Chapter 2
Elira
I woke in the bed, blinking against the morning light.
And I sighed.
I’m still here.
Beside me, Leo lay curled toward me—close but not touching. His hand had drifted toward where I’d been, like he’d reached for me in his sleep.
I stared at him for a long moment, trying to remember what it felt like to feel safe with him. Warm. Whole.
I wanted to.
But the feeling didn’t come.
So I pulled back.
I turned away, carefully. Then slid out of the bed without a sound.
The hallway was quiet as I tiptoed to the bathroom at the far end. It was larger than mine—polished marble, gilded sconces, light spilling in like it belonged to someone else.
I stood in front of the mirror, searching my reflection for something I could hold on to.
Who am I now?
I washed my face. Tied my hair back. Movements that felt like routine, even though nothing about me felt normal.
As I reached for the tie, my wolf pendant slipped from beneath my shirt.
I froze.
Fingers brushed the carved wood, worn smooth with time.
I remembered the day he gave it to me.
Finn.
We’d been together a year. A full year since he’d ‘found’ me. He said it was my birthday. We didn’t have anything—no cake, no money, not even real names.
But he carved me this.
My wolf.
My first gift.
I stared at it for a moment longer. Then slowly tucked it back beneath my shirt, hidden from view.
Out of sight. Where it couldn’t hurt me.
I dressed simply—pants, a shirt, boots that still carried dust from somewhere else. Somewhere that felt more like me.
The halls were too bright.
Colours leapt from the tapestries, from the stained-glass windows, from the polished stone. Everything here gleamed like a place untouched by grief.
I followed the patterns in the tiles down to the carved wooden staircase, head low.
A few servants passed me in the corridor, nodding with too-gentle smiles.
“Good morning, Miss Elira.”
“How are you today, Miss Elira?”
I pulled in tighter. Arms crossed. Shoulders drawn.
I didn’t answer.
I wasn’t angry at them. I just didn’t know how to answer them.
I slipped into the kitchen.
Slade was already there—seated quietly at the table like he'd been waiting.
He didn’t say a word, but he’d set a place. A plate of warm food.
Our eyes met. He simply gestured to the chair.
I nodded once and sat.
My hand found the spoon without thinking. I brought food to my mouth and swallowed.
What it was, I couldn’t say. Everything tasted like ash.
I pushed the food around my plate, more out of habit than hunger.
The clack of heels on polished stone broke the stillness.
I didn’t need to look up to know it was her.
The Queen.
When she entered the room, she hesitated.
I felt it before I saw it—the stillness in the air. I tensed.
I didn’t look up right away. But I heard her move, the soft rustle of silk, the measured grace of someone who’d been taught not to stumble.
She crossed the room and took the seat directly across from me at the long table.
I glanced up, briefly.
She was dressed in swathes of green and gold—rich colours that caught the morning light and made her look too bright for a room this quiet.
Her gown was perfectly tailored, her posture flawless.
Rings adorned nearly every finger, gemstones catching the light like tiny, watching eyes.
She looked like a queen.
And I felt like a crack in the wall.
She offered me a small smile.
“Good morning, Elira,” she said, her voice soft—careful, like I might shatter.
“Good morning,” I replied, my voice rough with disuse.
It sounded strange in the quiet. Like it didn’t belong to me.
Behind her, I heard footsteps.
Jasper entered first, followed by Maddie and Leo.
Leo’s eyes found mine immediately—sharp with concern. He took the seat beside me without a word.
Maddie hesitated, her gaze flicking over me like she was checking for bruises she couldn’t see. Then she slid quietly into the seat next to Jasper.
“Morning,” she said gently.
I offered her a small smile—thin, automatic. It didn’t reach my eyes.
There were too many people here now. I pulled my arms in tight and hunched my shoulders, shrinking without meaning to.
The Queen’s smile faltered, just slightly.
“So,” she said, her voice too light, too hopeful. “I have good news. Some of the local provinces—Sorrowsea and Velmere among them—have expressed interest in meeting you.”
My stomach twisted.
“I was thinking,” she continued, “perhaps a ball. Or a dinner. Something small. Gentle.”
Leo cast me a quick look.
I closed my eyes. The word ball hit like a stone in my chest.
No.
“Are you sure that’s a good idea, Your Majesty?” Leo asked, his tone careful—but not without an edge.
“They’re valuable allies,” Jasper said gently, reaching out to touch the Queen’s hand in a quiet gesture of reassurance. “It would be good to get them on our side.”
Syrena smiled at him—grateful, if a little too quickly.
Like she needed someone to agree with her. Like she needed this to work.
Phoenix entered the room, pausing in the doorway. “Well,” he said dryly, “what cheerful conversation did I miss this time?”
No one answered.
He limped slightly as he crossed the floor, still recovering, though he refused to admit it. He poured himself a glass of water, took one long sip, and arched a brow in my direction.
“You look like you’re about to bolt,” he said, not unkindly. Just... blunt.
I looked away.
“Her majesty would like to put on a ball,” Slade said finally.
Phoenix looked at Syrena. “A ball? Why?”
Syrena sighed, folding her hands in her lap like she was holding something delicate.
“Prince Caelen and his father, Dante, in particular, command some of the strongest fleets left in the world. They were once loyal friends to Virell… before everything fell. You and Caelen—” she hesitated, her eyes flicking to mine, “—you were close once. I thought seeing someone familiar might help.” Her voice softened. “I’d like to see them again.”
I swallowed, forcing my arms to remain at my sides. “No one is stopping you.”
She flinched, just barely—but I saw it. The hurt behind her royal mask.
The silence that followed stretched too long.
“I wasn’t trying to force you,” Syrena said, her voice quiet. “You wouldn’t be alone. Maddie, Leo, Slade and Phoenix —they’d all be there. We’d keep it small. Safe.”
Safe.
Safe. As if that word still meant something. As if it hadn’t already shattered.
I stared down at the table, tracing a line in the grain with my finger. “I don’t remember him,” I said. “Caelen. Or Dante. Or anything before Vael.”
A flicker of pain crossed her face. “I know.”
“Then stop pretending this is a reunion,” I added, sharper than I meant to. “It’s a negotiation. Just say it.”
Phoenix leaned forward slightly. “She’s not wrong.”
Syrena’s gaze snapped to him—then softened, as if she were too tired to argue.
“I’m not pretending,” she said at last. “But yes. We need them. We need ships, soldiers, safe trade routes. And you... you are our best hope.”
My hands curled into fists in my lap. I hated the way that word felt in my mouth. Hope. It wasn’t a gift—it was a burden people handed you like chains.
“We could even get you some new clothes. Maybe a new dress.” She said hopefully.
Leo’s hand brushed mine under the table. Just the edge of his fingers. Steady. Quiet.
“It might not be the worst thing to get a change of scenery,” he murmured in my ear.
“I’ll wear the dress,” I said finally, still not looking at her. “Smile for the right people. Say the right things. But don’t ask me to pretend to be happy.”
Syrena exhaled—relief, guilt, exhaustion, maybe all three. “That’s all I ask.”
Jasper stood then, clearing his throat. “I’ll inform the council. They’ll need time to prepare invitations.”
Syrena gave a nod, regal again in an instant. “Thank you.”
Phoenix muttered something under his breath and downed the rest of his water. Slade hadn't moved, but I could feel the weight of his gaze on me—protective, unreadable.
The Queen rose and began to leave, her silks whispering over the floor like smoke.
Just before she reached the door, she paused.
“I know this isn’t what you wanted, Elira,” she said softly, not turning around. “But maybe it’s what we need.”
Then she was gone.