Chapter 7
Elira
I escaped to the balcony at first opportunity. Leo had gone to get us drinks. I watched the vultures circle—and I knew I needed to breathe.
Outside, the night air was cool and fresh. I liked seeing the moon here. It was big, visible and silver, like a watchful eye. I walked to the railing and leaned against it.
I almost wanted to rip the dress from my body. My skin was crawling. I breathed deeply, in and out. I let my shadows swirl around me in case someone came looking.
A small cough caught my attention.
At the far end of the balcony, I caught the faint glow of a cigarette.
The red tip flared softly in the dark.
I stepped closer, then paused.
Syrena.
“You shouldn’t be out here,” she said without looking at me. Her voice was calm—but I didn’t miss the tension in it.
I stayed quiet. Neither of us moved.
She sat alone, the shadows making her gown look almost black. When she saw me looking, she turned away with a quick sigh and stubbed the cigarette out on the railing.
“Sorry,” she said too fast. “Bad habit. I picked it up a few years ago...I’m still trying to quit.”
“It’s fine,” I said, caught off guard. “Do whatever you need to.”
She offered me a small smile—tired, not performative.
Then glanced back toward the ballroom. “I’m sorry it got so… excessive. The council got overzealous. I meant for something quieter.”
I almost smiled at her expression.
“It is a bit… much,” I admitted.
Syrena nodded, her gaze drifting back to the glowing ballroom.
“You know, we used to have much grander affairs than this,” she said softly. “All the kingdoms came. Even Varrowmere, back then.”
She paused, fingers brushing the railing where the smoke still curled faintly.
“That was before the exile, I suppose. I always found them a bit daunting—too many eyes, too many expectations.”
A faint smile tugged at her lips. “But your father… Alistair... he loved them. He had a way of making everyone feel seen. He was a kind man. Friendly. Never forgot a name.”
“How did…” The question slipped out before I could stop it. I hesitated.
Syrena didn’t wait. Her voice softened, like she’d expected it.
“How did he die?”
I didn’t speak—just nodded once.
She exhaled, her eyes distant.
“He was killed. Murdered,” she said simply. “We’d heard whispers—rumblings of unrest. Alistair chose to believe we could talk it out, resolve it at the summit. He trusted in diplomacy.”
She paused. Her jaw tightened. “But he invited the wrong people.”
I said the name before I could bite it back. “Vael.”
Syrena flinched—barely—but I saw it.
She nodded.
“Ashton and Vael came together,” she said. “Brothers by blood, if not in temperament. Sons of Duke Arrowheart—someone we once called friend. But the Duke… he’d developed an obsession with the magicborn. We didn’t realise how far it had gone. Not until it was too late.”
Her voice dropped lower.
“We learned afterward that Arrowheart was using spells to bind the loyalty of the Shades. Not loyalty, really. Control. He was taking away their free will.”
She stared out into the dark beyond the balcony.
“And you didn’t stop them?” I asked, the words escaping before I could help it.
“We should have,” she admitted. “But it was easy to turn the other cheek. To let them have… certain allowances. Because it meant we were protected—from King Ivan, from the other threats pressing in. Ashton and Vael became our stewards of Blackspire after Arrowheart died. But like father, like sons.”
Her voice turned hollow.
“That castle once belonged to our family. A seat we entrusted to them.” She shook her head. “Before our fall from power, Varrowmere had been the crown of Virell’s ambition.
Magic and machinery, woven together like thread—elevators, warded trains, towers that whispered with fresh, filtered air.
Now it is a haunted skeleton of what it once was. Because of Arrowheart’s betrayal.”
Syrena exhaled slowly and turned her eyes to the glittering stretch of sea beyond the cliffs. The reflection of the ballroom lights shimmered like stars on the water.
“That night,” she whispered, “it was…”
“What?”
She closed her eyes.
“The worst night of my life,” she said, voice unsteady. “And I remember every second of it.”
I waited, letting the silence breathe.
“We were sleeping after the summit. We had let them in the walls. We had given them lodging. We thought we were safe.” Syrena said.
“It was the fire that woke us. It was lit in our chambers. The maids woke us and got us out, not realising it was a distraction to pull us from the safety of our room. The soldiers… Vael’s soldiers…
they were hiding in the shadows. The irony of that is not lost on me, by the way. ” Her voice dropped lower.
“They attacked without warning. It was a bloodbath. And by the end of the night, most of our guard—and Alistair—were dead.”
She finally looked at me.
“And you were gone.”
I stared at her for a long moment, the words heavy in my chest before I could speak.
“You didn’t look for me?” I asked, quiet but steady.
“I did,” she said. “But we were crippled. Our ships were burned. Our soldiers slaughtered. And Ashton had the magicborn on his side. It was all we could do just to survive.”
I nodded once. Cold. Sharp.
“So you hid.”
My voice was even. Controlled.
But she flinched anyway.
“I can’t tell you I’m sorry, can I?” Syrena asked, her voice low. Tired. “Would it make a difference?”
“It’s too late for sorry,” I said, looking away. “It wouldn’t change anything.”
She was silent for a moment. Then—softly:
“I sent knights to look for you. Jasper. Lacey. Others, too. We searched for months. Years. I hoped you were alive. I prayed you were. But no one could find you. It was like you’d vanished. Like you were a ghost.”
She swallowed, voice cracking just slightly.
“And I… I mourned you.”
Something cracked in me.
But I swallowed it whole.
It was like I took a step further away from myself—watched the moment from somewhere behind my own ribs. Detached. Hollow.
But inside? Something shook.
“So this war,” I said, steadying my voice. “Will you attack Varrowmere? Will you fight Vael and his men?”
Syrena hesitated. Just for a breath.
Something flickered in her expression—something human.
But then she tucked it away.
Slipped back into the queen.
“Vael is already gathering troops,” she said. “Our spies report he’s planning to march—here. For you.”
I nodded, looking back out at the sea. “I saw him in Varrowmere.”
Syrena froze. “And?”
“And I understand the urgency. I want to fight.”
“Fight?” Syrena looked confused.
“Send me to training. I’ll fight with the soldiers. I’ll go to the front lines.”
“Elira… I just got you back.”
“I’m not useful to you here.” I replied. “Give me a sword. A blade. Anything.”
Syrena’s jaw tightened.
“No,” she said softly. “Not yet.”
I blinked. “What?”
“I won’t send you to the front lines. Not now. Not like this. You were not meant to be a soldier. You need to stay safe.”
Anger sparked in my chest—sharp and sudden, like something snapping loose.
“You don’t get to decide that,” I said. “Not now.”
Syrena flinched like I’d struck her. “Elira—”
“No.” My voice rose—controlled, but cold. “You think because we share blood, you can pull rank? You have no idea what I’ve survived. No idea what it took just to stand here. So don’t tell me I’m not ready. You’re not ready.”
“I’m trying to protect you,” she said, the words strained. “I can’t lose you again.”
“Then don’t,” I snapped. “Let me fight.”
Her silence stretched too long. When she finally spoke, it was barely a whisper.
“No.”
I stared at her. Jaw tight. Chest burning.
“It doesn’t matter what you dress me in, Your Highness. Silks, silver—whatever makes me easier to look at.” My voice shook. “I will never be your princess.”
Syrena paled.
“I am just me,” I said, quieter now. “The parts and pieces standing in front of you. No crowns. Just what’s left.”
She opened her mouth, but no sound came out.
I looked at her—really looked.
“It’s not much,” I said softly. “But fighting... fighting is something I know.”
The wind tugged gently at the edges of my dress. The ocean murmured below.
And for once, I didn’t fill the silence.