Chapter 19
Elowyn
Icould feel someone’s eyes on me.
The sensation crawled down my spine, sharp and insistent.
I’d been wandering the street market in the City of Falgon for an hour, hood up, doing my best to disappear into the noise and the crowd.
This was the first time I’d left my cottage in the week since I arrived, and already I wanted to bolt right back into isolation.
My gaze flickered over the vendors and passing faces, searching for the source of that prickling awareness. I turned quickly but found no one. The empty space behind me made the hairs on my arms rise. My stomach twisted as I realized what…who I’d been hoping to see.
Abram.
He was never coming for me.
I forced myself to breathe and turned back toward the flower stand… only to freeze.
A man now stood between me and the cart, as if he’d stepped out of the air itself. His back was to me, the black robes he wore stitched with markings that belonged only to nobility. Broad shoulders. Dark hair, neatly styled. A presence that felt intentional.
As if he’d felt my stare, he turned.
Slowly.
Blue eyes met mine, striking, cold, assessing. And gods… he was handsome. Too handsome, in a way that stole the breath from my throat.
He grinned at me, surprised. He stared at me and Nyxthra hissed at him. What the hell is he staring at like that?
“You cut me in line,” I said softly.
He glanced at the flowers, then back at me, a wide grin pulling at his mouth.
“I’m sorry. I’m not sure how I missed you.” His gaze lingered on my face as I pushed my hood back.
“Well, you see me now. Get behind me.”
He raised his brows and let out a low chuckle.
“Yes, ma’am.”
He stepped behind me, but I could feel his stare burning into my back. I looked over my shoulder and caught him watching me.
“Can I help you?” I asked.
“Have we met before?”
“I doubt it.”
He tilted his head, that grin spreading, like he’d just put something together.
“No, we didn’t meet. But I saw you in Falgon not long ago. Your grumpy husband yelled at me in the street… told me you were married.”
My head snapped toward him as I really looked at him. Gods, it was him. His eyes drifted over the market as if expecting something to leap out of the shadows. This felt odd.
“Is he going to come out and yell at me again?” he chuckled.
“No. He’s my ex-husband.” The words tasted bitter.
He frowned at me. “Why is that?”
“He found his real mate. And it wasn’t me.”
His dark brows pinched as he watched me. After a moment, he nodded softly as if he couldn’t find the right words. He turned back toward the vendor cart and stayed quiet for a long time.
“I was staring at you that night,” he said at last, exhaling like he’d confessed a sin. “I’d never seen a woman so beautiful that it stole the air from my lungs.”
My cheeks heated instantly. I glanced over at him, caught off guard.
“I didn’t blame your husband for staking his claim on you. I would’ve done the same.” He laughed under his breath. “What are the odds that we meet again like this?”
“I don’t know. It is… odd,” I admitted.
“Maybe it’s fate.” He smiled with a mischievous glint in his eyes.
My chest thudded. Something about him pulled at me, tugging on threads I didn’t want touched.
“I don’t believe in fate,” I said flatly.
His smile didn’t falter. “That’s all right. Fate doesn’t need your belief to work.”
I said nothing. He let the silence breathe for a minute before stepping forward to stand beside me.
“Good. I’d hate for you to think I only noticed you because the universe told me to.”
Was he flirting with me? I didn’t know what to do with that, didn’t know what I was supposed to feel. It hadn’t even been long since Abram found his mate and I left. Maybe the moon goddess was trying to throw me a rope. Maybe I was too raw to take it.
I glanced up at him and let out a long, tired sigh.
“Do you flirt with everyone?” I asked. “You’re being very forward.”
“Should I tone it down?” he offered. “I can try again and be shy, reserved? I’ll be whatever you want me to be.” His eyes never left mine.
“I’m not interested.”
I looked away. He clicked his tongue.
“Because of this ex-husband?” he asked.
“Yes.”
He let out a soft sigh, and I refused to look up at him. My throat was tight, my stomach knotted, but I stepped forward when the line moved.
“You know, maybe you wouldn’t be so sad about this ex-husband if you let me take you out. As a friend of course.”
I looked at him, really looked, trying to understand what the hell this man wanted with me. He didn’t fidget or look away; he just held still and let me assess him like he had nothing to hide.
“Maybe fate is trying to tell us something by making us cross paths again.”
The words struck deeper than they should have.
My chest ached like someone pressed a thumb hard against a bruise.
Was this fate working? I glanced around at the bustling streets—the vendors shouting, the scent of bread and flowers, the swirl of voices.
All of it kept moving while I felt stuck, suspended between heartbreak and… something else.
Would I ever move on from Abram if I didn’t try?
He was probably already madly in love with his mate. The thought carved a raw line straight through me. Tears stung my eyes, and I blinked rapidly, trying to force them back.
“How about I make you a deal.” His voice cut into my spiraling.
When I looked back at him, he was watching me with a curious, steady expression.
“If we cross paths again, you’ll let me take you out. Because I believe that if something happens three times it is not a coincidence.”
I opened my mouth, ready to refuse, ready to tell him to leave me alone, but nothing came out. The truth was ugly and small: I didn’t have anything else going on. I’d gather my supplies, go home, and stare at my cottage walls wondering if Abram had already forgotten me.
Did Loma already erase my memory?
“Alright, deal,” I agreed softly.
He smiled almost like he didn’t expect me to give in.
“May I know your name?”
“Elowyn Ashgrave.”
“Well, Elowyn Ashgrave, I am Lord Philip, but you may just call me Philip if you’d like.”
He stuck out his hand. I hesitated, then slipped mine into his. A strange pulse of power snapped through me, faint, familiar, unsettling. His grin widened when he let me go.
“I look forward to our date.”
“If we run into each other again.”
“When we do,” he corrected me and turned away, leaving me standing in the line by myself.
I couldn’t help watching him go. Women’s gazes followed him as he passed; men dipped respectful nods. He carried himself like a man who got whatever he wanted.
And gods help me, he would make sure we ran into each other again.
The worst part? As stupid as it sounded… It felt like I was betraying Abram.
I looked at the flowers in the cart and suddenly didn’t want any.
My vision blurred as tears pooled behind my eyes, threatening to spill over.
Abram. Every memory of him clawed its way to the surface, ruthless and unrelenting.
Loma got everything I had ever wanted. Why was she so much better for him than I was?
I bolted through the crowded streets, my hood clinging to my damp hair as I pushed through throngs of oblivious people.
My chest ached, every heartbeat sharp and heavy as I fought to keep myself together until I could reach the sanctuary of my cabin, tucked deep in the woods where no one could follow.
The rushing river beside the path swallowed my first sob, but it did little to calm the storm inside me.
I wasn’t paying attention. My foot caught on an exposed tree root, and I went down hard onto my knees.
The earth smelled of wet leaves and pine, grounding me, but it did nothing to stop the sobs that finally tore free.
I didn’t want to feel like this anymore.
It had been a little over a week without Abram, and I had a lifetime to go.
I was living in my own fucking nightmare.
I closed my eyes, letting my mind torture me further. The thought of Abram and Loma together, the things he had done with me now shared with her, pressed against my chest like a boulder.
A sharp, unforgiving noise jolted me upright. My breath caught, my heart thudding painfully in my chest. Was it the wind? Or something else? I froze, straining to hear.
The noise came again, something being thrown, something colliding with wood or stone. I rose cautiously, glancing around. Then I heard a woman. At first, I thought she was crying, but the tone was sharp, almost furious.
Silently, I crept through the thick forest, the pine needles biting at my ankles, until the trees opened to a small clearing.
There, a woman with bright red hair was flinging objects at a dress staked to a tree.
Her movements were furious, and something about the scene drew my gaze as if I weren’t meant to look away.
The woman muttered as she worked. Was she talking to herself, or to the dress? I wasn’t sure. I stepped forward cautiously.
She paced, spinning around, flipping off the dress, and maybe the heavens themselves.
“Are you alright?” I asked softly.
The woman froze, then whipped around. Her pretty face fell into surprise. Her light brown eyes widened as they met mine. She was short, curvy, and stunning, every movement sharp with frustration yet somehow graceful.
“I thought I was alone.”
I took a hesitant step closer and smirked. “Can I ask why you are so pissed off at a dress?”
She glanced over her shoulder and laughed, a sound both bitter and musical. “It’s more who gave me the dress that makes me hate it.”
I cocked my head as I stepped forward. “Who gave it to you, an ex?”
She shook her head. “My husband.”
My eyebrows shot up in surprise. I glanced at the dress again. It was beautiful, expensive fabric, and yet the woman fidgeted nervously under my gaze. Her blue dress now wasn’t nearly as fine.
“Forgive me if I am wrong, but shouldn’t you like gifts from your husband?”