C H A P T E R T W E N T Y – S E V E N
She’s not ready.
C H A P T E R T W E N T Y – S E V E N
Olwyn
A ltair and Iolas had escorted me to my chambers, their presence a quiet amid the chaos still buzzing in my veins.
Iolas had silently guided me to the bathroom, helping wash the blood from my hands in the basin. The water had swirled crimson as it disappeared down the drain, the faint scent of lavender soap mingling with the metallic tang that lingered in my mind. His little touches on my hands and arms reminded me to stay present, reminded me I wasn’t alone.
Altair had walked in, his tall frame filling the doorway. He carried a clean pair of silk trousers and a lace-up shirt, the pale fabric so different to the dark stains on my tunic. Without a word, he set them down on the marble counter, our eyes meeting for a moment before they both stepped out, giving me space.
I change in the bathroom, peeling off my blood-soaked clothes and letting them drop into a heap on the floor. The cool silk of the trousers and the soft linen of the shirt feels soothing against my skin, grounding me as I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself.
Altair and Iolas wait for me as I step back into the bedroom, their eyes searching my face for any hint of how I’m feeling. Sera and Thalia are there too, standing by the window, their expressions a mix of worry and relief.
Altair clears his throat, breaking the silence. “I had them bring you some chamomile tea,” he says, his voice soft but steady.
I nod, the gesture small and tired, before sinking into the chair nearest to me. The cushion cradles me, and I close my eyes for a moment, letting the room’s quiet settle around me like a blanket.
The door opens, and Ailith strides in, her gaze sharp as it sweeps over everyone. She pauses, then looks at Altair and Iolas. “Give us a few minutes,” she instructs.
Altair’s jaw tenses slightly, checking my expression for any hesitations, but he nods, exchanging a brief glance with Iolas before they both turn and step out of the room.
The scent of chamomile wafts up from the delicate porcelain cup in front of me. I stare into the steaming tea, the liquid rippling slightly as Thalia sets the teapot down with a gentle clink.
“Shall I bring anything else, Your Majesty?” Thalia’s voice is soft, cautious even, as though she can sense the thoughts swirling in my head.
I shake my head, not trusting myself to speak just yet. My hands tremble slightly as they rest in my lap, a faint reminder of the blood that had stained them less than an hour ago.
Thalia and Sera give me a small nod and exit the room, her footsteps fading into the distance, leaving me alone with Ailith.
The silence is heavy, oppressive even, and I can feel Ailith’s eyes on me. She moves to sit across from me, one leg crossed over the other, her arms resting lazily on the armrests of her chair. She’s wearing her body armour, which is fitted close to her form, sleek and functional, the fabric shimmering in the light as if woven from silk and steel. Despite the elegant surroundings of the tearoom, she’s a force of nature—a storm in human form.
I clutch the edge of my teacup, feeling the warmth seep into my palms, trying to ground myself. But the heat only reminds me of the warmth of blood, and suddenly the memory rushes back: the dagger, the cold steel piercing flesh, the woman’s lifeless body crumpling at my feet.
I killed her. I ended her life.
And it’s not guilt which is making me feel sick.
The tea does nothing to soothe the nausea rising in my throat, and I force myself to take slow, deep breaths, trying to regain control.
Ailith is silent for a long moment, her eyes studying me like a predator sizing up its prey. She’s waiting. Watching.
I finally speak, my voice hollow. “I killed her.”
Ailith leans forward slightly, resting her elbows on her knees. “Yes. You did.” Her tone is blunt, completely without sympathy.
The raw truth of her words is jarring but necessary. She’s not coddling me, not pretending like I didn’t just take a life. She’s acknowledging it in the most direct way possible.
I swallow hard, my hands tightening around the cup. “I’ve never killed anyone before.”
I expect Ailith to raise a brow at me, like spilling a life is nothing. But she looks away, a muscle ticking in her jaw, before leaning back in her chair. “You don’t look like the kind of woman who’d spent her life gutting people.”
I look up at her, startled by her casual tone, her indifference to the gravity of the situation. “How can you be so… calm about this?”
Ailith shrugs, her lips curling into a wry smile. “Because this is the world we live in, Olwyn. People try to kill you, and you either defend yourself, or you die. There’s no room for sentimentality.”
I blink, her words hitting me like a cold gust of wind. It’s not that I don’t understand what she’s saying—it’s just that I’ve never been forced to face it so directly.
“You killed someone,” she continues, her voice matter of fact. “And you know what? It was necessary. She would have killed you if you hadn’t acted. You’re alive because you made the right choice. So, why are you sitting here like it’s the end of the world?”
My hands shake as I set the teacup down on the table, my stomach still twisted in knots. “Because it feels like the end of something,” I admit, my voice quiet. “I feel different. Like something’s changed inside me.”
Ailith’s gaze sharpens, her green eyes boring into mine. “Good,” she says bluntly. “It should change you. You’ve crossed a line that can’t be uncrossed. You took control, Olwyn. You saved your own life. That’s not something to feel guilty about.”
I meet her gaze, the intensity in her eyes forcing me to confront the truth I’ve been avoiding. She’s right. I acted to survive. I defended myself. But the weight of the act still presses down on me, suffocating.
“I wasn’t prepared,” I say softly. “I wasn’t ready.”
“No one’s ever ready,” Ailith replies, her voice sharp. “It doesn’t matter how much training you do, how many scenarios you run through in your head. The first time you kill someone, it’s going to mess with your head. But don’t sit here wallowing in self-pity, because that won’t help you. What will help you is realizing that you’re stronger for it.”
Stronger. The word echoes in my mind, and I try to grasp onto it, to make sense of it.
“I don’t feel stronger,” I admit.
Ailith snorts, clearly unimpressed with my answer. “That’s because you’re still letting your emotions control you. You’ve got the strength, Olwyn, you just need to stop letting your guilt get in the way of seeing it.”
I stare at her, my mind a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts, feeling like she’s talking about something else. But somewhere beneath the storm, there’s a flicker of something else. Something like pride. Or perhaps relief.
I’m alive. I made it out alive.
And she’s right. That woman—whoever she was—would have killed me if I hadn’t acted. I defended myself. I did what I had to do. And after being attacked by that man, it’s nice to feel something other than helpless.
Ailith watches me closely, as though she can see the shift happening inside me, the slow realization dawning. She leans back, her lips twitching into a satisfied smirk. “You’re not the same woman who came to this palace. You’re learning. You’re surviving. And that’s what matters.”
I exhale shakily, the tension in my chest loosening ever so slightly. “I guess I am.”
Ailith takes a sip of her tea, her eyes glinting with approval. “Damn right you are.”
I look down at my hands, no longer trembling, and I feel the tiniest spark of confidence flicker to life. Maybe this is what Ailith meant by strength—not just the ability to fight or kill, but the ability to face the consequences of your actions and come out the other side stronger.
Ailith’s smile widens, her sharp teeth flashing briefly. “You’re finally waking up to who you are. There’s a warrior in you, Olwyn. You just had to dig deep enough to find her.”
A warrior. The thought settles in my mind, solidifying as I think back to the fight, to how I acted on instinct. To how I didn’t hesitate to protect myself.
I killed her because she tried to take something from me.
And I didn’t let her.
I take a sip of my tea, the warmth spreading through me, and for the first time since the fight, I feel a sense of peace. Not guilt. Not regret. Just peace.
Ailith watches me for a moment longer, and then, as if sensing the shift in my mood, she stands. “Good talk, Your Majesty,” she says, giving me a half-smile that’s more approving than mocking this time. “Now, stop worrying about it. You’ve got bigger things to focus on.”
I smile, feeling a strange sense of gratitude toward her bluntness. She didn’t coddle me, didn’t treat me like a fragile thing. And because of that, I feel... better. Stronger. Surer of myself.
“I will,” I say, standing up from the chair and straightening my posture.
Ailith nods, satisfied. “Good. Let’s go.”
I smile, a real smile this time, and nod in agreement.
For the first time, I feel like I’m not just surviving—I’m thriving.