Chapter 4 #2
It didn’t matter that every time she returned, another part of her soul seemed to shrivel and die.
There was no escaping it, no outrunning her fate.
All she could do was pretend it wasn’t real, live her life in the space between the summons as fully as she could.
Because one day, she knew, they would call her, and she would never return.
He studied her for a lingering moment, skepticism faintly shadowing his nod. He gently captured a lock of her hair between his fingers, absentmindedly playing with it. “You look like you need a stiff drink, not the drivel from those moss-munching nut jobs.”
Elara's eyes narrowed, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Don’t. His ravens could be listening.”
Dario's lips pressed into a thin line, his jaw muscles tensing. He handed his mount over to a waiting stable hand, issuing sharp commands to the guards with an authority that seemed to flow from him effortlessly. They nodded in response, but his attention was already back on Elara.
“I’m escorting you. Don’t argue.”
She sighed but didn’t resist.
They passed through the bailey, entering the courtyard where the garden still thrived, defiantly lush under the moonlight despite the chilly nights leading up to the autumn equinox. Silence blanketed their journey to the citadel, heavy with all the things Dario didn’t ask and Elara couldn’t say.
Her gaze caught his jaw tightening once more, his eyes flicking to meet hers before darting away. Every line of his face strained with effort to hold back his questions.
Dario had always been able to read people—better than anyone she knew.
Now, as his eyes settled on her, Elara could feel him absorbing the weight of her pain without a single word, without pressing for answers she wasn’t ready to give.
His silence was a gift, one she hadn’t realized she needed until that moment, and she was grateful for it. Grateful for him.
She reached out, hesitating as her fingertips brushed his rough hand, causing him to stumble slightly. A flicker of surprise crossed his face before it quickly vanished, his hand gripping hers in a silent reassurance as they moved toward the citadel's grand oak doors.
A heavy pause settled within Elara as they walked up the stone steps. She wished she could stay there, holding Dario's hand a bit longer, but the Druids had other plans for her.
Elara took a deep breath and disentangled her fingers from his, preparing to confront whatever lay beyond those doors. But a sudden, firm grasp on her wrist halted her.
“I’ll be right here come dawn,” he promised, his eyes fervently blazing in the dim light.
A faint smile tugged at her lips. “The Druids will bar your entry before you even attempt to knock.”
“Let them try. I've never met a door I couldn't break through.”
“Dario,” she whispered, her voice a fragile thread weighted with unspoken emotions.
It had been three months since the last time she'd been summoned to Ulrith, and when she returned that night, something inside her had snapped.
She had slipped into his barracks under the cover of darkness, her heart racing with a determination she couldn't quite explain.
Every visit to that wretched place felt like a countdown, like the world was closing in on her, and time was running out.
The fear of leaving this world untouched, unloved—it gnawed at her, hollowing her out until she could no longer ignore it.
But Dario had always seen her differently. From the very beginning, he'd been one of the few who didn’t treat her like a spectacle, like some untouchable, unreachable symbol.
He offered her something few others ever had: respect.
When he looked at her, he saw her—the raw, flawed woman beneath it all.
His gaze never lingered too long, never pried, but there was something in it, something that made her feel seen, understood in a way that stripped her down to the bare truth of her humanity.
The others gawked, whispered, tried to decipher her like she was some celestial puzzle, but Dario.
.. he just looked. Saw her for who she was, not what she represented.
There was something else in those glances as well, in the way his eyes softened every time they met hers.
Affection. She’d felt it, too, ever since they’d met over a year ago.
So, that night, three months ago, Elara had finally crossed the line she’d been dancing on.
She kissed him—recklessly—and when he kissed her back, gods, the intensity shattered her.
The way he held her, as if she were something fragile, something precious, made it feel like he wanted to drown in her just as much as she wanted to lose herself in him.
They'd stayed like that, tangled together until the early morning light seeped through the cracks in the walls, but she had known even then that it couldn’t last. It had been a brief rebellion, a moment of selfishness, of letting herself feel something more than fear and pain.
But it was dangerous. It was a line they shouldn’t have crossed.
Because letting it happen again... letting it consume them both would only end in ruin.
Osin’s gaze followed her everywhere—cold, possessive, calculating.
If he ever discovered what had passed between her and Dario, there would be no hesitation, no mercy.
Dario’s fate would be sealed in iron and blood.
So she had distanced herself, pulled away, and Dario, in that quiet, steadfast way of his, had respected it.
But something had shifted between them since then—something unspoken but impossible to ignore. His eyes lingered just a second too long, his fingers brushed against hers when there was no need. It was subtle, so subtle that anyone else might have missed it entirely. But not her.
His watchfulness transcended his responsibilities. And somewhere within, a fragment of her took a guilty pleasure in his lingering attention.
Drawn by the ghosts of that stolen evening, or maybe just the cover the night provided, Elara found herself closing the distance between them.
Rising on her tiptoes, she let her lips brush against his in a fleeting kiss.
It was barely anything, a whisper of a touch, but it was enough to set her heart racing.
Tonight had broken something inside her, left her aching in a way she couldn’t put into words. And selfishly, she needed this. Needed a moment of warmth, in a life that felt perpetually cold... even if guilt would eat at her come dawn.