Chapter 23
TWENTY-THREE
Rylan
I think this meeting with the King’s Guards is actually going to kill me. The mundane details of patrol routes and security measures drone in my ears until I can barely remember my own name. I try to focus, but my thoughts keep drifting back to Eira. I wonder how her combat training is going today. Is she pushing herself too hard again? I’ve warned her a dozen times to pace herself, but she never listens. It’s ridiculous—I shouldn’t be worrying about her so much. She’s strong, resilient, independent. But there’s a part of me, deep down, that’s always on edge when it comes to Eira.
Just as I’m about to end the meeting early and dismiss the Guard for my own sanity, the door slams open. Doran bursts in, his face pale, eyes wide with panic.
“Your Highness, you need to come now,” he gasps, barely able to catch his breath. “It’s Eira.”
The blood drains from my face. I don’t wait for an explanation. The chair screeches against the floor as I shove it back and bolt from the room. My heart is pounding, dread curling in my stomach like a vice.
The training grounds aren’t far, but it feels like an eternity before I reach them, Doran trailing far behind me. The whole time, one thought pounds through my mind: I should have been there. I should have stayed with her.
The sight that greets me turns my blood to ice.
Eira is lying on the ground, motionless, drenched in water. Her dark hair clings to her face, her body limp. Completely and utterly alone.
My hands shake as I drop to my knees beside her. She’s burning hot to the touch, her skin red despite the clamminess. I lift her into my arms, her body limp, unresponsive.
“Eira?” I whisper, brushing the wet strands of hair from her face. “Eira, wake up. Please.”
But she doesn’t respond. There’s nothing, no sign that she can hear me. My heart is pounding so hard I can barely hear anything over the rush of blood in my ears. Panic claws at my chest, and I shake her gently, my voice rising in desperation.
“Eira, wake up!” I shout, my voice breaking. “Please, Eira, you have to wake up! I command it!”
Her body remains limp, her head lolling against my chest, and it feels like the ground is falling out from under me. I stand, cradling Eira’s limp form against my chest, her wet clothes soaking through mine. Her body feels like a burning fire in my arms.
“Doran!” I shout as he finally appears beside me, panting from the run. “Tell the healer I’m coming. Get everything ready!”
Doran doesn’t hesitate. He takes off at a sprint toward the healer’s quarters. I don’t waste another second, making my way there as fast as I can without jostling Eira too much. My mind is racing, fear gnawing at my insides, but I force it down. I can’t afford to panic. Not now.
As I make my way through the castle corridors, Mathis appears from around the corner, his eyes widening in shock when he sees us. He reaches out, ready to take Eira from me.
“Let me take her,” Mathis says urgently. “You’re not thinking straight. I’ll—”
“No,” I snap, pulling her closer. “I’ve got her. I’m... I’m the one who promised her I’d keep her safe.”
The words taste bitter on my tongue. I’d promised her. I told her I’d be there for her, that she could rely on me, and yet here she is, limp and lifeless in my arms because I wasn’t there to protect her. Mathis nods, understanding, and steps aside, allowing me to pass. I push forward, my heart hammering in my chest, every step feeling like it’s taking too long, every second precious.
We finally reach the healer’s quarters, and I kick the door open with more force than necessary. The healer, Falon, an older woman with sharp eyes, is already prepared, the room filled with the scent of herbs and medicinal oils.
“Put her on the bed, quickly,” Falon instructs, her tone leaving no room for argument.
I do as she says, laying Eira down gently, but don’t step back. I stand there, hovering over her, my hand still gripping hers. She’s still not waking up. My breath catches in my throat as the healer begins her work, her hands glowing with a soft, warm light as she moves them over Eira’s body, checking for injuries, assessing the damage.
But I can’t stay silent. I can’t just stand here and do nothing. “Why isn’t she waking up?” I demand, my voice trembling with barely restrained panic. “You have to do something. She’s not... she’s not responding! ”
She glances at me, her expression calm but firm. “She’s exhausted, pushed far beyond her limits.”
“Heal her right now!”
“Rylan, calm down,” Mathis tries to intervene, but I’m beyond reasoning.
“Don’t tell me to calm down!” I shout, my voice echoing off the walls. “She’s barely breathing! You have to help her! If anything happens to her, I swear…”
Falon meets my gaze, unflinching. “I’m doing everything I can. But you need to let me work, Your Highness. You can stay, but only if you keep out of my way.”
“Just tell me what to do! Tell me something I can do to help, I can’t just stand here, I’ll lose my damn mind.” I take a shuddering breath, trying to rein in the panic that’s threatening to consume me, and the only thing keeping me grounded is Eirabella’s hand in mine.
“You can just be quiet and be here so she knows she has a friend. But I mean it, stay out of my way.” There’s no room for argument in the healer’s voice.
“I promised her I’d protect her,” I whisper, more to myself than anyone else. “I promised.”
It’s a full day before she stirs, her eyelids fluttering as she slowly wakes. Relief floods through me so intensely that I nearly collapse from the force of it. I’ve been sitting by her bedside the entire time, watching her, willing her to wake up.
“Eira,” I whisper, leaning closer, my heart pounding. “Eirabella, can you hear me?”
Her eyes open, and she blinks, disoriented, her gaze slowly focusing on me. “Rylan?” Her voice is hoarse, barely more than a whisper.
I let out a slow breath. “Yes, it’s me. How are you feeling?” She frowns slightly, trying to push herself up, but I gently press her back down. “Easy,” I say softly.
“Like a drakor trampled all over me,” she murmurs, her eyes drifting shut again. “Went to get some lunch and then came back to do it again an hour later.”
My body sags with relief at her joke. “That’s why you need to rest,” I tell her, brushing a strand of hair from her face.
“You look terrible,” she says, her voice still soft but with a hint of her usual spirit.
I chuckle, the sound more of a relieved sigh than anything. “As charming as ever.”
She tries to laugh, but it comes out as a cough. I hand her a glass of water, helping her take a few sips before she lies back down. “You stayed with me?”
“Of course I did,” I say, the words coming out more sharply than I intended. I soften my tone, adding, “I wasn’t going to leave you alone again.” I swallow, hanging my head in shame.
Her expression softens, and she reaches out, her hand resting on mine. “Thank you, Rylan,” she says, the words heavy with meaning.
“Whatever do you have to thank me for?”
She smiles. And it might be the most fucking beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. “Just for being here.”
I swallow hard, confusing feelings for her rising to the surface, threatening to overwhelm me. “I’ll always be here for you, Eira,” I say, the words slipping out before I can stop them.
Her gaze softens, and for a moment, the world narrows down to just the two of us, the weight of everything else fading into the background. I feel the urge to lean closer, to close the distance between us, but I hold back, the reality of who we are and what’s at stake keeping me in check.
I take a deep breath, changing the subject. “Eira, what happened out there? ”
She stiffens slightly, and I catch the sight of a frown before she looks away from me. “It was just training, Rylan. Nothing more.”
“Just training?” I repeat, not hiding my disbelief. “I don’t fucking think so.”
“It was. Nothing to worry about.”
I rise to my feet, frustration tightening my jaw. “Tell me the truth, Eira. Who did this to you!”
She just shrugs, picking at the blanket on top of her. “It doesn’t matter.”
I force myself back down onto the seat, gently pushing on her chin so she’s facing me again. “You might as well tell me. Doran and some of the other combat trainees already confirmed it. I know they pushed you past your abilities. To the point of burnout. That’s not ‘just training,’ Eira. That’s dangerous. And I will not fucking stand for it.”
Her face flushes with shame and embarrassment, and she pushes my hand away from her face. “I’m sorry. That I…didn’t do better. Maybe you need to reassess who you want as your disciple.”
“No,” I say firmly, catching her hand again and holding it tight. “Don’t let this make you doubt yourself. And don’t doubt my faith in you. You’re exactly who I want by my side protecting the people. There’s no one else.”
Her eyes glisten with unshed tears, and for a moment, I think she might break down. But she doesn’t. Instead, she squeezes my hand, her grip firm, and nods.
“Good, now get some sleep. I’m sick of your questions already,” I gently tease her.
She grins, but then closes her eyes, and I wonder who it is she dreams of when she sleeps.
The glass door to the training grounds opens with so much force that it shatters into a thousand pieces. Every single eye on the field snaps toward me, but all I see is Master Kaelen, a smirk on his face as he talks to one of his junior mentors. Like he didn’t push Eirabella to the brink of burnout. My hands are already twitching with magic, the water curling at my feet, ready to be unleashed.
I don’t stop walking until I’m close enough to hear his breath catch, pupils. His face pales, pupils widening as he sees the fury in my eyes. He’s not prepared for this—he’s not prepared for me.
Before he can open his mouth, I thrust my hand forward, and a wave of water explodes out of thin air, hitting him square in the chest. He’s thrown backward, crashing onto the ground. The torrent of water that surrounds him swallows his gasp, pushing, pressing down on him. He flails, trying to summon his own magic—trying to push me back with what little control over water he has—but it’s useless. He’s struggling, drowning under the weight of my strength.
“Do you like how that feels?” I snarl, stepping closer as the water tightens around him, cutting off his breath. His eyes are wide with panic now, his hands clawing at the water, but I don’t let up. “Do you like being overpowered? Pushed to the point of breaking? Is that the lesson you were trying to teach my disciple?”
He gasps, his hands trembling, but he tries again to push back. I feel a weak pulse of water magic against mine. I press harder, the water swirling tighter around his chest, dragging him over the ground. “Just think, I’m playing nice right now. Can you imagine what will happen if I lose control?” The cold in my voice only drops the ambient temperature to mere degrees above freezing.
Master Kaelen thrashes, arms and legs, each in a different direction, trying to gain some control of the churning water around him, and finally gathers enough strength to summon a weak barrier, his own water surging up around him, trying to fight mine. For a moment, the field fills with the sound of waves clashing against each other in an angry storm of whitewash, but it’s no contest. His magic is weak—pathetic compared to mine.
His barrier shatters as soon as it meets the force of my attack, the water crashing down on him like a tidal wave. He stumbles again, choking on the water washing over his head, and I raise my hand again, lifting him thirty feet off the ground. His legs flail in the air as the tunnel of water curls tighter, constricting around him like a vice. His hands claw at the air, his magic fizzling out in weak spurts as he tries, desperately, to push me back. It’s like watching a child fight a storm. He has nothing left, and he knows it. Suddenly the water disappears from under him and he plummets to the ground, only to be cushioned from the fall with a splash into the small pond I’ve created under him.
The pond slides out from under him and freezes into a disc that pushes down on top of him, and he strains with the effort of holding it up, stopping it from crushing him to dust.
The way he is struggling, stuttering, to breathe, curls around me in a deliciously dark and twisted satisfying thrill.
“Is this what you wanted to teach her?” I shout, stepping closer. “To be pushed so far she couldn’t stand? To have magic used against her until she broke?”
He struggles to speak, gasping for breath as the disc pushes down on him harder and harder. His eyes are wide with panic, his face turning red, but I don’t relent. Not yet. I want him to feel this. I want him to know what it’s like to be helpless.
In the background, I hear Mathis shout my name. Apparently, someone thought they needed to get Captain Corvane to come save the weapons master. Not even my best friend can save him now.
Kaelen’s fingers twitch, one last attempt at a counterattack, and a weak stream of water that barely makes it past his fingertips. I barely notice it. With a flick of my wrist, the disc dissipates into another wave that crashes over him in a million tiny ice shards, some embedding in his skin like splinters.
He whimpers. What a coward of the absolute lowest degree.
“You are done teaching here,” I say, my voice harsh and unforgiving. “YOu don’t deserve to teach Aetherhold’s disciples. And I better not see you anywhere near my disciple again. Or else next time, I’m going to forget any gratitude that I owe you as my former mentor, and remind you of exactly how good a disciple I was.”
He coughs out a mouthful of water, trembling on the ground, but I don’t bother looking at him again. He’s nothing now.
“And you,” I say, turning to Mistress Manoram, who’s standing frozen, her face pale. Selene stands silent beside her, too shocked to move. “I suggest you start teaching your disciple how to win without cheating. The king has dungeons that don’t allow magic, don’t forget. I’d hate to see you two wasting away down there for not following the rules.”
Without waiting for a response, I storm out of the room, my magic still pulsing through my veins. I’m furious. But more than that, I’m scared. Eirabella was too close to breaking today. No one will get close to hurting her. And I know just how to guarantee that no one ever will again.