38 || Forgiven Fractures
The hollow halls of the castle echoed with Ilyana's heartbeat as she made her way to her father's office. Silence stirred around her, as if chaos lurked in the cracks of peace waiting for the chance to unveil itself.
With the help of Clove, she had successfully ordered the army to search for Prince Damian, starting with the main city and towns of the island while leaving the Lost Abyss for last. She had leapt at the chance to assist the princess, like she was trying her best to make it up to her.
Like a small favour would staunch the bloodflow from the gaping wound of her sister's murder.
That's where the captain was now — organising the groups that the soldiers would be split up into — instead of trailing behind her at a distance.
For once, Ilyana couldn't figure out whether or not she enjoyed the loneliness that followed her like a shadow. Growing up, she had nobody to turn to but her father. Maids and guards hovered in every part of her life, but they hadn't filled the void of the family she had lost.
Now, she was about to lose everyone all over again.
Her hand froze before it could knock on the office door.
After everything that had happened, she couldn't lose her father too.
Ilyana knew he had her well-being and safety at heart, but it couldn't come at the cost of fractured secrets between them.
With Viviana dead once more and Clove's newest betrayal another wound she couldn't heal, he was all she had left.
The princess's knock echoed around her and a voice replied moments later, granting her permission to enter.
Her father's office was simple compared to the finery of the rest of the castle.
While the rooms that guests to Celnaer often visited were bedecked with meticulous furniture from the best craftsmanship from several continents around, the king's working space only had the bare necessities.
It was a room not meant to be seen by outsiders.
"Father," she greeted, closing the door behind her.
"Ilyana," King Mortas stood from his chair, papers sticking to his arms from where they had been pressed against them for so long. The creases under his eyes had become several shades darker and the lines etched into his skin were more present than they had ever been.
"You seem... busy with preparations." From the documents Ilyana could see, there were forms for food menus, briefs for event planners, and multiple invitation lists. She couldn't help but wonder if she would find Silas's name on one of them.
"There's a lot to prepare for," he replied with a chuckle. With a quick step around his desk, he pulled his daughter into a hug — one that she couldn't resist melting into the warmth of. The familiar comfort had soothed her many a time.
"We need to talk. About everything."
"I feared you might say that." Her father's hand cupped her cheek before he returned to his seat.
"What is there to be afraid of? We're a team, right?
We're in this together." The silence of his response made her heart fissure.
He was too busy, appearing as if he was contemplating his answer.
Ilyana grabbed a chair from the side of the room and placed it opposite her father.
"Let's start simple before I dig into the real matters here.
This ball, it's a rather sudden idea. The people aren't happy about it. "
If their yells about the wall around the island weren't bad enough, hosting a lavish ball for the lords and ladies of Wyrith only reverberated the sound into a deafening cacophony.
"Everyone is restless for one reason or another. People are dying, trading routes have been shut down, people can't leave the island. This is an event to settle their minds," the king explained.
"And there aren't any ulterior motives behind this? No hidden guest I should be aware of?" As soon as the corners of her father's lips twisted into a frown, she knew the fracture between them had grown too big.
"No, there isn't. I don't-"
"I know you've invited Silas — the man that we were planning to interrogate next for answers," she revealed with trembling hands. "Why don't you trust me anymore?"
"Ilyana." King Mortas grabbed her fingers and held them tightly.
"It's not that I don't trust you. I think I've shown you plenty of times that I know you can handle yourself.
But I still want to keep you safe. You're still one of the factors that brought this curse into play, and I don't know if you're going to be a target of Silas's now that Morana The Cursed is dead. I can handle this myself."
"So, that's it? What am I meant to do?" Ilyana bit her tongue, the pain fuelling her frustration.
"You keep yourself out of harm's way, that's what."
There was no way she was being dropped out of the plans to save the island because of a mere safety issue. There were thousands of lives at stake and now she was supposed to sit around doing nothing.
"How you going to get information out of him? What are you planning to say?" She crossed her arms, retreating from her father's assuring hold.
"I've known Silas longer than you've been alive. Before he became a crime lord and turned the Wyrith's prison into a city, we used to be civil. We'll talk like we used to."
Like we used to. Those were the words that King Matthian had said were on Silas's invitation.
Ilyana glanced around the room, trying to figure out if there was anywhere she could hide herself.
The Fireborn king would somehow be listening in and, despite the fact that she didn't want him dictating her every move, she wanted to know what was going on too.
Hiding amongst the curtains tied up at the sides of the window would be too obvious — one movement and her cover would be blown.
The desk was out of the question, which only left the filing cabinets and drawers — none of which would be big enough to fit her.
She needed to figure something out.
"It's going to be okay, Ilyana," her father continued. "The island will be right again soon enough."
"I hope you're right about that." She thumbed the frayed skin around her nails, ignoring the urge to pull at it. "Father, about Vivi."
"Yes, your sister." His shoulders sank, as if they were weighed down by the mere thought of her. "I don't know what more I have to say about her, aside from what I've told you already."
"You don't know?" Ilyana had to resist the scoff that built in her throat.
"You've kept me in the dark on so many things.
I had to find out her body was stolen by Silas and his lackeys through King Matthian when I should have heard it from you.
There was plenty of time to tell me, and yet you didn't."
"You were grieving for your twin all over again. I didn't want to make things worse for you by adding to your distress."
"Were you planning to tell me at all?" If she were in his position, she didn't know what she would have done. She doubted she would ease someone's suffering by keeping a large piece of information from them, but she didn't think she would want them to feel any more pain either.
"Of course, I would have." King Mortas sighed, running a hand over his face. "I hate this rift that's grown between us."
"Me too." The princess's voice was barely a whisper. "Can we start again and go back to the way we were before? Without any secrets between us."
"I would like that." He stood once more and tucked her into his arms. "Despite everything that's going on, you're still my daughter. You are what I care about most in this world and I can't lose you."
Ilyana's heart lurched as she buried her face in his chest. "I love you." This is what she needed — a path on the road to recovery for their relationship. Something to fill the hole of her loneliness.
"I still can't let you join the conversation with Silas as it's too dangerous, but I'll tell you everything that happened after the ball. I won't leave out any details," he promised.
"Thank you." It wasn't the justice she wanted for the cruel man who had hidden her sister from her for all those years, but it was enough for now. At least to keep the island safe. "I suppose I need to keep everyone calm and entertained at the ball anyway."
"Such is the duty of a royal, unfortunately." He pressed a kiss into the crown of her head and pulled away. "Go and get some rest. You'll need all the energy you can get for tomorrow."