Chapter 53 Aurelia
Aurelia
The sea crashed far below, the wind carrying its spray up to the cliffside where Gabriel and I sat. His shoulder brushed mine, heavy and unmoving, his gaze locked on the horizon like he could hold it still by staring long enough.
Footsteps crunched behind us. Hayat.
“Aurelia,” he said, voice even but edged with something unspoken. “May I speak with you?”
“Yes, of course.”
I rose, squeezing Gabriel’s shoulder before I stood. His hand caught mine, firm, unwilling to let go too quickly. When his eyes lifted to Hayat, they flicked over him slow and sharp, a measured disapproval that made my chest tighten.
“It’s clear you care for her,” Hayat said, steady but not unkind. “I apologize for my hostility. But if you’ve come to know her at all, you can understand my worry.”
Gabriel gave a short, humorless huff. “Understand it? What I’d like to understand is why you’re here.”
Blood slipped from his nose. He swiped it away with his sleeve, as if it were nothing.
Something in me tightened. Standing between Gabriel and Hayat, I felt the weight of everything pressing in, suffocating me.
“This is my home,” Hayat said simply. He pulled a folded handkerchief from his pocket and tossed it over. Gabriel caught it without thanks, already turning his eyes back to the horizon.
Hayat’s hand brushed mine, urging me gently down the path that wound lower along the cliff. I cast Gabriel one last glance, but he didn’t move, his profile sat in stillness against the sea.
We followed the path my mother once walked toward the ocean’s edge. The gulls cried overhead; the air grew sharper with salt. We walked in silence until the house and the others disappeared behind the rocks.
“Gabriel is very kind,” I said at last. “Don’t give him such a hard time.” I understood Hayat’s suspicion—it was his nature, maybe even his duty—but I needed him to trust me.
At the end of the trail, he stopped. He offered his arm, and I slipped my hand into the crook of his elbow, fingers brushing the firm line of his bicep as we turned toward the water. For a long moment he only watched the tide.
Then, finally, he spoke. “Tell me what you agreed to.”
My throat tightened. “What do you mean?”
I hadn’t told him I’d promised anything.
“You leave for Etherblooms,” Hayat said, voice sharp now.
“An item rarely traded, and when it is, it’s bartered for more than coin.
You return with an escort squad already preparing to return with no indication they—he—would be leaving without you.
Don’t think me na?ve, Elli. A bargain was struck.
You may not want to say it aloud, but I know.
I know my history. Unless you’ve forgotten all those nights we read banned texts together? ”
His anger slammed into me, and I flinched before I could stop myself. “Word travels fast even when the gates stay shut, Elli. They said the king chose a bride, but no one said her name.”
“It was my choice…” I whispered, the words catching in my throat. I had to believe it, or I’d go mad. “I’m returning to Nyxarra.”
His steps faltered. Then he stopped altogether, eyes burning. “Your choice?” His voice cracked on the word. “You think I wouldn’t have made it mine too? You think I wouldn’t have taken that vow instead—borne it, bled for it—just to keep you from this?”
“Hayat—” My eyes blurred with tears.
“I promised, Elli.” His voice broke open, raw and furious all at once.
“Gods, I promised. That I would have died for it—for him—for you. To keep you safe. To keep this from being yours to carry.” He shook his head, a bitter laugh snagging in his throat.
“And you—” His hands raked through his dark hair before falling uselessly to his sides. “You just had to fucking let me.”
The words landed like a strike. Shame flared hot under my skin. He was right. I hadn’t asked. Not once. Not when he would have given anything—more than training, more than friendship—to carry this weight with me. Hot tears streaked down my face before I could stop them.
Silence stretched, broken only by the waves crashing behind us. His chest rose and fell too fast, his anger sparking against something darker—grief, longing, love twisted into ache.
I swallowed hard. “I have to do this,” I whispered. “For him.”
For Aeryn.
Hayat’s jaw tightened, but no argument came. His gaze held mine—sorrow fierce, like I’d already slipped beyond his reach. He turned toward the sea, salt wind raking through his loose waves, brushing the line of his jaw. When he looked back, his warm brown eyes burned, stubble shadowing his cheeks.
He stepped close, cupping my face in both hands. His thumb swept the tears that wouldn’t stop.
“Don’t cry, Elli,” he murmured. Then he drew me against him, my face pressed into the steady rise of his chest. His embrace was the permission I hadn’t known I needed—permission to break.
He held me there, unshaken, before whispering the words that split me open all over again. “I wish you would have just let me love you.”
Below us, a wave broke and the white shattered, and I couldn’t tell if the sound was the ocean or something inside me giving way.