Chapter 10
Leo
Lacey had a lab on the castle grounds. It was a small cottage that had been converted into a workspace, with overflowing gardens of herbs and flowers stretching along the outside walls.
As soon as Maddie heard we were going, she decided to tag along—not before fluffing her hair for the twentieth time and checking her reflection in the window.
“You look fine,” I muttered.
She shot me a narrow look. “I don’t want to just be fine,” she hissed, smoothing her clothes again.
Elira waited for us outside, her body restless with impatience. Whatever breakthrough we’d had the night before had clearly regressed—she was back to being closed off and unreadable.
I sighed.
Slade had opted out of our little mission, choosing to train with the soldiers today. He already knew the gist, and though it pained him—I knew, even if he didn’t say it—he understood it was better to be ready to move than to be stuck in the planning stage.
The Queen and Jasper had asked him personally to assist, and though it took a little convincing, in the end he’d agreed. Not because he liked it.
But because that’s who Slade was.
Always the shield. Even when no one asked him to be.
Phoenix walked ahead of all of us, his face thoughtful and brooding. I could see the tension in his gait.
He thought Thorne might be alive. And it was tearing him apart.
“Are you sure I look okay?” Maddie whispered.
“You don’t even know if she’s gay,” I muttered.
Maddie rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. You saw those arms. Those muscles.”
“Maybe she just likes to stay fit.”
“Maybe she likes me,” Maddie shot back, lifting her chin with mock confidence.
“Of course she will. If she’s gay,” I said, giving her a small grin. “Mads, don’t get your hopes up.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” She huffed. “Gods, do you know how long it’s been?”
I glanced ahead at Elira, walking beside Phoenix, her expression distant.
“I have an idea,” I muttered.
Maddie caught the shift in my tone and gave me a sympathetic look. “Still no real progress then?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know. Some days it feels like I’m getting through. Two steps forward…”
“…three steps back?” she offered gently.
I exhaled. “Yeah. Exactly.”
“I never thought I’d see the day, Mr. Knight,” Maddie said, grinning.
I cast her a sidelong look. “What?”
“You’re in love with her.”
I rolled my eyes. “Don’t start.”
“I’m not,” she said, all innocence. “Just making an observation.”
She bumped her shoulder lightly against mine. “For what it’s worth… I think she feels the same. Even if she’s not ready to accept it yet.”
I watched Elle walk—dressed in simple work pants, a shirt, and a jacket.
Her blades were strapped to her body like she couldn’t sleep without them.
Her hair hung loose in long, tangled curls, and her pale face was set with quiet determination.
Sometimes, when I looked at her, it felt like her mind wasn’t fully here—like something kept pulling her away. Most the time I just wanted to reach out and grab her. I wanted to shake her, hold her, kiss her just so she knew she wasn’t alone.
I missed her, even when she was here.
Mads elbowed me in the side. “You’ll get her back. I know it.”
“How do you know that?” I asked. “I don’t know if she even knows how to let people in anymore, not completely.”
“I know because I saw her. I saw the way she watched you, the way she smiled and leaned into you. To all of you.” Mads stopped and took my hand. “This is a girl who had no one else except Finn for years. And then she chose you and he died. That’s a lot of guilt to carry.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying maybe… maybe she needs to let him go. And more than that—she needs to forgive herself.”
Maddie looked at me, eyes steady.
“That’s where you come in. All of you. You stand by her. Even when she pulls away. Especially then.”
She squeezed my hand.
“She’ll see it, Leo. I really think she will. And maybe then… maybe she’ll finally let herself grieve.”
“I hope you’re right,” I said finally.
“We’re here. You guys coming?” Phoenix called.
I looked up.
He and Elle stood waiting by the door.
Her eyes locked on mine—steady, unreadable, but intense.
“Yup,” I said, flashing a grin.
Her gaze softened, just barely.
Maddie gave me a knowing look as we ducked inside.
Lacey was already at her workbench, measuring liquids in beakers and jars. The place smelled sharp—herbs and something faintly metallic.
She looked up as we entered, setting her beaker down and wiping her hands on a cloth.
“Your Highness,” she greeted.
Elira stepped forward. “Just Elle, please.”
“Alright, Elle,” Lacey said with a quick nod. “What can I do for you?”
“We have a question about your time in Varrowmere,” Phoenix said.
“Ask away.” Lacey’s tone was crisp, businesslike.
“Syrena—Her Majesty—said you worked as a spy. Through the markets and the pit, getting information out.”
Lacey folded her arms. “Is there something specific you’re after?”
“We want to know if you still have any contacts in the castle,” Elle said, her voice even.
“I might.”
Phoenix glanced at her. “We think Thorne might still be alive.”
Lacey stilled. “Really?” She asked in disbelief. “We all saw him fall.”
Elle winced at that, “We did but we never saw a body.”
“He was set upon by an entire army.” Lacey said. “All due respect, I know he was a good fighter but who could survive that?”
“Thorne could, if Vasquez wanted him alive.” Phoenix replied.
“Why would he want that?”
“To use him against us,” I said quietly.
I turned to Phoenix, a sick certainty settling in my gut.
“It’s exactly the kind of thing Vasquez would do.”
“Yes,” Phoenix said, his voice tight.
“But how would he be useful?” Maddie asked, moving up beside the table. “Thorne wouldn’t turn on you guys, would he? You were all so close.”
“Did Thorne cut off his brand?” Elle asked quietly.
I turned to her. “Why?”
“Didn’t you say the brand’s a failsafe?” she said. “That once it’s cut, the Shades are programmed to hunt you?”
“Yes,” Phoenix said, already following her line of thought.
“And you trained together,” she continued. “He knows all your moves. And you know his.”
Phoenix swore under his breath. “So Vasquez gets a personal hunting dog—if he breaks Thorne.”
“Thorne’s strong,” I said quickly. “It would take a lot to break him.”
“Is there any way we can find out?” Maddie asked. “If he’s alive? Can we get word out?”
Lacey nodded. “I can. I’ll speak to my contacts this afternoon.”
“Thank you,” Phoenix said. “Send any information directly to me.”
“No problem,” Lacey replied.
“Why can’t you do it now?” Elle asked.
“We have set times to communicate,” Lacey said evenly.
Elle just glared. “Can’t you change it? Get to them early somehow?”
“I’ll update the system today to make it faster,” Lacey said. “We’ll find out what you need, Elle. It’ll be okay.”
“You don’t know that!” Elira snapped. Her voice cracked—barely—but she didn’t stop. “None of you do!”
“Elle—” Phoenix began, but she turned on her heel.
She took a sharp breath, then stormed out of the room.
Phoenix and I exchanged a look, then followed.
Maddie stayed behind.
She leaned over Lacey’s table and sniffed one of the bubbling jars. “Is that white root?”
“Good nose,” Lacey said, smiling. “I’m working on a new communication potion.”
“Have you tried lemon flower? It’s good for signal clarity and stabilization.” Maddie asked.
Lacey raised an eyebrow. “You know your plants.”
I nudged Maddie’s shoulder. “Catch you later, Mads.”
She blushed and waved me off, shooing me toward the door.
Elle was storming her way toward the training field like she was about to jump out of her own skin.
She yanked off her jacket and threw it to the ground, then snatched up a practice sword from the rack.
Without hesitation, she launched into the dummies—swinging with a ferocity that startled even me.
Slade, who had been walking nearby, turned at the sound.
Phoenix sighed and made his way over to him.
I stepped closer to Elle, where a group of soldiers had gathered to watch. It didn’t take long for more to trickle in—curious, whispering, drawn by the sound of fury in motion.
Some of them smiled. Others elbowed each other, like this was a show.
My jaw tightened.
They wore the deep green of Virell—neatly pressed, perfectly stitched. Clean. Polished. Not one of them knew what it meant to fight for their life in the dirt. Not like we did.
Not like she had.
I caught one of them grinning and looking her up and down—like she was entertainment.
I stepped into his line of sight. Didn’t say a word.
Just stared.
He looked away first.
Smart.
But others weren’t so bright.
Elira, sensing the eyes on her, turned slowly—her gaze landing on a particularly tall soldier lingering near the edge of the field.
“What?” she growled.
His friends nudged him, egging him forward. He stepped into the circle, spinning his practice sword like he thought it made him dangerous.
“Didn’t realise the new princess knew her way around a blade.”
Big mistake.
Elle went still. Her eyes narrowed, calculating. Then she tilted her head and swung her sword once, clean and sharp through the air.
“I can show you, if you like,” she said. Her voice was almost sweet.
I stiffened. I knew that tone.
The soldier laughed, loud and careless. “Wouldn’t want you to break a nail, Your Highness.”
And there it was.
The idiot had just signed up for a lesson he wouldn’t forget.
Elira didn’t smile. Didn’t flinch. She just stepped forward, raising her blade in a casual, almost lazy stance.
The soldier rolled his shoulders like he thought this was a game. “Alright then, princess. Show me what you’ve got.”
She moved before he finished the sentence.
A blur of motion—blade to his side, then up across his chest. She didn’t wait for him to react. She stepped into his space and drove the hilt into his gut.
He grunted, staggering.
The crowd shifted, laughter fading.
Elira spun low, sweeping his legs out from under him with a crack against his shins. He went down hard.
And she didn’t stop.
She brought the wooden blade down against his ribs, once, twice—each strike ringing out like a war drum. The man tried to roll, to block, to breathe—but she was already behind him, the tip of her sword pressed to the back of his neck.
The crowd was dead silent.
The soldier froze, panting hard, hands splayed on the dirt.
“Still worried about my nails?” Elira asked, voice flat.
He didn’t answer.
“Didn’t think so.”
She stepped back and scanned the crowd. Her breath was steady now, her voice cold as steel.
“Anyone else want a go?”
A few of the soldiers glanced at each other, more hesitant than before. No one moved.
Then a voice rang out—smooth, clear.
“I’ll fight you.”
Heads turned. I looked up to see Caelen stepping forward, shrugging off his jacket as he approached. His companion—an older man in aqua green—reached for him, alarm etched into his features.
“Sire, please—”
“It’s fine, Max,” Caelen said calmly, handing him the coat.
Elira turned to face him fully, eyes narrowing.
“You want to fight me?” she asked, cautious.
Caelen gave a small smile. “Why not?”
She tossed her broken-bladed sword aside and picked up another—longer, heavier.
Then she stepped into position. I held my breath.
They circled each other slowly, eyes locked.
“You don’t have to prove anything,” Caelen said under his breath.
“That’s the difference between us,” Elira replied. “I’m not here to prove anything.”
He moved first—fluid, elegant. But not soft.
He was fast.
Their swords met with a crack.
Caelen twisted, swept, retreated. Elira pressed forward—relentless. She didn’t fight like a trained noble. She fought like someone who had bled to survive.
She drove him back with a flurry of blows. He parried two, dodged the third, stumbled on the fourth.
But he recovered. Gods, he was good.
A soldier muttered, “He might actually win.”
He wouldn’t.
Phoenix stepped up beside me. Slade followed the fight from the sidelines, checking for foul play. There was a light in Elle’s eye I hadn’t seen in a while. A spark.
She always did love a good fight.
But there was something else in her eyes, too—a wildfire that burned uncontrollably.
“Is this a good idea?” Phoenix muttered beside me.
“Look at her,” I said. “She needs this.”
“And if she gets herself hurt?”
“I don’t think she’s too worried about that right now.”
She was all motion and shadow—fast, precise, lethal. Watching her fight was like watching the night come alive.
And Caelen—he wasn’t bad. He kept up, strike for strike, elegant and controlled. A perfect sparring partner. Until—
His blade swung up—Snap.
Something small arced through the air. A glint of silver caught the light. Her necklace.
The carved wooden wolf.
It tumbled— and hit the dirt. Shattered.
Elira froze. The crowd did too.
“Oh, fuck,” I breathed.
Phoenix didn’t move, eyes wide.
“Was that…”
“Yes,” I said flatly.
Caelen’s sword dropped instantly, his eyes wide. “I’m sorry… didn’t mean—”
But she was already moving. She dropped her blade and fell to her knees, snatching the broken pieces from the dirt with shaking hands. Her breath hitched—sharp, like she’d been struck.
“Elle—” I started forward.
She turned—and shoved Caelen hard in the chest. Then ran.