Chapter 20 Esther
Esther
How to tell if someone is flirting: ask a friend. Not yourself. Definitely not yourself.
Esther had never walked through a camp at night before.
Her nightly strolls in palace gardens with stiff, silent servants were nothing like this.
She drank in the lanterns’ soft glow, the low murmur of whispering fires, the sky stretching wide above her like a lake of stars.
It felt like stepping into someone else’s dream.
The palace after sunset had always belonged to guards and ghosts. Daughters did not wander. They were escorted, observed, and corrected. The simple act of walking freely at night made her chest ache with happiness, edged with disbelief.
Or maybe she was dreaming—and she never wanted to wake.
She wasn’t used to being allowed anywhere this late. Palaces locked their daughters in long before midnight. All she could do was read by candlelight, staring out her window and wishing for adventure.
“Careful there,” Teren said as she stepped over a wagon wheel. “Ground dips close to the water.”
She smiled politely. “Thank you.”
The bracelet on her wrist pulsed gently, almost as soothing as a hot bath. Her magic stayed tucked neatly under her skin, like a sleeping cat. For once, her heartbeat didn’t conjure sparks or trembling light.
Calm felt unfamiliar. She had grown accustomed to her magic reacting first—announcing fear before she recognized it. Now her body was quiet, and she didn’t yet know how to listen without the warning bells.
She felt… strange. She liked not creating havoc, but the absence of sparks felt wrong in a way she couldn’t place. For the first time, she wished for a magic lesson with Basil.
Teren led her between two leaning pines, then down a narrow slope where moonlight pooled over a stream. Water burbled softly over smooth stones, catching silver across the ripples.
“Oh,” Esther breathed. “It’s beautiful.”
She had imagined this scene countless times, yet it was more breathtaking than she’d imagined. She wanted to bring Nythir here.
“Greyhollow streams usually are,” Teren said proudly. “Come sit.”
He gestured toward a fallen tree, smooth from years of weather. She perched carefully, smoothing her green dress, trying to sit like a proper person. Her etiquette tutors had never prepared her for log seating.
“We’re already in Greyhollow?” she asked. Nythir had said four days or more. It had barely been a full day.
“Just the outskirts. Greyhollow is a large city, great for merchants. A few days till the market square,” Teren said.
“Oh. That makes sense,” she nodded.
“You’re not from around here,” Teren said, sitting too close. “I could tell from the way you ride… and talk.”
Esther blinked. “Do I talk wrong?”
“No,” he laughed. “You talk like someone kept indoors a lot.”
It wasn’t said cruelly. That made it harder to place. Esther searched for the correct response, the way she had been taught—polite, neutral, non-provoking. No lesson covered what to do when kindness felt tilted.
“That’s accurate,” she admitted softly. She had been trapped, not merely kept.
“First real road trip, then?” he asked.
“Yes,” she whispered. “First… everything.”
Teren’s gaze lingered. “We don’t meet many like you on the road.”
“What kind?” she asked, genuinely curious.
“Soft and sweet,” he said.
Esther froze. The words were wrong. Soft had always meant manageable. Sweet had always meant pliable. Compliments like that had followed her through palace halls, usually right before someone decided what was best for her.
She regretted not listening to Nythir. He noticed danger before it touched her. He catalogued tone, posture, and proximity. Esther noticed danger only when it pressed too close to ignore. She hated that difference—and relied on it all the same.
“Thank you,” she said politely, though her smile didn’t reach her eyes.
“I meant it,” he murmured, leaning closer.
Her stomach fluttered unpleasantly. Not like when Nythir was near—this was wrong.
The breeze shifted.
Silver brushed the edge of her senses—thin and familiar. Nythir’s ward. Watching without watching. The realization steadied her in a way she did not yet have language for. Even from afar, he could see past her fake smile. She focused on the warmth of his magic and relaxed a little.
“You’re quiet,” Teren said. “Am I making you nervous?”
Esther shook her head. “No. Just thinking.”
“About?”
“Horse slouching,” she said, unwilling to reveal her thoughts. “Apparently I ride like a parade.”
Teren laughed, amused but not cruel. “He seems protective.”
“Who?” she feigned ignorance.
“Tall one. Stern face. Handsome—but no competition for me.”
Esther smiled helplessly. “That describes eight people in our party.” Except for the handsome part. Nythir was the most attractive.
“Fair,” he said. “But he watches you.”
Her face heated. “He watches everything.”
“He watches you more.”
That did strange things to her chest. Her magic hummed beneath the bracelet.
“I don’t know what you mean,” she muttered.
Teren’s fingers brushed her arm—lightly, too lightly.
Esther stiffened. His touch made her skin crawl.
“You know,” he murmured, “you don’t have to stick with them all night. We could—”
He moved closer. Close enough, she felt his breath.
Physical danger announced itself. Raised voices. Drawn blades. Panic that burned hot and obvious.
This felt quieter.
A look held too long. A smile that lingered past politeness. Words that sounded kind but pressed too close to something fragile inside her. Esther had never been taught how to defend against this.
Resistance had never been framed as an option—only endurance. She knew how to survive discomfort. She did not yet know how to refuse it.
“N–no, thank you,” she said quickly, jumping off the log. “I enjoyed seeing the stream. I should get back to—”
“Hey,” he said, grabbing her wrist.
Her magic flared.
A single spark burst from her fingers and fizzled away like a dying ember.
The bracelet hummed softly, steady and obedient.
It kept her magic in check. It did not keep her safe. Esther realized the distinction with a chill that had nothing to do with the night air. Control over her magic did not mean control over her life.
The words slammed into her chest.
“No,” she gasped, pushing away from him. “Let go—”
“I’m just trying to—”
She couldn’t hear him anymore. The world blurred. Her vision tunneled. The bracelet throbbed with her pulse, trying to keep her magic contained. She didn’t want it included. It made her feel silenced in a whole new way, but she had to rely on it for everyone else.
Esther had wanted freedom more than anything.
She was beginning to understand the price of it.
Freedom meant choosing when to say no—and accepting that some people would hear no as a challenge instead of an answer. “Teren, please—”
A twig snapped.
A voice, cold and edged with steel, cut through the darkness.
“Take your hands off her.”
Esther didn’t have to turn. Didn’t have to breathe. She knew that voice. The words didn’t rescue her. They ended the moment. That mattered more.
Teren released her immediately. “It’s not what it—”
Silver magic rippled like a warning.
And Esther calmed, knowing Nythir had arrived. She hated that relief came so easily—and loved it just the same. One day, she would learn how to protect herself without needing someone else to step between her and the world. Tonight was not that day.