12. Elena
“How much longer?” I ask before he can deliver any bad news.
Four days in Petrova since my arrival. Four days of silence, waiting, and wondering what might happen next. This is the first time I’ve heard Alexei’s voice since he was sequestered. Relief hits first, sharp and dizzying, but anger follows close behind. Nothing is resolved. Not really.
“I don’t know, Elena,” he admits, my name falling from his lips a confession. “Hopefully soon.”
I close my eyes.
“I miss you,” I breathe, my voice softening despite myself. I hope he hears the smile that slips through. “Are you okay?”
“I am,” he says, quieter now. “Now that they’ve finally cleared the call, I can hear your voice.”
A heavy sigh escapes me. Silence follows. It lingers for a beat.
“How are you?” he asks.
My teeth catch on my lower lip. “Better. Talking to you helps.” I glance out the window of my guest room as my grip tightens around the phone. “I’m relieved they’ve already cleared you of the treason charge.”
Silence stretches between us before he asks, “Dad?”
I shake my head even though he can’t me. “Prince Weston called.”
Silence falls on the other end immediately. I pull the phone back, checking the screen to make sure I haven’t lost the call.
“Alexei?”
“I’m here,” he says roughly. A strained breath. “He told you about the evidence.”
“He did.” I press my palm flat on the cool windowpane. “I thanked him. For helping you. For doing what he could so I could come home too.” A low grunt answers me. My brows draw together. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
His words come out fast and tight.
“Is there something I should know?”
“I don’t want to talk about the prince anymore,” he says abruptly before forcing his tone lighter. “We don’t have much time before they pull me back. Are you… staying out of trouble?”
There’s teasing in his voice because he knows trouble finds me whether I invite it or not.
I huff softly. “If walking the palace gardens counts as trouble, then yes. Guilty as charged.”
“The gardens?”
I can picture the curve of his smile. He knows how much I hate stillness. Guards. Quiet.
“They’re beautiful,” I admit. “Too beautiful. I walk them twice a day just to keep them busy. Arabella took Hannah and me riding, Lizzie insists it’ll calm my nerves.”
“Lizzie’s right.”
I let out a slow breath. “She is.” Then, with more truth than humor, “Alexei… if I have to lay low for another few days, I might actually lose my mind. I want to come home. I want to come home to you.”
I close my eyes and picture him, the way his blue eyes darken to that deep cobalt whenever he’s feeling too much. The fire there. The way I know he misses me as fiercely as I miss him.
“I want nothing more than that,” he says, his voice rough with emotion.
The silence that follows isn’t empty. It’s full of everything we’re not allowed to say.
“They’re still monitoring the calls,” he reminds me gently. “At least until tomorrow. The theft charge should be cleared by then, but until it is?—”
“I know,” I cut in softly. “Less is more.”
He clears his throat. “Have you… spent much time near the roses?”
My breath catches at the subtle dip in his voice as he utters the last word.
Rose.
The letter. The warning.
The phone nearly slips from my hand. No. That’s impossible. We haven’t spoken. I haven’t told Fletcher. Or Hannah.
Which means someone sent him a message too.
It’s an opening. A risk. One he’s choosing to take.
I don’t answer immediately, forcing my pulse to slow as I remain painfully aware that, even through the phone, he might hear it.
“Yes,” I say finally. “I’ve looked at the roses.” I pause, choosing my words carefully. “They’re beautiful here. Different from ours. Fuller. Like they’ve been growing undisturbed for a very long time.”
“Do you think,” he asks, each carefully deliberate, “we should have some like that at home?”
“Yes.” My pause is shorter this time. “I think that would be a good idea.”
We exhale at the same time. “I agree.”
We don’t say anything else. We don’t need to.
“Elena, be careful,” he says, his voice firm with worry. “The gardens are lovely, but it’s easy to forget who might be watching.”
“I will,” I promise, pulling my hand from the glass. “I hate this. Staying still. Staying quiet.”
“I know.” His voice lowers. “But stay low a little longer. For me.”
“For you,” I repeat, a quiet laugh slipping free. “You’re the only one I’d do this for.”
“Anything for us,” he says. “We’re close, Elena. We’ll get to the bottom of it.”
“I know.”
A heavy sigh drifts through the receiver. “I have to go.”
I don’t want this call to end, not when I don’t know when we’ll speak again… or when I’ll see him again. The thought of spending more days apart twists my stomach with anger and dread.
The line hums between us, charged with everything left unsaid.
“Alexei,” I murmur. “You’re my whole world. You know that, right?”
There’s a pause. “Just the world?”
My lips curve, my reflection faint in the glass. “Asking for eternity? A little greedy.”
“When it comes to you,” he says, I can hear the smile in his voice, “yes.”
My heart swells.
“Nothing remotely compares to what I feel for you, Elena.”
I hear the pain in his voice—the distance, the restraint, everything we can’t have right now.
“I love you more,” I reply, without hesitation. “We’ll see each other soon.”
“Soon,” he echoes. “Elena?”
“Yes?”
“Be careful.”
“I will. You too.”
The call ends, but the warmth of his voice lingers, settling deep within my chest.
Whatever’s blooming beneath the surface, whatever the roses are really meant to reveal, we’re already too close to the truth to turn back now.
They targeted my husband.
They won’t get away with it.
If they want a fight…
Then a fight they’ll get.
The cool air grazes my skin, offering a faint relief against the heat still trapped beneath my skin. It should calm me.
It doesn’t.
Alexei’s voice lingers—steady, familiar, grounding. Hearing that he’s safe loosens something tight in my chest. But the relief is thin, fragile.
Beneath it, something sharper coils beneath the surface, alert and watchful.
Whoever is pulling the strings isn’t hiding anymore. They’re nudging us. Testing how we respond. How far they can push before we push back.
I thought the gardens would help. Open space. Fresh air. Something living and real.
Instead, my blouse clings to my skin, the fabric pulling tight across my ribs. Each breath feels measured, controlled. I tug at my collar, but the pressure doesn’t give. It’s not the clothing—it’s the stillness. The waiting.
Lie low. Stay quiet.
I’ve memorized Petrova’s palace corridors. Counted the turns. Traced the same stone paths until they all blur together. Locked away in my room between guarded walks and glowing screens, attending meetings and classes that do nothing to settle my racing mind.
Even my coursework, usually a refuge, sits untouched, the words swimming uselessly before my eyes.
“Queen Elena!”
The call snaps me out of it.
I turn away from the roses, those full, unnaturally perfect blooms, and the message threaded through them like a warning. My fingers close around the charm at my throat. I rub it reflexively, grounding myself through muscle memory, but my pulse refuses to slow.
I’ve tried. After the call with Alexei, I tried again and again, reaching out with my abilities, pushing beyond the surface, demanding more. Every attempt slams me back into the same image.
The photograph.
Static. Blurred edges. Locked tight.
Zoe couldn’t get past it either. She stays close to Fletcher and Alexei now, quiet and careful. Watching without being seen. My mother hasn’t tried to reach out to her again. She believes the rose isn’t finished speaking yet, that it’ll reveal itself when the time is right.
Timing.
More waiting.
I swallow my frustration just as Arabella comes into view, her smile bright as Hannah walks beside her. I straighten instinctively, but Hannah’s smile falters the moment she looks at me. Her brows draw together, her eyes scanning my face with unsettling perception.
“Why, Lady Arabella,” I say quickly, forcing a note of ease into my tone, “I didn’t expect to find you in the gardens.”
“I finished my studies,” she remarks proudly. “And I wanted to show Hannah my mother’s calla lilies.”
A genuine smile finds me this time. “I’m sure they’re stunning.”
“They are!”
Hannah clears her throat. “Arabella, why don’t you go on ahead? Elena and I will follow.”
Arabella nods before skipping off, with a guard trailing at a distance.
The moment she’s gone, Hannah turns to me, folding her arms. “Alright. What’s wrong?”
I blink. “What?”
Her head tilts. She knows me too well. “You should be glowing after your call with Alexei. Instead, you look like you’re ready to start a war. What happened?”
I let out a sharp breath. “It’s going to be a few more days.”
Her jaw tightens. “And the charges?”
“Treason’s cleared,” I tell her. “They’re still chasing the theft.”
She scoffs. “Alexei doesn’t steal.” She grins. “Unless it’s my best friend’s heart.”
I roll my eyes. “I know.” My fingers catch on my collar again. I tug at it. “I can’t do this, Hannah. Not for days. Sitting. Waiting. Pretending I’m fragile.”
“You’re not,” she argues immediately. “And we’ll figure something out.”
I glare at her. “If you say we should ride horses again, I swear I’ll push you into the rose bushes.”
She snorts. “Please. Those beasts hate me.”
Despite myself, a small laugh escapes. “So?” I ask. “What are you thinking?”
Her smile turns slow and knowing. Dangerous. “When we needed space at the orphanage, when we wanted out without being seen, what did we do?”
I raise a brow. “You want to sneak out of a fortified palace.”
“It worked then.”
My gaze drifts back toward the roses. Their color is vivid. Too intentional. “A hat and sunglasses aren’t going to cut it.”
She steps closer. “Most of Petrova knows you through tabloids from a distance. Tie your hair back. Big glasses. Walk like you belong.”
I hesitate. “I don’t go anywhere without security. And if this gets back to Alexei?—”