4. Chapter 4
Chapter four
The kettle screeched, cutting through the restless hum of the city outside Emmaline’s window.
“All right, all right, I hear you,” she grumbled, hurrying to pour the steaming water over a sachet of tea.
“Now, where’s the bloody lid?” She shoved aside a stack of papers and a stray hairpin just as the missing top rolled off the edge with a clatter.
“Of course.” Bending over to retrieve it, she knocked the cup while straightening, sending a slosh of tea across the counter. “Really? Fantastic. If it’s not one thing, it's another.”
The rest of the day after brunch had passed in restless anticipation, every moment stretched with the expectation that someone—anyone—would knock on the door.
Surely, the Patrol would come about the missing Lady.
Or perhaps Lord Caelith himself would appear, not to scold her but to thank her for her quick thinking and boldness.
Or maybe Deyric would barge in with more veiled threats.
There’d been something too deliberate, too knowing about the way he’d watched her.
Was it suspicion—or something else entirely?
But no one had come.
Her one-bedroom apartment in the northern quadrant felt smaller than usual, the scuffed bark walls pressing in around her.
Nestled in one of the aging tree buildings far from the grandeur of the city’s central spires, the twisting wooden staircases and walkways creaked under constant use while the faint murmur of distant voices seeped through the thin walls.
She had kept herself busy or tried to. Scrubbing counters, rearranging shelves, and then pacing the floorboards until the planks groaned underfoot.
The neighbor's music played too loudly, and her dinner—a bland medley of root vegetables—had done little to soothe the restless energy crawling under her skin.
But as night slowly fell, she convinced herself that everything was fine. The Patrol had no reason to come. Deyric’s threats and then odd politeness were just posturing. She didn’t even know why he worried her so much.
And as for Caelith... well, he was undoubtedly thinking of her.
The hum of the city outside her window had eventually lulled her into a fitful sleep, her thoughts tangling around the same belief that had carried her through the last twenty-four hours: everything would work out.
The next day had come like any other Sunday. Sunlight filtered through the small, round window, painting golden streaks across the floor. The muffled sounds of the city waking outside mingled with the rhythmic creak of tree branches swaying in the early morning breeze.
By the time she finally capped the rogue cup of tea and tossed it into her satchel, she was already late. Grabbing a cloak, she headed out the door before hesitating. Was it a good idea to visit Cassidy at the Rider School today? She’d heard that some Corgis could smell crime or violence.
Shaking her head, she forced herself to focus. It would draw more attention if she didn’t go. She went every Sunday, answering questions and giving small tutoring classes on finances for the young elves. Skipping now would only raise questions she couldn’t afford to answer.
Emmaline stepped out into the narrow wooden walkway connecting the towering tree buildings.
Down on the street below, a flock of butterflies, their wings shimmering like gemstones, darted through the wide pathways, collecting magic in their wake.
Their flight wove a chaotic path down the street, and a gaggle of laughing fae children and oversized Corgi pups bounded after them.
The dogs’ stubby legs pumped furiously, their tongues lolling as they barked in excitement while their young handlers shrieked and giggled in delight.
Emmaline paused, leaning on the railing as she watched the chase with a soft smile. The scene was almost enough to calm her lingering nerves. Following the butterflies as they scattered into the sun-dappled sky, she thought, Will my children with Caelith look like that? Will they chase butterflies?
Sighing, she banished the daydream and made her way toward the city center. One step at a time.
Before long, the school loomed ahead. Massive copper pipes wrapped around its stone walls, hissing with bursts of steam that fed the rotating turbines flanking the arched entrance.
Clockwork mechanisms ticked and whirred on the towering iron gates, their intricate gears shifting to allow passage.
It was a stark contrast to the ancient Rider School she could barely remember in Wales, where history and magic were interwoven into every weathered stone.
This version of the school was practical and brash, its steely edges unapologetically modern.
Inside, the air thrummed with purpose. She passed a pair of elves who greeted her with polite nods, their somber expressions softened slightly as they stepped aside.
A horse-sized Corgi padded past, its glossy coat catching the light.
The massive creature paused, turning its head to give her a solemn nod before continuing down the hallway.
“Morning,” she murmured, suppressing the itch to run away as she made her way toward the healers’ corner.
The space was quieter there with only the soft sound of conversation and the occasional clink of glass. Inside a large room off to the right, Cassidy was bent over a young elf with bright yellow hair, her arm secured in a fresh bandage.
“Looks like you had an adventurous morning,” Emmaline said, stepping closer.
Cassidy glanced up, her face lighting with a grin. “You have no idea. And you’re late.”
Emmaline rested her hand on the doorframe. “I wasn’t sure you’d want me to come. You know, given everything.”
Cassidy glanced over her shoulder. “It’s Sunday. It’d be odd if you didn’t come.”
“My thoughts exactly.” Emmaline sagged in relief. She hadn’t even realized how nervous she’d been to see the Corgi Rider again.
“Good.” Cassidy turned back to the patient, deftly adjusting the bandage on the girl’s arm. The young elf flinched, a soft grunt escaping her lips.
“Shush, you. It’s not that bad,” Cassidy chided.
“Maybe if I were a troll,” the girl muttered through clenched teeth. “And you weren’t a sadist.”
Cassidy gave a low, amused grunt. “Maybe you should’ve thought about that before diving off the Heights without a Corgi to guide you.”
The girl flinched. “I had to do something.” Her hair fell forward as she ducked her head. “I wasn’t selected last term. I needed to show them I’m worthy.”
Cassidy sighed, placing a hand gently on the girl’s uninjured shoulder. “The only thing you showed them was that you’re impulsive and maybe a little desperate.”
Tears welled in the girl’s wide eyes. “But... I need this.”
Emmaline stepped closer, her brow furrowed as she glanced at Cassidy. “She doesn’t understand, does she? What it’s like?”
The girl blinked up at her.
“What’s what like?” Cassidy’s brow arched in a mix of curiosity and mild annoyance.
“To give everything you’ve got for a single opportunity.” Emmaline folded her arms. “To know you only have one shot to get it right.”
The girl froze, her mouth falling open slightly before she quickly pressed her lips together, nodding.
Emmaline shifted her weight, one hand gripping her hip as she leaned forward. “Do you know what Lyra did to convince Cerridwyn to take her? To get accepted here?” She gestured broadly around the room.
“What?” the girl asked, her voice faint as Cassidy rummaged through the nearby shelf and pulled out a jar, unscrewing the lid with a practiced twist.
“She ran the whole damn Maze without her Corgi—or any weapons.” Emmaline’s voice dropped like she was revealing a forbidden secret.
Cassidy smirked as she worked, carefully applying salve to the girl’s bandaged arm. “Without any shoes, either, from what I heard.”
“Without any shoes,” Emmaline agreed with a firm nod, stepping closer to the girl. “Just her head and her heart.”
“That’s impossible.” The girl’s eyes shimmered.
Cassidy finished the last of the dressing, straightening up with a satisfied exhale.
“Nothing’s impossible in the Vale, recruit.” She guided the girl to her feet. “You just have to keep your head on your shoulders and your heart intact.”
“Right,” the girl said, her steps hesitant at first, then quicker as she moved toward the door.
“Which you won’t accomplish by taking foolhardy risks like jumping the Heights on your own,” Cassidy added.
“Yes, Mistress.” She dipped her head and then turned and left the room.
Emmaline watched her go. She hoped the girl found her Corgi.
“You know.” Cassidy broke through her thoughts. “Your situation is different, Ems. And you’re not Lyra. What happened to that woman wasn’t an act of bravery.”
The words hit like a bucket of icy water, extinguishing the small flicker of warmth Emmaline had felt moments before. She turned to face her friend. “I thought we agreed the discussion was over—and that you’d support me.”
Cassidy set down the jar she’d been cleaning with a sharp clink, turning to Emmaline with a weary expression. “You’re putting me in a difficult position. Not to mention Lara.”
Emmaline’s eyes widened. “You told her?”
“No!” Cassidy snapped, then exhaled. “But I have to shield this from her, and it’s… it’s hard. It hurts our Bond. And it’s affecting our ability to heal together.”
“Shite. I didn’t know that. I’m sorry.”
Cassidy waved off the apology, busying herself by tidying the space, though her movements were sharper than usual. “Yes, well… nothing to do about it now.”
“You can’t tell her.”
Corgis were notorious for their sense of right and wrong, and Lara would never let this go if she found out.
“I know that!” Cassidy snapped again, her fist clenching tightly at her side before she forced herself to take a steadying breath. “But Lara will sense the lie sooner or later, Ems. She always does.”
Cassidy’s voice had softened, but the strain was still there. Emmaline hated it, hated knowing she was the cause. They’d been through too much to let this come between them—fire and blood and ashes, all of it, and they’d survived together.
“Okay, okay. I’m sorry.” Emmaline’s thoughts spun as she tried to piece together a plan. “Can you keep it together until next Friday?”
Cassidy frowned. “Next Friday? Yes, I think so. Why?”
“It’s the Summer Equinox Ball. I believe that Lady Isolde plans to announce a marriage for Caelith, whether he wants it or not.”
“And that helps us how?”
“He’ll declare me as his mate and future wife instead.” She crossed her arms, daring Cassidy to challenge her certainty.
“Ems…” Cassidy sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I’m not saying you’re wrong. I just want you to be careful. You’re putting a lot on the line here—not just for you, but for all of us.”
“It’s not crazy! I’m not crazy! Once it’s established that we’re mates, I can’t be punished for what happened. Everything can come out safely, then. You’ll see.”
Cassidy stared at her, clearly unconvinced, but said nothing.
“Just give me until the Solstice.”
“Okay.” The tension in her frame eased as she squared her shoulders. “Okay. But don’t you have a class to teach before you find some Corgi pups to cuddle—I mean, babysit?”
“Thank you, friend. I’ll find a way to make it up to you and Lara. I promise.”
Cassidy scrunched her nose but stepped forward, pulling Emmaline into a firm hug. When she released her, she gave her a playful shove toward the door. “When you’re a big fancy Lady living in that oversized castle, I’m sure you’ll think of something suitable.”
“You can count on it.” Emmaline smiled before turning to slip out the door.
Alone in the hall, she leaned against the cool wood of the wall as the anxiety crept back in.
She could trust Cassidy. The woman had always been there for her. They all had.
Maybe it was just the stress, but talking with the Corgi Rider had tugged at something deep and raw, unearthing parts of her past she worked very hard to keep buried.
The memory struck like a physical blow: the ground quaking beneath her feet, sulfur stinging her nostrils as the air turned to fire.
The cries of the burning and dying echoed in her ears, a metallic tang thick on her tongue.
She could still see Cassidy, her face streaked with black and red, her arms trembling but steady as she dragged Margo to safety.
Emmaline squeezed her eyes shut, forcing the images back into the recesses of her mind.
They had survived. Together. And now, when it mattered most, they would be there for her again.
Straightening, she lifted her chin and pushed herself toward the small room behind the healers’ area where her class waited.
The familiar scent of parchment and ink greeted her as she entered the modest space filled with young elves scribbling notes. Emmaline forced her mind to focus on the task at hand, walking them through the basics of managing their paychecks. It was the least she could do.
It didn’t hurt that the pups were waiting after class, though.
She always stayed for an hour, letting their fluffy, oversized forms swarm her as she sank into their unconditional warmth.
Cassidy had started the program years ago as a way for those still wrestling with the trauma of the War—or the move to the New World—to find some measure of comfort.
Most had moved on. But not Emmaline. The pups were a balm she couldn’t quite give up.
By the time she left Rider School, the sun was low in the sky, casting long shadows over the walkways.
The pups’ heat still clung to her skin in a quiet reminder, but her smile dimmed with every step closer to home.
Tomorrow meant returning to work, and the clock was ticking, the time to act slipping away.
She had less than two weeks to prove to Caelith they were destined mates.
Lady Isolde was an obvious obstacle, and Deyric was a problem she hadn’t anticipated. He had never spoken to her before that night. Heck, she hadn’t even known he existed, yet the way he’d watched her—it was as if he knew something she didn’t.
Whatever Deyric’s game was, she had to figure it out before he tipped the scales and ruined everything.