chapter twelve
ELYSIA
My head pounds as sunlight spills through the balcony doors, the sharp brightness stabbing behind my eyes. The wine from last night coats the back of my tongue, thick and sour as a hangover claws at the edges of my skull. Gods… how much did I drink?
I sit up, dark blue hair tumbling in waves over my arms as I swing my legs out of bed. My private quarters are awash in pink and gold from the rising sun, light spilling over the wooden floors. A soft sea breeze drifts through the open balcony doors, carrying with it the scent of my florals.
Tending to them always grounds me, the rhythmic motion, the faint hum of magic pulsing beneath their petals. It soothes the ache in my head, at least a little.
I drift toward my desk, steps slow and heavy.
A letter from Cole has been waiting there since yesterday morning, though by the time I stumbled home last night after a day buried in lessons and a night drowning in wine, I was far too tired to read it.
Now, as dawn light filters across the room, I break the seal and pull the folded vellum free.
Unfolding it, my eyes catch on the familiar scrawl and the tiny flame sketched in the corner, his signature mark, a nickname captured in ink.
Word travels fast out here. I heard through the grapevine that you’ve gone and gotten yourself soul-bound. I’ll admit, I didn’t believe it at first. You? Willingly tied to someone for life? I always thought you’d sooner set The Council chambers on fire and dance in the ashes.
But knowing you, there’s a reason. Probably something to do with finding that cure, right?
You’ve never been one to let a mystery lie still.
I can almost picture you now, brow furrowed, muttering under your breath about the plague and corruption and how The Council is hiding something. Some things never change.
Training here’s going well, better than I expected, though I hate to admit it.
The instructors say I’ve got potential, but we both know that’s only because you’re not here to kick my ass and keep my ego in check.
Gods, I miss that. The sound of you laughing right after landing a hit, that look you’d give me like you’re daring me to try again.
No one here fights like you. They fight to win; you always fight to prove a point.
Oh, and Kaden Reinheart? Really? I nearly spat my drink when I heard that one. I’m not sure if I should be impressed or horrified. Is he as insufferable as everyone says? Never mind, don’t answer that, I know you can handle him. Just don’t let him think he’s the one holding the leash, yeah?
I miss you, Sparks.
Love,
Your Cole.
A laugh slips past my lips, quiet but genuine. Even through the vellum, I can almost hear his voice, that teasing lilt barely masking amusement. For a moment, it feels like he’s here with me, smirking over my shoulder as he always did.
I pull a sheet of fresh parchment toward me and dip my quill, ink pooling in slow rhythm with my thoughts.
My reply spills easily as I write about the chaos of these last four weeks, a promise to kick his ass when we meet again, and a full-hearted agreement that yes, Kaden Reinheart is every bit as insufferable as rumour claims. When I’m done, I fold the letter neatly, slide it into a clean envelope, and press the seal closed.