Chapter 25
TWENTY-FIVE
Rylan
It’s dark as I walk through the gardens, trying to clear my head, but all I can think about is our fight—Eirabella, standing there, her eyes blazing with fury, her words cutting through me sharper than any blade. I shouldn't have moved her things without asking. I understand that. But this isn’t just about her comfort; it’s about her safety and protection. Why can't she see that?
The soft evening scent of flowers does little to soothe me, and neither does the soft breeze carrying the melody of the garden’s fountains. I force myself to take a deep breath, but the tension refuses to leave my shoulders. I’ve never had someone speak to me like that—challenging me, standing her ground. The way her eyes blazed contrasting with the softness of her lips on my cheek twists something deep in my chest, a craving, a need that knows it can never be assuaged.
Turning a corner, I see my mother, seated on the bench outside her chapel. She’s peacefully gazing up at the setting sky, the familiar jewellery box beside her, filling the cold night with one of her favourite tunes. She notices me immediately and gestures for me to join her.
“Oh, what a lovely surprise. Come sit with me, Rylan,” she says, her voice as warm as ever, but there's something knowing in her eyes, as if she can already tell what's weighing on my mind.
I take a seat beside her, rocking back on my hands and she leans against my shoulder, letting the music fill the silence for a moment. I glance at the small jewellery box, its tinkling song soft and sweet.
“Still listening to this rickety old thing? You could have the Narathia Orchestra perform any tune under the sun, just for you, Mother,” I tease lightly, trying to distract myself from my thoughts.
She chuckles, a light sound that feels like a balm against the stress I’ve been carrying. “Sometimes, we prefer the simple things.” Her gaze shifts to me, sharp and observant. “I think you might know what I’m talking about.”
I tense, knowing exactly where this is headed but unwilling to address it directly. I shrug, keeping my tone casual. “What do you mean?”
She smiles faintly. “You’ve been raised in a world of opulence, Rylan. But lately, I wonder… what’s it like for you to be around someone who’s lived a life so far removed from the trappings of royalty?” She waves her hand slightly, indicating the palace, the gardens, the life of luxury I’ve always known.
Eirabella.
It’s like these days everything always points back to her.
Mother continues, “Sometimes, I wish I had taken you away from all of this,” she says, her voice soft and filled with regret. “I wonder what kind of man you would have become without the expectations of the crown, without the weight of the world on your shoulders.”
I swallow the bitterness rising in my throat. “Are you unhappy with who I am?”
She rests a hand on mine, her touch grounding. “No, my darling. I’m just unhappy that you’re not happy.”
Her words hit harder than I expect, making me want to look away, but I hold her gaze. I know what she’s saying. She’s not talking about what I want. She’s talking about who I want.
Mothers always know , isn’t that what she’s always said to me?
I pick up the jewellery box, letting my fingers trace over its delicate design, the ancient words etched into its sides, the tune still playing softly. “Sometimes,” I admit quietly, “I wish I could have lived that life too. But then I wouldn’t be able to do what I do now. I won’t waste this life, Mother. I promise.”
She smiles, though there’s a sadness behind it that lingers in the air. “I know you won’t, I just wish I could be here to witness it all.”
Her words settle heavily on my shoulders, the weight of them impossible to ignore. I’m not going to insult her by pretending that I don’t understand what she’s implying. And she doesn't bother trying to comfort me with the idea that I’ll still have my father when she’s gone. She knows what that actually means for me. Instead, I reach over and squeeze her hand, and we sit like we have so many times in my life, simply in the quiet, beside each other.
Father appears after a few minutes, striding across the garden with purpose. His voice cuts through our peace. “Ah, there you are, Annalyne. I think you’ll like the book I have picked out for us to read. Come, before your tea gets cold, my dear.”
Mother gives me a look tinged with the sadness of years we won’t have together, then rises, a little unsteadily, and I reach out to help her, but she waves me off. She walks to him, taking his offered hand. Closing the lid with a dull thud, I hold out the jewellery box to her, but she glances at me, her eyes soft.
“You keep it for now,” she says. “A reminder of the simple joys in life.”
They leave together, disappearing into the palace, and I’m left alone, the soft melody playing on repeat.
And all I can think about is her. A woman I never thought I would want, and grieve what I can’t have.
“And those are the final appointments to my cadre, Your Highness,” Baydor Rathlin, the new Emberon, says, gesturing to the five fire Strength wielders standing behind him. “Your approval notwithstanding, of course.”
I wave my hand. “I trust your judgement, Keeper Rathlin. I did hand-pick you for my own cadre, after all.” I nod at the new members of the fire cadre all in turn. “As Celestaris, I welcome you all to the Essensari Council, made up of Celador’s Keepers of the Essences and their chosen cadres. While we are still missing an Aquilith, we are in the final stages of having a full council again. As you can see, I invited the three candidates for our future Keeper of Water to attend this meeting.” My eyes flick to Eira’s for the first time since the start of the meeting, and then quickly away again. “They will attend this meeting in an honorary role so that they may become acquainted with some of our processes.” I gesture for Baydor to take his seat as I stand, waving at the floor-to-ceiling map of the continent that covers the entire wall of the security hall, ready to start my briefing. It’s the first time in weeks we’ve been able to gather everyone at Aetherhold, after Lira Caldrin, the Terranir, and Tarin Volk, the Zephyros, and their cadres were sent to the western mountainous range to help after reports of a series of landquakes had ravaged the region. Thynara Voss, the Psyrixis, will already be on the road again tomorrow on a special assignment for me.
“The King’s Guard reports that border defences are holding steady in the north,” I say, gesturing to Celador’s border with Avaron on the map, trying to ignore the way I can feel Eirabella’s eyes on me. We have barely spoken since our argument outside her bedroom last night; only in passing as I walked by her in the dining hall to my seat at lunch, and then briefly when I invited her to this meeting. “But we need to split up some of the cadres to support the patrols in the southern provinces, with Solstice approaching. We are predicting the rebels will likely use that time to disrupt our resources and spread chaos.”
The keepers nod, murmuring within their cadres, taking notes, but before I can continue, the door creaks open. Grellor steps inside, his expression tight and serious.
I frown. “Captain Farran, we’re in the middle of—”
“Captain Corvane is with the king and members of the council, Your Highness,” Grellor says with a head bow, cutting me off. “His Majesty requests your presence immediately.”
I huff with irritation. “This had better be important,” I mutter. “Please excuse me and take this time to acquaint yourselves with the new cadre and our prospective Aquiliths.”
Eirabella gives me a small smile as I pass her, and for a split second, I wonder what the consequences would be if I just grabbed her hand and pulled her out of the meeting to somewhere there’s just the two of us.
Grellor returns to his post as I make my way through the cold, stale corridors, readying myself for what’s about to happen. My father never calls me out of an important meeting unless something serious is brewing. When I reach the council chamber, I push the doors open with a force that clearly expresses my irritation at having been called out of my meeting. The king, seated at the head of the table, glances up with that insufferably smug look of his.
“I hope this is important,” I say, my voice edged with frustration. “This is the first time I’ve been able to meet with a full Essensari Council in weeks.”
My father’s smile sharpens, his fingers drumming lazily on the arm of his chair. “Oh, I think you’ll find it important, as crown prince, if not Celestaris,” he says, gesturing toward Mathis, who stands to the side, his expression tight. “Please, Captain Corvane, tell my son what you just reported to me.”
Mathis steps forward, holding out a crumpled piece of parchment. His eyes meet mine, full of warning intent, but his voice is steady as he speaks. “Your Highness, one of my guards intercepted a message sent to the rebellion leader.”
He hands me the parchment. I read the message aloud, the parchment crinkling in my hands. “ ‘Rebel member was able to get close to Prince Rylan during his walk in town. Becoming a regular outing. Could use to our advantage. Please advise, KV. — M’ ”
KV. Kyros Valen. My jaw tightens, and I look up, a dangerous edge to my voice. “Did we manage to catch the traitor who was sending this?”
Mathis nods sharply. “Yes, Your Highness. He’s locked in a cell right now.”
“Get him, Captain Corvane. Now. ”
Mathis turns to leave, his expression grim, and I catch the shadow across his face as he passes me. As the door closes behind him, Duke Ornero leans forward in his seat. “Your Highness, if they’re tracking your movements, you’ll need to be more careful. ”
I swing around, glare sharp and brimming with fury as I fix my gaze on him. “I’m not changing the way I behave in Narathia because of some pesky rebels,” I snap, the force of my words echoing through the chamber. The fury comes from deep in my chest, a warning to anyone else who might dare suggest otherwise.
The king chuckles softly, leaning back in his chair, his expression amused and insufferable as always. “Well said. And I agree with my son, Duke Ornero. Our crown prince is also our Celestaris. Surely he wouldn’t be the hero he’s celebrated to be without being able to protect himself. Wouldn’t you agree?”
Duke Ornero drops his head, sufficiently scolded.
Before the discussion can escalate further, Mathis returns, dragging a tall, lanky man in restraints behind him. A thick, tense silence falls over the council as the prisoner stumbles forward. I recognized him immediately.
“Well, well, well. Maren Parwel,” I say slowly, the disbelief saturating my voice. “I’d heard rumours of your betrayal, but I was hoping you’d prove to be better than that.”
Maren looks up, his eyes blazing with defiance and pure hate. He spits at my feet, the saliva landing inches from my boots. Mathis shoves him roughly to his knees, the sound of bone meeting polished marble reverberating through the chamber.
I step forward, planting my boot against his chest, pressing him back as I wave the parchment in his face. “Where is your leader?” I demand, my voice cold and cutting.
Maren grins, the defiance in his expression sharpening as his eyes fall on the king’s. “It’s of no consequence to you. You’ll never catch him. He’s too clever for you. For all of you. One day, he’ll be in this room, and you’ll all be bowing to Morath.”
Before his words have even settled, I lean down, pulling back my arm, and strike him hard, the back of my hand snapping his head to the side. He sprawls across the floor, landing just inches from my father’s feet. Blood splatters from his mouth, staining the pale stone. For a fleeting moment, something flashes in my chest—a faint pang of regret. But I shove it down, bury it deep where no one, especially my father, can see.
I stalk over, grabbing the back of his tunic and hauling him upright, dragging him to the centre of the room. “Tell us where Kyros is hiding or I swear, you’ll be meeting Morath long before any of us.” My voice drops to a deadly whisper, the words laced with a promise of pain.
Maren spits again, the rebellion etched into every defiant line on his face. “Happily!” he sneers. “At least I won’t be a traitor to the people I’m meant to be ruling.”
That’s the last straw.
With a swift wave of my hand, flames erupt around him, the heat searing through the air and filling the room with the acrid scent of burning. His screams are high-pitched, the sound almost inhuman, twisting through the hall and echoing off the stone walls. I hold the fire steady, a tightly controlled blaze, feeling every pair of eyes on me, the fear I know I inspire mirrored in each face.
When the screaming dies down, I extinguish the flames with a flick of my wrist. Mathis crouches beside Maren, checking his pulse, his face grim. “He’s still alive, but weak.”
The king barely glances at the scene, his face etched with disinterest, as if watching a fly swatted from the air. He waves a hand dismissively, his lip curling in disgust. “Take him to the dungeons and interrogate him there. We don’t all need to witness”—he gestures vaguely toward Maren’s limp form—“this. Just report back with the information when you’re done.”
Mathis looks to me, waiting for confirmation.
I nod. “Do as the king commands, Captain.”
Maren is dragged out of the room, his head lolling forward, blood smeared across his face. The door slams shut behind him, the sound reverberating through the silent chamber. My chest tightens with a barrage of emotions, anger, disgust, perhaps even doubt but I shove it down, crumpling the parchment in my fist and tossing it to the floor.
“This can’t go on. Kyros needs to be dealt with,” I growl, my voice a low, dangerous promise.
The king’s gaze sharpens as he leans forward, his eyes glittering with a challenge. “And when and how, exactly, do you intend to do that?”
I meet his gaze head-on, my voice unwavering. “Solstice.”
After I excuse myself from the council room, I run after Mathis, trying to catch up with him and Maren before they reach the dungeons.
“Mathis!” I angrily hiss, falling into step beside him just as he’s about to turn the corner. The dim, shadowed corridor presses in around us, thick with the stale, metallic scent of blood and sweat from Maren’s wounds. “You know where to take him. Make sure that—”
“Oh my gods!”
The sharp intake of breath stops us both cold. There, at the far end of the hall, Eirabella stands frozen. Her face is pale, her eyes wide and searching as they lock onto Maren’s slumped, broken form. She looks from him to me, her gaze churning with confusion, disbelief.
“Eirabella! What are you doing here? You should be in the Essensari Council meeting.”
“What’s going on?” she asks, ignoring my questions. Her voice is small, almost a whisper, but the weight of her question strikes harder than any shout. “What did you do to him?”
A knot forms in my chest, twisting tighter with each second under her gaze. I’ve been through continent-wide wars, stared down a horde of gallenfyre with nothing but my Strengths, but the way she’s looking at me now—the way she sees me—it pierces deeper than any blade.
I force myself to look at her, to meet her horrified gaze. “Remember when I told you that there are things we sometimes have to do,” I say, my voice low and unsteady, “things we don’t want to?” The words taste bitter on my tongue, the cold reality of them making it hard to breathe. She nods slowly, her fingers tightening around the edges of her cloak as if trying to shield herself from what’s coming. I gesture toward Maren, his head lolling forward, blood trailing down his cheek, his eyes hollow. “This… this is one of them.”
She looks back at Maren, her gaze tracing the bruises, the blood, the raw agony etched into every line of his face. Her voice trembles as she speaks, barely audible. “What’s going to happen to him?”
“What’s supposed to.” The words come out harsher than I mean them to, but maybe that’s the best way. I force myself to hold my stance, my face hard, even though the guilt gnaws at me. “Protecting a realm isn’t always pretty flowers and free bread, Eirabella. There’s a very real and dangerous world beyond these castle walls. Don’t ever forget that.” The words hang in the air between us, hollow, and I wonder if I even believe them anymore. “Maybe I’ve done too good a job of protecting you if you’re surprised by that.”
“Don’t you dare patronise me, Rylan. I know what happens beyond all this. Maybe better than you do.” She steps forward, her eyes filled with a kind of quiet defiance that’s as unwavering as steel. Her hand brushes my arm, grounding me, but it only makes the ache worse, the gnawing realisation that she doesn’t understand, maybe won’t ever be able to understand. “But… you always have a choice, you don’t always have to do… this,” she murmurs, her voice soft, pleading almost, as if willing me to be someone better, someone I’m not sure I can be.
Her words, like her gaze, pierce the armour I’ve tried so hard to build around my heart, and for a moment, I feel the weight of every decision I’ve ever made. I want to tell her that I’ve considered every other way, that I’ve wrestled with it in the dead of night, that I would do anything to spare her from seeing this side of me. But I can’t say any of it. So I harden my voice, even as it threatens to break. “Sometimes,” I murmur, barely finding the strength, “there are no lesser evils in the choices we have.”
Her hand drops away, the warmth of her touch fading, leaving only a cold, widening distance between us. And then I see it—something in her face, something that feels like disappointment, judgement, even. It cuts into me, a deep, throbbing wound, a reminder of everything I’ve tried to bury. I’d hoped I could keep this side of myself hidden from her, shield her from the darkness that’s grown in me, the things I’ve had to become. But here it is, laid bare, and she’s seeing it all. And I can feel her slipping away, piece by piece.
Mathis clears his throat beside me, the harsh sound jolting me back to reality. I nod to him, forcing the words out. “Go,” I say, the weight of the decision settling heavily on my shoulders. Mathis and the guards continue down the corridor with Maren, the sound of their footsteps fading, leaving me in the silence of her gaze.
When it’s just us and the silence, she shakes her head, turns, and walks away. I feel something slip through my fingers, and no matter how hard I try to catch it, it’s gone. As I watch her turn away, the shadows closing in, I wonder if I’ve just lost the only part of myself that could still feel light.