Chapter 18
Elira
Sorrowsea looked like a magical sandcastle brought to life.
Its towers rose high in shades of sun-washed stone, crowned with sculpted shell motifs that wound elegantly around the walls.
The citadel overlooked the beach and bustling port below, where ships rocked gently in the tide, sails half-raised in preparation for departure.
“Are we taking the ships from here?” I asked, riding alongside Caelen.
Slade stood at my other side. “Yes. It’ll cut our journey time in half—and it may give us the element of surprise.”
“How long is the journey?” I asked.
“Most likely a few days by sea. It’ll be close quarters, that’s for sure,” Caelen said, flashing a smile. “But I’ll make sure you’re on my ship. It’s much bigger—and far more comfortable.”
Slade shot him a glare. “Assuming there’s room for the rest of us.”
Caelen hesitated, then cleared his throat. “We’ll figure it out.”
Up ahead, a small cotillion of troops approached—led by a man dressed in golden brown and sea green.
“General Marcus,” Caelen said, gesturing between us. “This is Slade Archenwald, and Princess Elira Virell.”
“Princess!” The general bowed low. He was a thin man, lined with age and refinement, his bearing crisp as sea air. His eyes sparkled with the quiet confidence of someone who’d seen his fair share of battles—and won most of them. I liked him immediately.
“Hi,” I said, more awkwardly than I meant to.
He smiled kindly, as if he found my informality refreshing rather than offensive.
“Your mother awaits us in the hall, Your Grace,” he said, straightening.
Caelen sighed. “Great.” He said, but I saw the look on his face.
“Should I be prepared to fight?” I asked, half joking.
“Maybe.” He grinned. “She’s .. not an easy woman. Let’s put it that way.”
“What about your dad?”
“He’ll be there too.”
“But they don’t announce him?” I asked. Caelen winced again.
“You’ll see,”
I exchanged a glance with Slade, who stayed close by my side—watchful, solid, quiet.
Behind us, Phoenix and Leo stepped into formation with Maddie, but… something felt off.
They were unusually quiet. Tense. Grumpy, even.
For a brief second, I wondered if I’d done something.
If maybe… they were mad at me.
We were led inside the castle grounds in our small procession.
The hall was as grand as I expected—vaulted ceilings, warm sea-stone columns, and glass mosaics that shimmered like fish scales in the shifting light. But even all that beauty felt… tense. Too quiet.
At the far end stood a woman draped in layers of green and pearl. She looked every inch a queen—even though she wasn't one. Her expression was carved from marble: elegant, emotionless, and unimpressed. That had to be Lady Mireille—Caelen’s mother.
Seated beside her, half in shadow, was a man with long silver-threaded hair and a restless energy that vibrated beneath his skin. His robes were wrinkled, his fingers drumming the edge of the armrest like he was tapping out a language only he understood. This, then, was Lord Dante.
Caelen straightened beside me, tension rippling through his posture. Slade stayed close, eyes scanning everything—especially the guards lining the walls.
“Mother. Father,” Caelen said formally. “May I present Slade Archenwald, commander of the Veilguard, and Princess Elira Virell.”
Mireille’s eyes moved over me like I was an acquisition to be appraised.
“Princess Elira,” she said at last, voice smooth as polished stone. “At last. We’ve heard… quite a lot about you.”
I nodded once, careful. “I imagine you have, Your Grace. Thank you for welcoming us to your home.”
Dante leaned forward, smiling faintly. “You look like your father, you know.” His voice was gentle but frayed—like a whisper pulled through static.
Mireille didn’t look at him. Didn’t even flinch.
“You must be tired from your journey,” she said, still watching me. “We’ve arranged rooms for you and your guards. You’ll be staying in the southern wing, of course.”
Slade stepped forward, every inch the commander. “Thank you, Lady Mireille. We’ll ensure our men remain orderly.”
Her gaze flicked to him, assessing. “See that you do.”
Dante smiled again, blinking slowly. “Do you dream in colour, Princess?” he asked suddenly.
I blinked. “Sometimes,” I said honestly.
Mireille sighed quietly. “Please ignore him. He speaks nonsense.”
But I didn’t think it was nonsense. And from the way Slade's eyes narrowed slightly, neither did he.
The Duke leaned forward, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.
He gestured me closer.
Mireille rolled her eyes.
I hesitated, then stepped forward, unsure what he wanted.
“The seas have been whispering again,” he said.
“Have they?” I asked softly. “What do they say?”
His eyes gleamed. “Something will wake in the wilds. Something powerful, so you have to remember.” He leaned even closer. “It’s coming, shadow girl. For you.”
“Dante, enough,” Mireille snapped. Her voice held no affection—just weary dismissal.
She turned her head. “Linus!”
Linus approached—a tall man with greying hair and tired eyes. His steps were practiced, quiet. Used to being ignored. “Yes, mistress?”
“Dante needs his rest. Please, take him.”
“Mother…” Caelen began, “he’s fine.”
“Quiet.” Her tone cut through the air like a blade.
She stood, descending the dais with slow, deliberate steps—her gaze locked on me.
“So Elira Virell.” She looked me up and down. “You don’t dress like a princess.”
I glanced at Caelen, then back at her. “Excuse me?” I asked. “What does that even mean? Should I be wearing silk gown? I’m going to war.”
Her lip twitched—either disdain or amusement.
“You should have stayed home with your mother. Syrena was a fool to let you go.”
I held her gaze. “My mother respects my autonomy.”
Mireille’s expression sharpened. “Does she? Ah well—her loss, in the end.”
Nice to be written off so fast.
“Well, thank you for your hospitality. We’ll rest up and be out of your hair in the morning.” I started, turning slightly—ready to end it.
“You could stay here. Both of you,” Mireille cut in smoothly. “Like was intended in the first place.”
I blinked. “What?”
She looked to Caelen. “The contract still stands.”
My stomach turned.
“Mother…” Caelen began, sending me a guilty glance.
Mireille raised an elegant brow. “You haven’t told her?” Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “How awkward.”
I turned to Caelen. “Told me what?”
He hesitated. “We can talk about this later—”
I turned back to Mireille. “What contract?”
“Why, marriage, of course.” Her tone was light. Amused. Cruel. “You two have been betrothed since childhood.”
I blinked, reeling—then froze as her hand darted out.
She grabbed my chin between her fingers, cold and bony, like a claw.
I snapped my head back, hard.
Her eyes gleamed. “You are a pretty thing,” she said, unbothered. “You’ll make strong children, I imagine.”
I stared at her.
“I’m sorry—what?”
Behind me, I heard it—a sharp intake of breath. Then a hiss.
I turned just in time to see Leo and Phoenix both storm out of the hall, jaws tight, shoulders rigid.
I didn’t know what hurt more—that they left… or that neither of them had said anything at all.
Maddie caught my eye for half a heartbeat—then ran after Leo, her cloak fluttering behind her like a banner of retreat.
Slade didn’t move. But I felt the tension radiating off him like heat.
He wouldn’t leave me. Not for anything.
A servant entered the hall and bowed. “Your rooms are ready.”
I stared at Caelen.
Waiting.
Hoping.
But he looked away.
I watched him a moment longer.
Still… nothing.
Fine.
I turned without a word. The hall felt colder now—its sea breeze soured and stale.
Slade fell into step beside me.
We didn’t speak. We didn’t need to.
Behind me, I heard the soft shuffle of layered silk—Mireille settling back on her throne like a queen who’d just won a game I didn’t even know we were playing.
She had dropped a blade between us and smiled as it fell.
I didn’t look back.
The doors shut behind us with a heavy boom.
It sounded like the end of something.
Outside, the sea air hit me—cool, briny, sharp. I sucked it in like breath after drowning.
A maid curtseyed. “This way, Your Highness.”
I stormed forward, jaw tight. I didn’t speak.
Slade followed in silence—close, steady. A wall between me and the breaking point rising in my chest.
Behind us, footsteps.
“Ellie, wait—”
I spun. “Don’t Ellie me.”
He stopped short, breath catching.
“You knew about this,” I said. “Didn’t you?”
Caelen hesitated. “I did.”
“And you didn’t think it mattered?”
“I wasn’t planning on—”
“What? Asking my permission?”
“No—I mean yes—gods, I wasn’t going to force anything, okay?” He ran a hand through his hair, flushed with frustration. “But it makes a lot of sense,” he added, voice softer now. “You and me. Doesn’t it?”
“No,” I said honestly. “It doesn’t.”
“Ellie – “
“I don’t feel that way about you, Caelen.”
I kept my voice calm.
But it hit him like a blow.
He winced.
“I know that. But… you could. You know you could.”
“Caelen,” I said, shaking my head.
“Please, just hear me out, okay?”
He stepped closer, reaching for my hands—like he’d forgotten Slade was even in the room.
Slade moved immediately, a low warning in his voice. “Don’t touch her.”
Caelen threw his hands up, startled. “Okay! Okay. Look, Ellie—I know what you went through was brutal—”
“No.” My voice was flat. Sharp. “You don’t.”
He opened his mouth.
“No, Caelen.”
I stepped forward. My voice stayed low, almost soft—but it cut clean. “Do you really want to know what happened to me?”
He froze.
“What it felt like to be owned? To be locked in a room and dressed like a doll…”
My voice faltered. “…while he tortured my friend—just to keep me quiet.” My throat burned, but I didn’t stop.
“Do you want to know what it’s like to get so sick on the streets I nearly died in an alley? To claw for scraps in fighting pits just to stay alive? Do you really want those details?”
I met his eyes, cold and steady. “Do you want to know how many times I was beaten? How many times I was touched when I said no? How often I didn’t even get to say no?”
Behind me, Slade didn’t move. But I knew he heard every word.
Caelen went pale. “Ellie—”
“That’s why it won’t work,” I said, voice breaking. “Why it can’t ever work.”
A single tear slipped down my cheek. I didn’t wipe it away.
“Because the girl you need?” I whispered. “She doesn’t exist anymore.”
I drew a breath that rattled in my chest. “She died on the streets. She died in Varrowmere.”
I went to walk away, but Caelen stopped me.
“You think that scares me away, but it doesn’t.” he said finally.
“It should.”
“Then maybe I’m an idiot, because I still see something beautiful in you.”
“That’s the problem, Caelen.”
I looked at him—really looked at him.
“You still see beauty. You don’t see me.”
And then I walked away.