31. Elena
The palace gates groan open, iron scraping against stone, and the convoy spills into the courtyard like survivors of a shipwreck.
The air still tastes like salt, smoke, and something metallic that won’t leave the back of my tongue. Blood, maybe.
He’s already there.
Fletcher stands at the top of the palace steps, shoulders squared, hands clasped behind his back, with several members of security descending around him, ready to act if another threat appears out of thin air.
Fletcher’s gaze meets Alexei’s in that infuriatingly calm posture he wears like armor.
The lights from the entry hall spill around him, turning him into a silhouette carved from shadow and gold.
Fletcher doesn’t even look at me when he says, “You two need to be checked out.”
His voice is clipped. Commanding. Not fatherly. Commander. Director of our Security.
“I’m fine,” I snap, even though my ribs protest with every breath. “Everyone else—and Alexei—needs to be checked first.”
Alexei’s jaw ticks. He doesn’t argue the way he usually would. He turns to me, voice low. “I will. I need to speak with Dad first.”
Fletcher’s gaze shifts between us, assessing, calculating. I feel like a piece on a board.
I stare at both of them, heat rising up my neck. They’re doing it again, that silent exchange over my head. The we have something to discuss without you look.
Finally, I give a short nod. “Fine.”
Braydon appears at my side without a word, as we start toward the medical wing.
Only I don’t make it past the marble archway.
Because as soon as Alexei and Fletcher disappear into Fletcher’s private office off the main hall, something inside me twists tight and ugly.
Alexei will want to shield or send me away. I know it. After what happened in the woods with Wendell, he won’t want me anywhere near him and his newfound abilities.
The realization lands heavily in my stomach. Not because he thinks I’m not strong enough. Not because he’s worried.
Because there’s something he doesn’t want me to hear.
I slow my steps.
“I forgot something,” I tell Braydon, already pivoting. “Give me a minute.”
He hesitates. His eyes flick toward the medical corridor, then back to me. He knows that look on my face. He sighs in resignation. “I’ll wait here.”
My steps are softer than they should be against the stone as I hurry back. I know these palace halls in the dark. I know where sound carries better than anywhere else.
By the time I reach the office door, my pulse is hammering loud enough that I’m certain they’ll hear it.
Alexei and Fletcher’s voices filter through the thick wood. Low. Tight.
“…what actually happened,” Alexei inquires. “What do you know about the site? About the stone?”
Fletcher exhales slowly. “Only what was passed down in the Markova history. The water in the cave was dealt with. The stone and the source from which it came were destroyed.”
Alexei drags a hand down his face, a harsh sound escaping his lips. “It wasn’t.”
The silence stretches between them.
“Part of it remained,” Alexei continues. “Enough to grant Wendell considerable abilities.”
Wendell.
I press closer to the door, my breath shallow now.
“How,” Fletcher murmurs, more to himself than anyone else, “after the ancients have been quiet for this long… how is it he’s given something like that?”
“Ancients,” Alexei repeats under his breath, like it’s a problem he hasn’t solved yet. Like it’s a fracture line spreading through everything.
There’s a shift, fabric against leather.
“Are you all right?” Fletcher asks him.
Alexei’s answer doesn’t come immediately.
When it does, his voice is different. Sharper. Stripped of the steady ease he usually wears. “We almost didn’t survive tonight.”
My fingers curl against the doorframe.
“The abilities he’s been granted,” Alexei continues, “they’re earth elemental. He has an advantage. A significant one.”
The words sink into me like cold water.
I had seen what Wendell’s earth elemental powers could do. Within seconds of being granted the ability, no real training, no time to adjust, he easily split the ground open beneath us. The trees bent to his command. The way the forest itself seemed to breathe with him.
“You're worried about Elena,” Fletcher guesses quietly.
The room goes still.
I stop breathing.
Alexei exhales. Long. Heavy. “I need a favor.”
“Anything.”
He hasn’t spoken his next words yet, but they’re already in the air. I can feel them building. I don’t even need my visions to tell me so.
“If something happens to me,” Alexei expresses, and there it is, steady and horrifyingly practical, “I need you to take care of her.”
Fletcher’s chair scrapes faintly against the floor.
“I will always take care of her,” he assures. “But that isn’t something we need to plan for. You’re not going anywhere.”
Alexei’s silence says it all.
And that silence is worse than anything.
“What aren’t you saying?” Fletcher presses.
“I’m preparing for all angles,” Alexei answers, but there’s strain beneath it. “This isn’t about weapons or strategy. This is power that goes beyond anything I’ve trained for.”
There’s the soft thud of Fletcher crossing his arms. I can picture it perfectly. “Abilities are one element of a fight,” he reminds his son. “You’re one of the most strategic men I’ve ever known. I have complete faith in you.”
“I appreciate that,” Alexei murmurs. “I need to know that if I don’t make it?—”
That’s as far as he gets.
I slam the door open. It cracks against the wall, the sound ricocheting off wood.
“So that’s why you were sending me away?” I demand. My voice is shaking, and I hate that it is. “To make contingency plans?”
Both of them turn.
Alexei’s expression flashes from shock to something harder. Defensive. “That’s not why?—”
“It sounds like you know something,” I cut in. “Something you’re not telling me.”
The air in the room tightens between the three of us.
Fletcher looks between us, the tension snapping like a live wire. “I’ll give you two a moment.”
He slips past me, closing the door with a soft click that feels louder than the slam did.
Silence swallows the room between my husband and me.
I don’t move.
“What aren’t you saying?” I demand.
“Elena—”
I lift a hand. “Don’t. Don’t placate me.” My chest feels too small for my lungs. “You’re hiding something. I want to know what it is.”
He studies me for a long moment. His eyes are storm-dark, restless. “Like you haven’t been hiding something from me,” he returns firmly.
The accusation lands squarely between us. We stare at each other. Neither blinking. Neither of us backing down.
Finally, he utters, “You’re not the only one who’s been visited by Inanna.”
The name punches the air straight out of me. My fingers go numb.
“You met her,” I whisper.
“After I drowned.”
The room tilts.
“Wait… you… died?” The word feels foreign in my mouth.
I believed Braydon reached him in time. That the water filled his lungs but never took him fully. That he skirted the edge.
“I did.” His admission is simple, as if he, too, is tired of all the secrets we’ve been keeping from each other. “If it hadn’t been for her intervention, I wouldn’t be here.”
My mind scrambles, trying to stitch that together with the man standing in front of me, warm, breathing, alive.
“After all,” he adds, voice low, “one will fall.”
My heart stutters. “How did you?—”
“Know?” he finishes for me. “She told me about her stepping in after you were shot. About the warning she gave you.”
The words I buried claw their way back up.
One will fall.
I never told him. I told myself it was to protect him. To keep the weight off his shoulders. To pretend it wasn’t real.
“Why didn’t you say anything?” he asks.
Because it felt like the beginning of a countdown. Because I was afraid that if I spoke it aloud, the universe would choose. Because I didn’t know if it was tied to us.
“I—” The excuses crumble before they form. “Why do we keep doing this?” I ask instead, frustration bleeding into the words.
His shoulders drop slightly. The edge in him softens. “Because we’re both wired to protect the people we love.”
The truth of it hurts.
“I don’t want to keep secrets from you,” I confess.
“Neither do I.”
My gaze drops to the floor, tracing the veins in the stone. “When you asked him to protect me…” My throat tightens. “Tell me that’s not what I think.”
Alexei steps closer.
“I died, Elena.”
I shake my head, backing up until the desk digs into my spine. Hearing those words again is a knife to the heart. “No. You’re here. You’re not dead.”
“I asked her to send me back,” he states. “I couldn’t leave you to face this alone.”
A flare of anger burns through the fear. “So that’s it? Are you back on borrowed time? Weeks? Months? Is there no chance this… sticks?”
“I don’t know how it works,” he admits, frustration finally breaking through.
“I won’t lose you.” The words leave me before I can stop them. They feel like a vow.
He closes the distance between us and takes my hands. His palms are warm, solid, and real.
“I don’t want to lose you either,” he affirms. “I will do everything in my power to end this and stay.”
There’s something unfinished in his tone.
“Why does that sound like there’s a but?”
His jaw tightens. “Because I don’t know what the fates decided when I chose to come back. If I fail… someone else could pay the price.”
The implication sinks like a blade between my ribs.
Someone else.
Hannah. Braydon. Clara. Ruslan. So many others.
We’ve always fought to keep collateral at zero. To ensure no one bleeds for our choices.
I see the weight of it on him now; the calculation, the guilt already blooming for a future that hasn’t happened.
My chest tightens, breaths coming in small, heavy gasps. He’s in front of me, so close to touch, yet somehow, I’m already grieving the possibility of losing him again.
I already hate how much silence and distance are expanding between us.