, the scent of parchment and old ink greeting me like an old friend.
And there she was.
Elara stood in a shaft of light beneath the skylight, her head tilted slightly as she traced the spine of a book. The navy dress I'd chosen for her clung in all the right ways, the silver embroidery catching the sunlight like threads of starlight.
For a moment, I simply watched her.
She didn't know what she was wearing—had no idea that the gown was stitched from fabric spun in the lower realms, a rarity even in my own halls. It was a gift reserved for those I... favored. And yet, she wore it as if it were nothing but cloth, not the silent declaration I had intended.
Her beauty was not the polished perfection of court women, who painted themselves to look like delicate porcelain. Hers was quieter, harder to ignore. The kind of beauty that lingered in the mind long after the first glance.
I reminded myself of what she was: the mortal I had taken from the brink of death. The girl meant to be nothing more than a pawn in another man's ambition.
But something in me—something old and inconvenient—bristled at that thought.
She turned at the sound of my approach, her eyes widening just slightly when they met mine. Not with awe. Not with relief. With wariness.
Good. She should be wary.
"You found the library," I said, my voice low enough that it didn't echo in the vast room.
Her hands smoothed over the skirt of the gown, a subtle, defensive movement. "It's... beautiful," she said, her tone careful, as though she feared her words might be wrong.
I stepped closer, my gaze holding hers. "You may come here whenever you wish. No one will disturb you here."
Her lips parted in surprise, but she didn't thank me. Instead, she nodded once, almost imperceptibly.
It was strange—this feeling. Not desire, though it was there. Not possession, though I had claimed her life the moment I took her from that clearing.
No. It was something else. Something I had no name for, but knew I would not be able to ignore.