6. Elena
Hannah sits cross-legged on my bed, watching me with that patient, unnervingly perceptive stare of hers. I’ve been avoiding this conversation since I visited the cells, but there’s no escaping her—not when she’s already made up her mind to dig the truth out of me.
I take a deep breath. “Fine. I’ll tell you.”
Her eyebrows rise, but she says nothing.
“I saw something,” I begin, my voice barely above a whisper.
“In the cell. It was fast, like flashes or… visions.” The memory cuts through me like ice.
“A chessboard. A kneeling silhouette. My crown is buried somewhere, snow everywhere, like it had been forgotten.” I swallow. “Like I’d been forgotten.”
Hannah’s brows pull together. “What do you think it means?”
I lift a shoulder. “I don’t know. But since then, there’s this… this feeling. Like something’s coming. And I can’t shake it.”
I have never uttered a word about the time I spent with the Ancient. Even now, it sounds too unbelievable, too unreal, to say aloud. But the fragments remain. The uncertainty. And her whisper, soft and sharp: One will fall.
I get it now.
There is always silence before the world breaks.
She’s silent for a few seconds, then: “Have you talked to Alexei yet?”
It’s a question that hits harder than it should. I feel her staring into the side of my face. I say nothing.
Her tone lifts, sharp and accusing. “You haven’t told him, have you?”
I catch my bottom lip between my teeth. “…no.”
Hannah’s whole body jerks in disbelief. “El—why haven’t you said something?”
Heat rises up my neck and to my cheeks. Guilt wraps heavily around my chest. Why haven’t I? I’ve been asking myself the same thing ever since the vision. It’s embarrassing that I can’t even give myself a good excuse.
I tell myself it’s because Alexei hasn’t told me everything either, that there’s something he’s keeping from me too. But that’s a lie, and I know it.
The truth is messier, pettier, more frightened. After he left, yes, to stop my grandfather and Kravino, a part of me couldn’t stop wondering if Wendell’s escape triggered that same instinct in him. That instinct to protect by disappearing, to handle the danger alone.
I’m not stupid. Alexei is far more capable than I am when it comes to strategy and threats, and security. But knowing that doesn’t soften the fear that he could vanish again, leaving me staring at the place he once stood.
Sometimes in the middle of the night, I wake up drenched in sweat, reaching for him as if he might be torn from me at any moment.
Kravino’s words echo in my head, vile and suffocating.
I trace the scars on Alexei’s shoulder, both from the bullet and from the cruel cut of Kravino’s knife, and every time, something inside me aches.
He did all of it to protect me because he loves me.
That doesn’t erase the sting of when I thought he’d left because he didn’t want me. Because he wanted Clara instead. I snort internally at the thought, now that I understand the brother-sister bond between them, but the bruise lingers.
I let out a long, shaky sigh. “I’m afraid that if I tell him everything… he’ll want to take off again. Handle it on his own.”
“Oh, El,” Hannah exclaims softly. She scoots in close and puts an arm around my shoulders. “I get why you’d feel that way. But I really think Alexei learned his lesson.”
“He has always protected me from danger first,” I answer.
“You have too,” she points out, bumping my shoulder.
I groan and bury my face in my hands. “We make a great pair, don’t we?”
Hannah laughs. “Yes. Because you two have the kind of love people dream about. Like Bray and me.”
I glance at her, grateful, more than grateful, for the topic shift. “How are you and Braydon?”
Immediately, her expression softens, dreamy and warm. “Great. And excited since we’re double-dating with you and Alexei tonight.” She tilts her head. “We’re still on for tonight, right?”
I nod. Honestly, I’ve been clinging to the promise of an evening free of budgets, diplomacy, or discussions about Wendell and his obsessive revenge. “Yes. I’m looking forward to it.”
Hannah beams, practically vibrating. “You know we’ll have been together a year next month.”
My eyes shoot wide. “A year? Already?”
She nods, her attempt to hide her excitement hilariously poor. “I love him, El.”
“Love him as in… marry-him love him?”
She nods again, this time with zero hesitation. “Do you think he feels the same way? That he sees a future with me?” Her face flickers with uncertainty, tightening her mouth.
A laugh bubbles out of me automatically. “Hannah, the man adores you.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really.” I squeeze her closer, letting her feel the sincerity in my grip.
A soft knock on the door interrupts us.
Speak of the devil, Braydon pokes his head inside. Immediately, Hannah’s cheeks bloom pink. His eyes skim over me with polite acknowledgement before they lock on her like she’s the only person in the universe. How she doubts his feelings, I’ll never understand.
“Is there something you need…” I tease.
Braydon’s gaze snaps to me. He clears his throat, flustered. “Uh, yes. Sorry. You have a visitor.”
“An actual visitor you want to see,” Hannah mutters, “or one her queenly duties require?”
“Hannah,” I chide, amused.
The door swings wider, and Braydon steadies himself by grabbing the doorframe.
“It better be because I’m a visitor she wants to see.”
Zoe strides in like she owns the place. Her outfit is a chaotic blend of eclectic fabrics and hippie flair: a flowing, layered skirt, mismatched jewelry, a denim vest sporting an array of colorful, hand-stitched patches, with streaks of bright pink woven through her dark curls.
Braydon watches her with that fixed stare that screams, how is this woman useful, but he only shakes his head and meets my eyes. I smile and nod, dismissing him. He backs out immediately and closes the door behind him.
“Hello, ladies! Auntie Zoe’s here.” She smiles broadly as she drops her homemade jean bag onto a chair, waltzing deeper into the room.
Hannah slips her arm from around me and rushes forward to hug her.
Zoe has always been a bit kooky, blurting out whatever comes into her head, rarely filtering anything she says.
Maybe it’s her ability to speak to the dead.
Maybe it’s just her. And since she discovered the truth about our orphanage childhood, she’s taken to declaring herself “Aunt” with a kind of pride that warms something in me I hadn’t realized was still there.
Honestly, we love her. She’s unapologetically herself, undaunted by any noble opinion or whisper, and a small part of me is tempted to take her along to afternoon tea with the court, just for the messages she’d pass along to the horrified nobility.
Zoe releases Hannah from a tight hug and turns her warm smile on me.
Then she slowly takes in the room, every detail of it, like she’s walking through it for the first time.
Her gaze sweeps the deep brown shelves, the heavy curtains draped like velvet waterfalls, the marbled floors polished to a shine.
She lets out a low whistle. “I swear this room gets fancier every time I see it.” Her hand glides across the back of the settee as if testing the fabric for royalty.
“This is the same as the last time you saw it,” I reply.
Zoe hums doubtfully, scanning again. “Huh. Maybe I just never noticed before.”
Hannah shakes her head, a grin flashing across her face. I know exactly what she’s remembering in that moment, the way we both stared wide-eyed the first time we stepped inside this palace, shocked that places like this could be real.
This room—the library—is still my favorite place. It’s where I come for quiet, for schoolwork, for breathing space, for a moment free from the weight of the crown. My escape, hidden in plain sight.
Zoe finally tears herself from the endless shelves of books and fixes her attention on me. “Where’s that honey of yours?”
I laugh under my breath. The first time she met Alexei, she whistled loud enough to rattle the windows, declared him a fine specimen, and told me if I hadn’t already “locked him down,” she would’ve gladly offered him space to place his boots under her bed.
He’d almost choked on his own breath as he tried not to react.
Zoe shuffles around the settee and plops down beside Hannah, her entire presence a little thunderstorm of energy.
“Alright, my dear girl,” she says, crossing her legs and settling in. “Tell me what was so important that I had to jump on a plane immediately to get here.”
I blow out and take a deep breath, composing myself. “I tried using my abilities,” I begin. “To see if I could… force a vision. To get a clue that might help us.”
Zoe nods slowly, intently. But I know what has caught her attention. She’s listening to more than just me; the dead are murmuring to her too, their invisible presence tugging at her attention in quiet ways.
“A clue to aid you how?” she presses, not about to let me dodge the truth.
My gaze flicks to Hannah. She gives me a small, encouraging nod.
It’s not Zoe I’m worried about. It’s Alexei.
When he finds out she’s here, because he will, he’ll know I’m keeping something from him.
My only hope is convincing him she’s here to help me “train,” not because of what happened in the cell.
“One of the men who tried to hurt me months ago… escaped.” My mouth twist at knowing he’s out there right now, plotting ways to hurt me or someone that I love. “He had help, but we don’t know who’s responsible.”
Zoe’s fingers drum against the arm of the settee as I explain it all: Wendell’s betrayal, his partnership with my grandfather, the former security agent, all of it. Her brows knit tighter with each detail.
“Were you able to obtain a clue?” she asks. “A vision?”
“Yes.” I nod. “But not in the way I’m used to.”
The rest spills from me, the cold seeping into my room when I opened my mind, that same icy dread in the cell, and the fragmented flashes I saw when I pried my mind open again, puzzle pieces instead of the full picture.
“What do you think it means?” I ask quietly.
Zoe leans back. “Your visions before were always complete, yes? Full scenes?”
I nod again.
“Then why wouldn’t it do the same now?” Hannah asks.
Zoe lifts a brow at her, grinning. “Because, my dear, whether it’s chatting with the dead or something as supernatural as Elena’s visions, there’s no rhyme or reason to what we’re shown. Powers such as ours do not like rules.”
“Yes, but you somehow manage to pull information out of the dead and solve murders,” argues Hannah.
Zoe cackles softly. “Yes, child, but if I had full control, I would’ve solved thousands of murders, not ten. I may speak to the dead, but Elena’s gift is far more advanced, and far more unpredictable.”
“Are you saying I’ll never be able to control it?” I ask.
Her eyes shine, her fingers going still with excitement that vibrates through her. “Not necessarily. I think what happened wasn’t a setback, it was the opposite.”
“How?” I breathe.
“My theory has always been that your visions respond to your internal alarm,” she explains. “If it were only danger-based, you’d never have had the ice cream shop vision that helped uncover the clues about your grandfather. Your preservation instincts fuel the visions.”
Hannah raises her hands. “Okay, but Wendell wants to harm El and Alexei. Why wouldn’t her preservation trigger a full vision now?”
I’m grateful, so grateful, that she’s thinking exactly what I am.
Zoe pats her knee, her attention returning to me. “Because I have another theory. I think you only received puzzle pieces because the one pulling the strings hasn’t made their decision yet.”
Hannah snorts. “It’s pretty clear they intend to come after El.”
Zoe’s eyebrow goes up. “Is it? Or is it possible their motive was simply to free Wendell? Flee the country and start over?”
Hannah’s scowl deepens. “Unlikely.”
I let out a sigh. “I agree. Wendell isn’t the type to just walk away and rebuild a nice little life somewhere. And we’ve found nothing suggesting he has enough power or connections to pull off an escape like this.”
Zoe nods, slapping her palm lightly against her lap. “Which means my original theory stands: the decision hasn’t been made yet. So, you only saw possibilities, not certainties.”
My throat tightens. “Then what about the fragments I saw?”
“They’re potential outcomes,” she replies hesitantly. “Each one depends upon a choice that has not been made yet.” Her face darkens. “You said the chessboard was missing a piece.”
I swallow hard. “The king piece, it was gone.”
Hannah notices the emotion in my voice. The fear. The panic I’ve hidden because the idea of losing Alexei again is the one thing I can’t bear to tell him, not after last time. My pulse spikes just remembering it.
Zoe releases a slow breath, her tone gentle. “A missing piece doesn’t always mean death.”
“What could it mean?” Hannah asks.
“It could mean he’s simply not part of the equation,” Zoe replies.
A cold rush sweeps up my spine. Not part of the equation. Could that be what I’ve been afraid of? That he’ll decide to handle this alone again?
That my fear, my preservation, is what triggered these fragments?
Not part of the equation.
The words echo, knocking loose memories I’d been trying not to examine too closely.
Alexei walking away.
The tightness in his jaw when he’d decided something I wasn’t supposed to know. Every promise he’d made to protect me—even when I’d never asked him to.
My pulse stumbles.
What if the missing piece isn’t death? What if it’s absence? What if he chooses to leave...because he thinks it’s the only way to keep me safe?
“You mean… taking action on his own,” I whisper.
Hannah catches my eye, her face uncertain.
“It’s possible,” Zoe says. “Or it could have nothing to do with him at all.”
Hannah’s eyes remain locked with mine, though her words are to Zoe. “And everything to do with El.”
The air shifts, settling heavily around us. No one says it, but we all feel it. Especially when I add the buried crown in the snow… the kneeling silhouette… the scream.
Zoe leans forward, her expression sharpening as she studies me. “If this is about you, I won’t let it happen.” Then her eyes ignite with determination. “You’ve already proven you’re a strong pupil. Your abilities are growing, Elena. Now we just need to capitalize on it.”
I nod slowly, a quiet resolve threading through me.
Whatever it takes to protect the people I love, I will do it.
And with Zoe and Hannah present, I know it’s something I won't have to go through alone.