CHAPTER ELEVEN
The scent of jasmine and honeysuckle hung thick in the air, sweet enough to taste. It clung to my throat and lungs, all soft promise and blooming hope. It was a staggering contrast to the metallic tang of blood and the scent of decay that had filled my nose only an hour ago within the Seer’s Orb.
Everywhere I looked, the Garden of Thrynn was a riot of color. Petals of coral and gold unfurled in the sun, while droplets of afternoon dew clung to the roses like tiny, shattered diamonds.
Couples weaved through the shaded canopies, hands clasped tightly, their laughter trailing behind them like ribbons in the wind.
My stomach rolled, nauseous with envy. Everywhere I looked, someone had been chosen.
I found a secluded stone bench near the edge of the grove and sat, the heavy leather-bound book I had managed to slip away with from the Archives resting on my lap.
But as I opened the cover, my focus faltered. My skin still remembered the slow drag of Talon’s thumb along my jaw. The world had gone silent when he touched me. Even now, in the middle of this vibrant sanctuary, I felt a prickle at the base of my neck.
Is he watching me now?
I looked around, my eyes scanning the silver-barked trees and the high stone arches. I looked for a shadow that did not move with the sun, for the glint of glacial eyes behind a trellis of roses. I saw nothing but the swaying of flowers and the casual stroll of citizens.
He was not there. Or, perhaps, he was simply better at hiding than I was at seeking.
I forced my gaze back to the page, but the text blurred.
I could not focus with the shadow of my solstice looming over the coming dawn. I was no closer to a choice. I remained caught between the hollow safety of a sanctioned bond, the demands of the council, and the terrifying pull of a connection that should not exist.
I stopped my research and stood, my gaze catching on a pair of lovers sitting on a nearby marble bench. They sat silently, hands entwined, shoulders touching, looking as if they were anchored to the very earth.
I looked away. I could have that.
I could find some boy with kind eyes and a steady laugh. A simple life approved by the council and a house that did not feel like a battlefield.
Or, I could have one thing I selfishly wanted for myself, consequences be damned.
I reached out, my fingers brushing the bark of a massive Thrynn tree. I leaned my forehead against the rough wood, the cool shade of the canopy doing nothing to chill the fever in my blood.
Just choose someone safe, Kaelia.
My fingers curled against the bark. I could settle for a merchant’s son with careful manners. A scholar who would speak softly across a supper table. Anyone whose touch would not set the air ablaze.
The thought barely formed before something inside me recoiled.
No merchant’s son had ever made the stars align behind my eyelids.
“They say if you touch the tree while unbound, it grants you a vision of an Elarthai.”
I startled and stepped back, my red locs whipping across my vision.
A girl stood a few paces away, sunlight catching in her waist-length gold hair. Her eyes were bright green, almost translucent in the morning light that settled beautifully against her tanned skin.
“A myth,” I replied, trying to slow my racing heart. “I have tried many times. All I ever get is bark and ants.”
She smiled. “Then we are equally uninspiring to ancient magic. I am Hera.”
“Kaelia,” I offered, extending my hand. Her hand was warm when she took mine.
“So, Kaelia, when is your solstice?”
“Tomorrow.”
Her smile faltered, her eyes widening fractionally. “And the Trials?”
I shrugged, watching her face twist in pity.
“A moon cycle for me,” she said. “Still nothing. Sometimes I think something must be wrong with me.”
“Nothing is wrong with you,” I said. “The council likes things orderly. Souls rarely are.”
She gave a small, bitter laugh.
“My mother has already chosen a merchant’s son. He is kind. Polite.” She hesitated. “Holding his hand feels like holding folded linen.”
“At least linen will not ruin your life,” I muttered, then bit my lip, hoping I had not said too much.
Her brows lifted. “Ruin?”
I looked past her at the roses, thinking of the violet lightning and the silver blood in the orb. “Some bonds are not gentle.”
She studied me, as if weighing whether to press further.
“Do you think safety is enough?” she asked instead. “A quiet house. A quiet life.”
“It keeps you alive,” I said. “That has to matter.”
“But does it make you want to wake up beside them?” she asked softly.
I did not answer.
Because I had felt what it was to burn. And no quiet life would ever come close.
“I think,” I said, my voice a low whisper, “Unless we choose death, it is all we will get.”
Silence settled between us, broken only by bees moving lazily between blossoms.
“Would you consider it?” she asked gently. “A bond without the spark.”
“I might not have a choice,” I admitted.
Her fingers traced the trellis beside her. “It is a heavy decision. To give your life to someone without the song of it guiding you.”
“It is,” I answered. “But perhaps some of us were never meant to hear the song.”
She looked at me quizzically, but before she could press any further, a loud shout had us turning towards the rolling green hills beyond the garden’s edge.
A young boy came sprinting across the grass, his blonde hair a mess of tangles.
“Hera! Hera, look!” He held up a fistful of crushed wildflowers.
Hera’s face transformed. The sadness vanished, replaced by a warmth so genuine it made my heart strain. “Oh, Savry, they are beautiful.”
He crashed into her, laughter bubbling in his throat as she steadied him with both hands. She brushed a strand of hair from his damp forehead and pressed a tender kiss there.
“I missed you.”
She smiled. “I missed you too. Did you enjoy yourself?”
He nodded vigorously into her chest, his arms still encircling her, before looking up at her with a wide, innocent smile that was a miniature echo of her own.
“It was lovely meeting you, Kaelia,” she said once the boy had settled against her side. “I best take him home for supper. My parents will be looking for us.”
I nodded. “May your solstice be kind to you.”
“And yours,” she replied gently. “Whatever path you choose, may it bring peace.”
I watched her walk away, her figure shrinking against the vast, golden horizon. I stood alone in the fading light, the shadow of the Thrynn tree stretching out to swallow me.
My pulse refused to settle.
Even here, surrounded by blossoms and soft laughter, something inside me strained toward a place that did not bloom.
I was not meant for the garden. I was meant for the dark.