Chapter 4
Elira
The gown itched. And it was heavy.
It didn’t matter that it was silk. Or that the seamstresses had poured hours into the embroidery. Or that it fit like it was made for a queen.
I shifted uncomfortably, yanking at the navy-blue and silver fabric. It swished as I walked through the empty hallways, too loud in the silence.
“You look beautiful,” Maddie said from where she sat on my bed. “Although your hair could maybe…”
I glanced at her.
The journey to Shadowmere had taken its toll on all of us. The scar along her cheek was still fresh—stark against the vibrancy of her violet hair, which she’d swept up into a tidy updo.
She wore a gown of soft dove grey, fitted like it had been made just for her. Beading shimmered across the bodice, subtle but elegant, shaping her figure in a way that made her look older. Stronger.
My own hair hung loose in curls down my back, spilling over the fabric like something unruly. The maids had tried to help, but I’d flicked them away. I didn’t want to be touched.
“It’s fine,” I said, my voice calm—clipped.
“It is,” she agreed quickly, stepping toward me. Her dress swayed softly with the movement. “But… if it’s okay, I could clip it back. Very simple. If you want.”
She held up the silver clasp, its filigree delicate as frost.
Her tone was careful—like she was testing the edge of a wound she couldn’t see.
Internally, I almost rolled my eyes. But outwardly, I just nodded.
“Fine.”
Maddie moved behind me, slow and tentative, as if one wrong motion might send me retreating. Her fingers brushed through my hair, light as breath.
I flinched at the contact—reflexive, unintentional. She stilled. Said nothing.
Then resumed, even gentler than before.
She didn’t take long. Within moments, my hair was pinned up—neat, elegant, distant from my skin.
She stepped back, studying her work, then smiled softly.
“There,” she said. “That’s better. Now you’re perfect.”
“Thanks,” I spoke quietly.
“Is Slade waiting outside?” Maddie asked gently. “Will he be escorting you?”
“Probably,” I muttered.
She smiled faintly. “I’m personally hoping Lacey will be there. She’s stunning. I’m thinking of asking her to dance.”
That earned a glance from me—brief, but sharper than I meant it to be.
Maddie shrugged, a little self-conscious but not embarrassed.
“Someone should have a good night,” Maddie said, not quite looking at me.
“You’re right,” I replied quietly. “I hope you do.”
She looked over at that—surprised, maybe. Then smiled. It was probably the first genuine one I’d seen all night.
“Are you ready to go?” she asked, smoothing down the front of her dress.
I looked toward the door… then back at my room.
“Soon. You go ahead.”
“Elle—”
“I’ll come,” I snapped—sharper than I meant to. “I told the queen I would.”
Her smile faltered. Just for a second. But I saw it—that flicker of hurt she didn’t bother to hide.
“Okay then,” she said softly. “I’ll see you there.”
And just like that, she turned and walked away, leaving me alone with the silence.
I let out a breath and turned back to the mirror. My reflection looked just as tired as I felt.
I wanted to rub my face, erase the edge in my voice. I hadn’t meant to hurt Maddie.
I wasn’t trying to hurt anyone. But lately, it felt like I didn’t know how not to.
I wasn’t stupid or blind. I knew they were trying—every single one of them.
Trying to be patient. To make space. To help.
And it was frustrating the hell out of me.
Even thinking that, I knew the truth. They weren’t the problem.
I was. That’s all I’d ever been.
So why were they still trying so hard to manage me?
The idea of the ball made my skin crawl. I didn’t want to be the centre of attention.
I didn’t want to be admired or coddled or dressed up like something precious.
I just wanted to be left alone.
I could already hear the rising hum of music and voices, the clink of crystal drifting all the way to my room.
Small party, my ass.
Slade had been shadowing me all day. I knew he—or one of the others—would come for me soon. I couldn’t go anywhere in this castle without one of them trailing me.
They meant well. I knew that.
But I still didn’t understand why they cared so much.
They kept looking at me with that same expression—one I couldn’t quite name.
Pity, maybe. Hope. Something I didn’t trust.
I hated seeing it.
I wasn’t some long-lost heir they’d recovered intact. I wasn’t some symbol of rebirth or prophecy fulfilled.
I was just me… I was surviving. Quietly. Barely.
Most days, it still felt like I was dragging the broken pieces of myself behind me, pretending they still made a whole.
I stepped out of my room, finding the hallway empty. I knew which way to go, but I needed to breathe. I needed a moment before they imposed on me. So I turned the other way.
I wasn’t sure where I was going. Only that I needed to go.
I turned down a narrow hall—away from the music, away from the waiting.
The torches here burned lower, the shadows longer. This part of the castle was older, less polished. Less perfect. Like me.
I liked it more.
At the end of the corridor, the space opened into what must have once been a private lounge—wide and quiet, lined with tall bookshelves and thick stone archways.
Tapestries hung along the walls, faded in places, but still rich with colour—deep greens, aged golds.
I stopped in front of one.
A man sat on a throne—crowned and commanding—surrounded by subjects who knelt in reverence. Behind him, in towering glory, stood a hoard of dragons. But it wasn’t the crown or the people that held my gaze.
It was the shadows.
They coiled around him like guardians, not threats. Alive. Watchful. Protective.
Alistair Virell.
I knew the name. But the image was different than I expected. He seemed powerful, but isolated. Alone.
“Beautiful, aren’t they?” A voice broke the silence from behind me. I turned towards the voice.
In front of me stood a man I didn’t recognise.
Or maybe I did. Like a fragment from a dream in my mind.
He was tall, dressed in slate and silver, the kind of effortless elegance that practically screamed diplomacy. His blond hair and tidy beard looked trimmed and neat and his hazel eyes sparkled with warmth.
He was also examining the tapestries that lined the wall in quiet contemplation.
“They are.” I said, quietly, without inflection. My shoulders twitched. “Excuse me.” I said and went to leave.
“No, wait. Ellie …Elira.” He corrected quickly. “You don’t remember me do you?”
“Should I?”
“I would hope so…” he said with a sad sort of smile. “But…”
The realisation struck me. I nodded once, tight. “You must be Prince Caelen.”
His expression shifted, just slightly—nostalgia tempered by caution. “You know me?”
“I’ve heard your name.” I said simply.
He stepped closer, but not too close. I stepped back.
“You’ve grown up a lot.”
“That happens,” I replied, voice dry.
He flushed slightly. “That’s not what I meant. I just… I still see you.”
I stared at him, not sure what to say.
“We used to play together as children,” he said gently. “We were best friends until…”
“Until I was taken.” My voice was flat. Not cruel. Just… empty.
He flinched. The colour drained from his face. “Right,” he said quietly. “Yeah.”
He rubbed the back of his neck, gaze dropping to the stone floor.
“I didn’t mean to bring it up like that,” he muttered. “I just… I’ve thought about you. A lot. Over the years.”
I didn’t answer. What was I supposed to say to that?
He glanced up again, eyes searching.
“There was this tree,” he said, voice softer now. “Just outside the east gate. You used to dare me to climb it. You said the higher we got, the more likely we’d see the dragons. That’s something we always wanted to do.”
A flicker stirred somewhere in the back of my mind—barely a flash. Leaves. Wind. Laughter.
But I shoved it down before it could settle. “I don’t remember,” I said.
He nodded, but disappointment shadowed his face.
“I figured,” he said softly. “Still… it’s good to see you again. Even if you don’t remember me.”
“Why are you here?” I asked finally. “In this room?”
He shifted slightly, hands clasping behind his back again. “I got here early. I was hoping to see you. Before…”
“Before the show?” I said, sharper than I intended.
A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth—tired, not amused. “I guess you could call it that.”
His gaze returned to the tapestry. “To them, it’s all celebration and symbolism. Hope reborn, the kingdom’s lost heir returned, the future restored…”
He trailed off, then glanced at me again.
“I don’t think they see how heavy that really is. What it must feel like—for you.”
I didn’t answer.
He hesitated, then added, “I’m not here to make things harder, Elira. I just… I wanted to see you before everyone else got their version of you.”
That made me pause. Everyone else’s version.
“I don’t even know my version yet,” I said quietly. “So good luck to them.”
A silence settled between us. Not heavy. Not warm either.
Just… there.
I heard the noise of the ball, even from this room, and I sighed.
“Elira, would you... would you allow me to accompany you in?” Caelen offered me his arm. I stared at it like it might bite me.
“Fine,” I said, the word clipped, neutral. Not an invitation. Not a rejection.
Relief flickered across his expression, and he offered his arm—not too close, not too fast. I didn’t take it.
I stepped forward, about to follow him out of the room—when I saw the mirror.
It was just off to the side, tucked between two stone pillars. Gilded frame. Perfectly polished glass. One of those little vanity traps, placed there so nobles could adjust their smiles before stepping into the light.
But it wasn’t my reflection that stopped me.
It was someone behind me.
Someone that wasn’t there.
A man. Dressed in black, shadows clinging to his shoulders like smoke. His eyes locked to mine in the glass. Unmoving. Haunted.
Thorne.
I froze.
I didn’t turn. Couldn’t.
He was just—there, in the mirror. Watching. Still. Like a memory trying to climb back into my skin. He looked … hollow. He looked sick.
My hand hovered in the air. Breath caught.
“Elira?” Caelen’s voice broke through softly, concern creeping in. “What is it?”
I blinked.
Thorne was gone.
The mirror was still. Empty, save for me. Pale and shaking in a gown too heavy for the bones beneath it.
“I...” I swallowed. “Sorry. I thought I saw...never mind.”
But the shaking didn’t stop. Even after he was gone.
And this time, I didn’t look back.