Chapter 6
Elodie
I’ve lost track of what day it is.
I know it’s afternoon because the sun has passed its midpoint.
My days are blurring, trapped within these stone walls of Rowan’s wing.
Every day after training, I’m back here staring out the window.
Feeling more and more cut off from life, and from any hope of returning home.
A thin line of dust lifts from the cover of the book as I crack it open, taking a seat on the sofa.
It’s not exactly useful, just a tactical military manual.
The faint sounds of boots and metal echo from beyond the archway.
Quickly shifting my feet from the sofa to the floor, I feel a sudden stiffness come over me.
Rowan enters, armour half-unbuckled, hair damp with sweat. He looks at what I’m reading.
“Don’t worry,” I say, holding up the book. “I have learned none of your castle’s secrets. But I could probably defend the eastern wall against a cavalry charge now.”
“I highly doubt that, but I would enjoy watching you try,” he says evenly, the corner of his mouth twitching. I narrow my eyes at him. It’s deeply inconvenient how distracting he looks without his usual armour hiding his face. I’ve had to remind myself to look away more times than I care to admit.
But that’s beside the point.
The point is, I am no closer to returning home, and all I can say for sure is that Rowan is a man of routine.
He gives me a weary look as he heads into his room, locking the door behind him as he always does.
I wait a few seconds, then stand with my ear to the door.
Hearing the shower kick on with a sharp hiss, then smoothing into a rhythmic downpour.
There is no way I can sit and watch the sun disappear under the blanket of stone once more. It might be stupid and reckless.
In fact, it’s definitely those things because who the hell do I think I am, planning to run loose in a castle of knights?
But I can’t just accept whatever has happened to me.
I need to do something.
However stupid it is.
I don’t care.
I’m already neck-deep in problems, what’s the worst that could happen?
My life is back at home. And no one else is going to get me there but me. Fear and dread knot in my stomach at all the possible scenarios.
What if I’m stuck here?
What if they decide I'm useless and kill me?
What if I stay as a prisoner here for the rest of my life?
I swallow down the lump forming in my throat and cast a quick glance at his door.
He won’t be out for a while yet. I know because he does the same damn thing every day.
I slip into the corridor, easing the door shut behind me.
Taking a deep breath, I look in both directions.
I tried to memorise as much as I could from our walks to breakfast, the training yard, various station points.
I’ve figured out the route to the impressive stone archway.
I’m just praying I can make it there unnoticed.
Thankfully, making myself invisible is the one thing I’ve always been good at.
I keep to the edge of corridors, where torchlight thins and shadows stretch long across the stone.
The castle never seems to sleep, a constant undercurrent of movement even in the quiet moments.
Somewhere below, boots scrape softly as knights trade positions, low voices carrying just far enough to remind me I’m not alone.
I wait between corners, counting heartbeats, listening for the sound of armour before slipping across open spaces and into the darker seams of the yard.
The training ground appears before me, a deserted expanse that is probably under constant surveillance.
The stone archway stands in the centre, and a sharp sense of longing pulls at me.
I know he told me it wouldn’t work, but he would say that, right?
They’re investigating me. They wouldn’t want me to leave.
So, I have to try.
I have to do something.
I check my surroundings, keeping to the shadows as I lower myself to the ground in a crouch. All but running to the archway, my heart thumping in my chest. I reach out my hand, placing it flat on the stone. Closing my eyes, I wait for that glow of white light. The pressure. But nothing happens.
No glow.
No warmth.
No blue flicker in the air.
“You know,” a voice says behind me, and I gasp as I jump backwards. “I don’t think you’re supposed to be out here.” I turn slowly.
A knight stands a few paces away, helmet tucked under his arm, expression unreadable.
“I was just—”
He cuts me off with a small shake of his head.
“I don’t care what you were doing. But you shouldn’t be out here alone.” His gaze flickers to the archway, then back to me. “The High Warden is going to be so pissed.”
“Please, you don’t need to tell him. I… I’ll go back,” I all but beg. “I’m really sorry, please.” The knight is escorting me back to Rowan’s quarters. He didn’t drag me, didn’t even touch me.
I’m not sure why that surprises me, but it does. He is polite but firm. I walk in front of him, feeling the weight of my actions. My sliver of hope, my chance at getting home.
Gone.
It didn’t work.
Nothing happened.
So, was he telling me the truth?
But how did I get here then?
I’m drowning in my thoughts when the knight behind me declares, “Found her in the yard, sir. By the arch.”
I freeze, knowing exactly who he just spoke to.
I slowly lift my head to find Rowan leaning against the door, arms crossed, wearing a black fitted shirt with dark leather trousers and boots.
He looks just as dangerous without his usual armour.
Rowan does not glance at me once, not even to acknowledge I’m here.
“Thank you, Jones. Return to post.” Rowan says, his voice deeper than normal.
“Sir,” the knight responds before saluting and turning back.
I don’t move. Unsure what to do and what to expect, I wait for Rowan to decide. His gaze flickers over me once, quick and unreadable, before he scans the corridor beyond. His nostrils flare once before squaring his shoulders.
“Inside,” he says, his voice low. I move quickly, rushing into the room towards the back corner. The door closes with a thud as he turns the lock with a loud click.
“Rowan, I’m—” I start before he cuts me off.
“How did you get out of my wing?” His voice isn’t loud, just controlled.
“I walked?” I answer, confused. “The door was unlocked.”
His expression hardens, his teeth grinding once before he turns and strides toward the door.
“Come here.” It isn’t a request. He steps aside, gesturing for me to move past him into the corridor. “Walk through it,” he says.
“What?”
“Walk through.” His tone drops lower. I move carefully, stepping over the threshold into the corridor. I stare at him, confusion knotting in my chest.
“Well?” I ask, tilting my head at him. His eyes move between me and the doorframe, a small crease forming between his eyebrows.
“That’s impossible.”
“What is?”
“The door is sealed. You should only be able to pass through with me. Or another knight.”
“Sealed?” I repeat, a chill creeping under my skin. He steps closer to the door, studying the etching carved into the side and brushing his fingers lightly over the markings. A slow, unsettled feeling creeps into my stomach. He turns back to me slowly, eyes sharper now.
“You were told to stay by my side. To not wander.” He doesn’t raise his voice, but his tone drips with power.
“I know, I’m so—”
“I told you it wouldn’t work. And you tried again anyway,” he says, not as a question. I feel embarrassed. Stupid. And then, for the first time in a long time, something sharper flares beneath it.
Not fear.
Indignation.
“You told me it wouldn’t work,” I say, my voice steady despite the burn in my chest. I shuffle my feet. “You didn’t tell me why.” Rowan exhales slowly, not in frustration but in calculation.
His hand drags down his face as he swallows whatever it is he wants to say, and for a moment, I think he’s going to give me some answers.
“You need—” The door swings open.
“Rowan” Kael’s voice cuts through the room, breathless in a way I’ve never seen him before. His usual carefree smile is replaced with worry.
“The king wants to see her.” He looks at me. “Now.”
This is worse than bad.
I know it is, mostly because neither Kael nor Rowan has spoken a word to each other during the entire walk to the King’s throne room. I’m not sure I’ve ever been around Kael when he wasn’t saying something. It’s unnerving.
What punishments do they have here?
I was stupid and reckless.
What will it cost me?
The silence between us is thick and deliberate.
I glance at Kael, who is leading in front and then behind me at Rowan.
We lock eyes for a moment. I can’t read his expression, but I know he can read mine.
Fear. Dread. The king’s throne room appears ahead as I feel panic rise through my bones.
Clasping my hands shut to hide my nervous tremors, I follow Kael through the doorway.
“Stay behind me,” Rowan whispers close to my ear, causing my breath to hitch. I don’t respond. My only acknowledgment is stepping back to let him move in front of me, his shoulder almost brushing mine.
“You’re all here, excellent,” the King’s voice booms, a hint of malice lining his tone. I remain still, looking between Rowan and Kael.
“Come, girl. Move forward. I need to speak with you,” he says, gesturing for me to come toward him. Rowan stiffens, hesitating for a brief second before moving to the side.
“I hear your grand plans to escape were futile,” he chuckles to himself. “Tell me, what was your plan to return home?” he asks me, tilting his head and waiting.
“I … um… I didn’t. I don’t…” I feel myself wobble. “There was no plan.” The King doesn’t respond, waiting for me to say more. “I was hoping if I could just get to the stone and, you know… touch it that maybe it would glow again like it did last time.” I say, bowing my head in defeat.
The King looks at me, an expression of intrigue filling his tired eyes.
“You really do not know, do you?” he asks me, releasing a soft breath.
“I’m sorry?” I ask.
“You don’t even know how you arrived, let alone how to get back. Your world must not know of the forces it brushes against. Or it has forgotten.” He says cryptically.
“I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”
“No, it appears you do not,” he looks to Rowan as they share a brief look.
“My High Warden here told me you were a botanist back where you came from?” he says to me. I turn to Rowan, but he doesn’t meet my gaze.
Why is that even important enough to share?
“I guess so,” I say.
“You guess. Were you not a botanist?” He remarks.
“Well, I was a junior assistant at a botanical garden so I wasn’t exactly, you know… a leading researcher or anything like that.” I say, crossing my arms over myself.
“But you studied plant science, no?” he asks.
“Yes, I did.” I look once more at Rowan, who refuses to look my way.
“Then I propose a deal to you,” the King says, pacing in front of me. I choose not to speak. He pauses his steps in front of the window, his focus drifting to the view beyond the glass.
“You wish to return to your world. We wish to restore what we have lost. Our goals align,” he says, and I feel the two knights tense behind me.
“I’m not sure I quite understand what you mean?” I ask.
“There is ancient magic buried beneath these soils. It lingers in the stones,” he continues to stare out the window. “The gates have been sealed and rendered useless,” the King says plainly. He turns from the window at last, fixing me with a look that feels like a verdict.
“The key has broken.”
“The key?” I ask. Rowan told me about a key… but I definitely didn’t use a key to get here.
“Every threshold has one.” He continues calmly. “Ours no longer answers.” I pause, trying to process what he is saying.
“And you think I can fix it? The key?” I shake my head. “But I know nothing about magic or your systems or—”
“You understand growth,” he cuts in. “You know cultivation. What thrives and what withers when conditions change?” He turns to face me fully now, his expression darker.
“My scholars have studied this land for decades. Named every variable, exhausted every theory. They have bled this problem dry of answers,” he pauses.
“But you came through that gate, full of knowledge that I need. Whether it’s a coincidence or pure luck, I don’t care.
You are here now, and you will help us.” He looks to Rowan, giving him a small nod, barely noticeable.
“You either restore the key,” he says, “or you will remain a prisoner of the state, no longer a guest under my courtesy.” I swallow thickly. I doubt I have any other option here.
Clearly, the decision will be made for me, regardless.
He speaks as if I have a choice.
I don’t.
“What is the key?”
He holds my gaze long enough to make my skin prickle.
“Butterflies.”