Chapter 33
Elariya
“The Enemy at My Side”
Isat before the same mirror, in the same chair, staring at the same reflection. But everything had changed.
The bruise across my left cheek had bloomed like a dark flower. Not grotesque but every inch unmistakable. The purple-black mark the size of Thayden's palm, with finger-shaped shadows, spoke of exactly what had happened in this room not even an hour ago.
I had almost that amount of time left before the brunch began.
Mother had dismissed the handmaidens who’d returned to finish getting me ready. She’d called Emabelle and used the excuse of wanting family to do the finishing touches for such an important day. The truth was simpler: we didn’t want to risk servants seeing what Thayden had done to me.
While Mother had gone to play nice with the nobles—and keep an eye on Thayden—Emabelle worked behind me on concealing my bruise.
We had to wait for the swelling to go down before we tried.
"Hold still," she murmured, her voice thick with barely-contained emotion. She reached into her travel bag, retrieved her pearl powder, and dabbed it on my cheek with a soft cloth. The powder was ground so fine it felt like silk against my skin.
It was expensive, imported from the Southern Seas, where pearl divers risked their lives for the perfect shells. It had a luminous quality that would help mask the worst of the discoloration, but it wouldn't be enough on its own.
"This might sting a little," she warned, reaching for a small pot of tinted balm. The salve was made from crushed rose petals and beeswax, with just enough red ochre to match my natural skin tone. Emabelle applied it with the tip of her finger, working in careful circles to blend the edges.
I watched her work in the mirror, noting the way her jaw clenched with every touch.
She’d come prepared with her finest cosmetics, the expensive kind she usually saved for the most important occasions. She'd probably never dreamed these beautiful preparations would be used to hide bruises instead of enhance beauty.
Emabelle had always been the fierce one among us—quick to anger, quicker to defend those she loved. Having to cover up evidence of my abuse rather than march downstairs and confront Thayden had to be eating her alive.
"Almost done," she whispered, reaching for the final component: crushed moonstone dust. When mixed with a few drops of rosewater, it created an opalescent shimmer that would catch the light and draw attention away from any remaining shadows.
She applied it with an artist's precision, building up the coverage layer by careful layer until the bruise became nothing more than a faint discoloration that could be mistaken for natural shadow.
She did a good job. I looked like myself again.
During those final touches, silence strained between us like a taut string, filled with everything we wanted to say. Emabelle's hands had stilled, but she didn't step back. In the mirror, I caught her jaw working, words building behind her lips that she was afraid to release.
Finally, she broke.
"If this were my choice, I would take you and run." Her voice was barely above a whisper, but the words sounded like an echo in my ears.
I watched her reflection. The way her eyes burned with helpless fury, the way her hands trembled slightly as she set down the pot of cosmetics.
"Running isn't an option, Emabelle. You know that.” I kept my voice calm and logical, an attempt to seem like I was fine. “This marriage protects all of us. It keeps Mother safe, keeps Grandmother safe, keeps you safe."
I understood they were worried about me, but I was terrified for them, too.
If Thayden could treat me—someone he professed to love—like a punching bag, what would he do to my family? I could imagine him threatening me with their lives every time I did something that displeased him.
It’d be no way to live. But the alternative was worse.
Emabelle met my gaze in the mirror, her reflection fierce and uncompromising. "At what cost?" she challenged. The question hung in the air between us like frosted breath in winter air. "At what cost, Elariya?"
“It’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make. Thayden will…” I was going to say that maybe he’ll get better once we got married, but I knew that was a lie. “I’ll just have to deal with him. He’s acting like more of a prick because he knows about Wolfe.”
He knew—or at least he guessed—that I’d lost my virginity to Wolfe. And he hated it.
“The only reason he hasn’t done worse,” I murmured, “is because he thinks Wolfe is dead.”
For now.
How long would that illusion hold?
If Wolfe had been right—if the dark forces truly used Thayden to reach him—then the truth would surface eventually. And if not that way, then another. Nelkaraad did business with Galaythia. Trade routes, envoys, correspondence.
A crown prince does not simply die without word.
Sooner or later, someone would notice the absence of mourning.
And when Thayden realized Wolfe still lived…
The thought turned my blood cold.
I assumed Wolfe and the guys had already thought about those things. It was logical. They would have had a plan, too, but they’d kept me in the dark. I couldn’t complain about that either.
Emabelle's hands moved to straighten the shoulders of my gown, her touch gentle.
"You haven't spoken about him. Wolfe," she said quietly. "You told us you got him back. But that’s it. You were gone for almost a week, and you haven’t even spoken about the magical realm. The place you always dreamed of visiting."
I’d explained what happened at Morg?ven and the Land of the Dead but nothing more. The rest was too difficult to talk about.
I watched her in the mirror, saw the way she was trying to read my expression for any hint of what I'd experienced in those days I was gone.
Everyone had been walking on eggshells around the subject since I'd returned.
Like they were afraid to ask what had changed me.
What, or who, hurt me besides Thayden. What had happened to leave me looking like a piece of myself had been carved away.
"There isn't much more to say," I replied. It was best I didn’t talk about any of it. What good would it do?
But Emabelle met my gaze in the mirror with those perceptive eyes that had always seen straight through any facade I tried to maintain.
“You look like you have a lot to say.”
“There’s no point. I’m here now.” I turned away from the mirror, unable to hold her searching gaze any longer.
“You look like you’re grieving. I don’t mean the whole Thayden thing. I mean for Wolfe. And whatever life you left behind.”
Nothing could have been truer. I looked up at her and sighed. “It’s complicated.”
She chuckled. “I’m Emabelle Grayson, the queen of complicated.
There’s nothing I won’t understand.” She looked me over.
“I hate your curse. I hate this shit your father has put us through. But I don’t hate that you got to meet someone who clearly meant something to you.
And look, you don’t even remember him, and you still feel something. ”
That mantra about not understanding my feelings had faded. Now I was feeling something else, something new to me. Sure, there was still confusion, but not as much.
“Come on, talk to me.” She lowered her voice. “Tell me about him. Tell me what happened in the magical realm. What was it like being there?”
“Amazing,” I rasped. “It was like nothing else, and I barely got to see the good stuff, but what I saw blew my mind. And Wolfe…”
“Tell me.” She beamed.
“He was like… It was like I pulled him out of a dream. Tall, foreboding, and beautiful, like the statues and artwork of the Fae warriors but…more.” So, so much more.
“Wow. I kind of guessed he couldn’t look that much different to that other guy.” She smirked. She was referring to Bastian. “And I take back every insult I ever threw your way about your poor taste in men. Wolfe sounds lush.”
I managed a smile. “He was.”
“What were you like together?”
The answer to that was a sad one. “Confused.”
Sorrow filled her eyes. “Confused?”
“Me. It was me. I was confused.”
“The whole time?”
I nodded slowly. “It’s difficult to have everyone telling you one thing when your mind can’t process it.
Memories are more than records of events.
They’re records of emotions as they grow and blossom.
I read my journal and tried to learn everything I needed to remember, but it’s not enough when it comes to love. ”
“I can’t imagine how hard it must be. It would ruin me if I couldn’t remember the man I loved and not know that I ever loved him.”
“And all I could think about when we rescued him was getting back here.”
I could go on and tell her how I escaped and Wolfe saved me from certain death, but that was too painful to talk about.
“I wished you’d stayed. I hoped you wouldn’t come back. I hoped you’d take the plunge and seize the life you’ve always wanted. I hated lying to you about Thayden. We all did. I felt you deserved better, and I wanted that for you.” She nodded with conviction.
“I couldn’t stay, Emabelle.” I drew in a measured breath. “I would never abandon my family, especially not to save myself.”
“Your mother and grandmother would never admit this, but I think they hoped you might.”
“Did they?” I raised my brows.
“They did. I heard them talking, trying to figure things out. They wanted you to stay, if only to have a better chance of breaking the curse. That won’t happen here, Elariya.”
A shadow crossed over my heart. “I know.”
“In the five years since you got the curse, this is the first time we’ve had a breakthrough.
Finding out about the ring and the connection to your father’s disappearance was something we never saw coming.
And it’s fucked up that it’s the answer to fix everything, yet we can’t pursue it.
” She paused. “There’s nothing that we’ve thought of that won’t make the situation worse. ”