Chapter 49 Elaina
ELAINA
The cell is so cold tonight—colder than it’s ever been. The stones seem to leech the heat from my skin. No matter how tightly I curl into myself, I can’t stop shivering.
There’s straw in the corners, but it’s moldy and damp. The single slit of a window high above lets in a shaft of moonlight so pale it feels like a ghost, stretching across the stone floor like a long, accusing finger.
Tomorrow I die.
The thought echoes in my head, over and over, like the tolling of a funeral bell.
I don’t cry. I thought I would, but the tears won’t come. Maybe they’ve already dried up inside me. What I feel instead is a hollow ache—a silence so vast it doesn’t seem to have a bottom.
The bond I once felt with Xaren—so warm, so alive—has gone quiet. Dim. Like a fire banked too long…or a heartbeat slowing to stillness.
Is he gone? Or just slipping away from me, moment by moment, breath by breath? I don’t know. And not knowing is its own kind of torture.
Footsteps echo down the hallway—soft and hurried. I sit up, heart hammering.
The little door creaks open, and a small figure slips inside carrying a covered tray.
“Tanzy!” I whisper.
She runs to me, tears already streaking her cheeks. She sets the tray down and wraps her arms around me tightly.
“Oh, Princess—my Lady—I’m so sorry,” she sobs.
I hug her back, pressing my face into her shoulder.
“Shh. It’s all right.”
“No, it’s not!” she wails. “You’re innocent! You don’t deserve to…to die.”
The last word comes out as a whisper. She pulls back, sniffling, and uncovers the tray. Steam rises from a small bowl of stew and a piece of fresh bread. My stomach growls, but I’m not hungry. Still, I reach for the bread and tear off a corner, chewing slowly.
It’s warm and savory with a hint of sweetness—the last food I’ll ever eat.
“They’re preparing for the pyre,” Tanzy whispers, wringing her hands.
“The execution square’s already being built.
And they’re hanging new banners for another full coronation ceremony—deep crimson and gold.
The Queen is still in mourning for the old King, but…
” She shakes her head. “King Dorian wants to celebrate.”
Celebrate my death—that’s what he wants to celebrate, I think, feeling sick.
My fingers clench around the bread.
“What about Prince Xaren? Have you heard anything about him?”
She hesitates.
“No one’s seen him. But the guards say he’s still alive. Locked up and wearing the collar.”
I nod slowly. At least I can die knowing he still lives. But how much longer can he last wearing that horrible collar?
“I feel him slipping,” I murmur. “I can’t explain it, but… it’s like I can feel his Drake growing fainter. Dying.”
Tanzy sniffles again and stands.
“I have to go before they realize I’m missing. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”
She leans down and hugs me tightly one more time. “I’ll be watching. And I’ll be praying—to every goddess and every star I know. You never know, my Lady—there could still be a miracle.”
Her hope almost makes me laugh—it’s so futile. But I nod instead.
“Thank you, Tanzy. You’ve been a true friend to me.”
“And you to me, my Lady.” She swipes more tears from her eyes and then she’s gone. The door closes behind her with a finality that feels like a coffin lid slamming shut.
I sit in the dark for what feels like hours, the stew untouched beside me.
Eventually, I lie down on the stone slab that serves as my bed and close my eyes.
At last, sleep steals over me like a thief.