Chapter 32
NEARLY 100 YEARS AGO
LILITH DID NOT remember dreams, but she remembered this one like a memory bubbling to her subconscious. The swell of the ocean, the burning light of sun. How the earth carried to shore a dying boy. At twelve years old, she’d already had lungs powerful enough to scream for help. She had already lost her mother. The thought of losing another person, even if it was a stranger, was earth-shattering.
Her arms had hooked underneath his armpits as she’d dragged him away from water and dropped him into sand. He was skinny and pale, and appeared almost the same age as her, perhaps younger. She’d brushed wet, blond locks of hair from his face and crushed her lips against his. He’d tasted like the salt of the ocean and her tears.
She’d switched between pressing her palms hard against his chest and blowing air into his mouth. In those frantic minutes, she’d pleaded for him to open his eyes, waited for air to expel from his lips. A single breath to let her know he was alive.
Please, please, please.
Breathe.
Lilith woke up with his cold breath against her ear.
Moonlight slanted into her bedroom, casting rippling shadows on patterned wallpaper. Satin drapes were left open to reveal a full moon hanging bare in the sky. Parts of Lilith’s room brought her back to reality: red upholstered furniture, malachite candelabras, the cabinet that doubled as a mirror, reflecting her body entwined with another in bed.
She turned to look at the boy from the ocean, grown into a man a decade later. His jaw had become more defined, sharp as the slice of light that fell through the windows. His hair’s white-blond locks were tousled like the blankets. Long lashes swept over pale cheeks, and the gentle breath of his lips fluttered over her face.
He looked so innocent whenever he slept. Soft and ethereal, the light of the moon gently caressing his cheek. For a moment, his expression was the exact replica of the time she’d pulled him from the ocean in Zilar. A moment of peaceful unconsciousness before she’d breathed air back into his lungs.
Lilith untangled herself from his arms and sat up from the bed. The movement made him stir awake. When she was certain he was fully conscious, she said, “I told you not to come here anymore.”
She thought she had locked the door. Maybe she hadn’t. Maybe some part of her pretended to forget. When Amelia accepted Ezran’s marriage proposal, Lilith had been horrified by the news. He’d intruded upon their lives and fooled the kingdom into letting him stay by proposing to the princess. All so that he could be in Lilith’s life again.
Ezran crawled toward her on the mattress and wrapped his arm around her waist, burying his face into her back like a lost child. She fought the urge to take his embrace, but didn’t push him away, either.
“I can’t keep acting like you’re a stranger, Lilith. It doesn’t come as easily to me as it does to you.” His voice was husky and low, muffled by the fabric of her nightgown.
Guilt panged her chest. She whispered, “It’s not easy.”
Acting like she didn’t know the man who arrived at the castle was an act of willpower, a conscious gesture for her to maintain composure and avoid letting too much blood drain from her face. Still, when she warned Victor and Amelia to stay away from him, that he did not have the right intentions in coming here, an edge in her voice had slipped. Like a hidden dagger falling out of her sleeve.
They didn’t listen. She couldn’t give them a good reason to.
No, it wasn’t that. She just didn’t. Perhaps, deep down, she felt relief in having someone she knew and loved close to her again.
Their friendship had bloomed the day she saved him from the ocean. The king and queen of Zilar had thanked her for rescuing their only child and welcomed her inside their castle. Her childhood, once lonely after her mother’s passing and father’s abandonment, brightened with new memories of running down banquet halls, sharing pastries in the kitchens, and feeding carrots to the horse in the stables. She became close to the servants and cooks in the castle, kind-hearted folks that were native to Zilar just like her mother was, and learned about their dreams to move to Gyldan. They’d echoed the sentiments her mother once told her: that this land, once nothing more than barren desert, could be turned into anything. Even a home.
When her father returned to her life with a proposition for her to marry the king of Gyldan, she knew it was only to restore his social standing. After she’d accepted the union, Ezran had argued, “If it’s a life of easy wealth you want, I can give you that.” He couldn’t understand her reasonings because he always had a home, one that was stolen from people like her mother and his servants.
On the day of their tearful goodbye, Ezran had said he would never forget her.
Of course, he was always true to his promises.
Lilith lit the candle on her nightstand, illuminating the bedroom with a warm glow. Her shadow loomed against the patterned wallpaper, and she remembered staring at that same silhouette on a closed door the night she had visited Amelia’s bedroom. She wanted to tell the princess the truth. If Amelia hadn’t been sleeping, if Lilith had only come to her sooner, she wondered if things could have changed.
“I can’t stop thinking about Amelia,” she said.
Ten months had passed since Amelia disappeared. The castle fell into a state of disarray over the missing princess, uncertainty and rumors spreading across servants and faeries like wildfire. Her godmothers worried that Malicine had lured her into the woods to ensure she would die at eighteen. But as Lilith organized search parties, neither Malicine nor Amelia could be found throughout the kingdom.
Autumn rolled in, and they had only a week before Amelia’s eighteenth birthday. There was no heir to the throne, no princess to even save from a spinning wheel. Lilith felt pressured to expand her search beyond the country, but Victor limited the expedition with his own journey to neighboring kingdoms. He’d left a month ago to seek women who would give him another heir, insisting that he needed to travel far away from Gyldan so that people would not discover how fragile their monarchy was. As a result, he took away the resources Lilith needed by bringing guards and servants with him.
Frustration twisted in Lilith’s stomach at his decision to find a new heir rather than stay to find Amelia. It was a gamble for Gyldan’s future, and he’d placed the wrong bet.
“She’s not coming back,” Ezran replied.
The affirmation made Lilith’s skin bristle. “She will.”
“She’s not the type of person who can do anything for herself. The pre-wedding jitters, her moodiness, the pressure of either ruling a kingdom or dying from a spindle . . . she probably couldn’t handle any of it and ran away. Weak-minded girls like her are far too common. They aren’t like you, Lilith. They crumble at any sign of hardship.”
“Amelia is not weak,” Lilith replied fiercely. “If you think dismissing other women is a compliment to me, it’s not.”
Lilith knew Amelia had a tendency to run away, an instinct as natural for her as breathing, but what mattered more was that she came back. She would show up and confront the darkness anyway, even when it felt too consuming. Amelia was capable of that strength, even if the princess herself didn’t know that yet.
Ezran grabbed Lilith’s hand and pressed his lips to the curve of her fingers. “Forgive me.” His voice turned soft, coaxing, an attempt to appease her. “You’re right. She’ll come back, and we’ll figure out the rest from there.”
Lilith yanked her hand away from his lips, still angry. She stood up from the bed and let her distracted thoughts lift her away from Ezran. She approached the dressing table and sank into the cushioned stool. Absent-minded fingers danced over vials of perfume, clouds of powder puffs, porcelain cups of cream. An armoire cabinet made of solid wood sat behind a bowl of ivory hairpins, displaying assortments of jewelry that glinted under moonlight. The tangible objects grounded her back to reality. She didn’t care for such luxuries, but these gifts reminded her the duty of being queen and the responsibilities she had for Gyldan.
Then there was Ezran again, a shadow approaching from behind. His arms wrapped around her, the warmth of his skin luring fond memories like soft waves against a shore. He held her as gently as he did when they were caught in summer storms as children or reading old stories by candlelight past their bedtimes. He would smuggle lost history books from every trip because she’d wanted to read stories before they were rewritten by Zilar. He never cared that those archives were banned in his kingdom. That was something she’d always admired about him: He held no loyalty to any country or crown. His priority had always been the people he cared about.
She could feel her initial anger at him melting away under his embrace. Ezran was an arrogant fool, but she had seen the goodness in him throughout their childhoods, had tasted his potential in the very first breath they shared.
Their silent embrace was interrupted by the hitch of his breath. The table groaned as he leaned over the surface, fingers running through velvet cushions until he grasped what he’d seen.
“You kept the pearls.”
They were the only necklace that had not been arranged neatly inside its case because of how often she wore them. Ezran had gifted the pearls on her eighteenth birthday, a reminder of the ocean where he owed her his breath. As she came to know him, she understood how the tides favored a wrathful boy. But there were the rare glimpses of gentleness she would see, his delicate heart soft as seafoam.
“They’re my favorite,” she confessed. “I wear them every day.”
She knew a world didn’t exist where she could tell Ezran goodbye forever while keeping a piece of him wherever she went. The truth of it was that no matter how her life could change, he would always be the boy who loved her when no one else did.
He gently took the pearls and wrapped them around her neck, leaving a trail of kisses down her nape. Her skin tingled from the touch. She allowed a reckless thought that, perhaps, this kind of love was enough for her to be happy. Maybe something like this could be more than enough.
Like an answer, a flash of lightning tore the sky. Lilith jumped from her seat, toppling her chair over. The sky had been clear, with not a cloud in sight that would have signaled a thunderstorm. Yet the air howled something fierce, the leaves of every tree rustling. Light radiated from the forest surrounding the castle. A hole opened in the sky, and though she couldn’t make sense of the sight, her gut told her this was Amelia.
Ezran called her name, but his voice fell on deaf ears as Lilith bounded for the door, ran across the hall, and rushed down the staircase. The doors burst open to pouring rain. When she scanned the bush road again, nobody was there. No, that couldn’t be. What she’d seen could not have been simply her imagination.
Lilith ran deeper into the woods, even as her slippers splashed in puddles and dirt kicked up her skirt. Her throat turned sore from yelling Amelia’s name, hoping her plea would echo far enough through the branches. She circled around looming trees and pushed through foliage, straining to find the princess in heavy rain. The weather turned unforgiving, the undergrowth crackling beneath her shoes. A rush of footsteps came from behind. She spun around and ran into Ezran’s chest. He steadied her by the shoulders as she gasped for breath.
“Slow down,” he said. “Are you sure it wasn’t a trick of the light?”
“It’s Amelia. I’m certain of it!”
Despite her insistence, Ezran led her beneath a canopy to shield them from the rain. He draped his coat over her head, so that the water from the leaves would not drip on her. He was always like this, putting her first and center in his world. She counted her breaths to pace herself, but frustration seeped from her dry throat as she said, “I just wish she knew she didn’t need to run away.”
Rain dripped from Ezran’s temple, and his damp cheeks took on a sheen under the moonlight. His silver eyes stewed in thought.
“Maybe she’s right for running away,” he said.
“What do you mean?”
They stared at each other in weighted silence until he stepped close enough for her to feel his breath. His palm cupped her cheek, and he looked at her tenderly like she was the most important thing in the world.
“We could do it, too. Abandon it all,” he murmured. “We’d finally be together. There wouldn’t be a need for me to take over as king or marry Amelia. I don’t care about ruling any kingdom, as long as I’m with you.”
He steadied his hand over hers, but she could still feel the squeeze of his fingers, the pressure of his skin on hers. She knew he meant every word. Ezran would have done anything for her. It was the kind of hopeless devotion that any lucky woman would dream of. But the declaration also came from desperation. He had no other option than to run away with her. If Amelia didn’t show up, there would be no heir. If Amelia did appear, he would have to stay married to her. There were no other circumstances where Ezran and Lilith could be together.
She took off his coat, drenched from the rain, and handed it back to Ezran. “We can’t.”
“We can.”
“Let me correct myself. We can. But I won’t.” She tightened her grip on his hands and stared deep into his eyes for the truth. “I want to make a difference in the world. Don’t you?”
There was a hitch in his throat. “No,” he rasped. “I only want you.”
Lilith let go of his hands. The weight of his hold lifted everything away.
“I’m sorry, Ezran,” she said. “That’s not good enough for me.”
He stared at her with a pain-stricken face, like she had just ripped his heart out and he didn’t understand why. It was the same expression he wore the day she had told him goodbye and married Victor. Lilith clenched her eyes shut, if only to block out the pained look of the broken boy, or else risk hearing her heart crack in two. She needed to stay firmly rooted into the ground, not let her feelings be easily swayed by the turns of the wind. There was a reason why dreams were only for sleeping. Why they only met at the thick of night, between the sleepy haze of reverie and wishful thinking.
“You should go,” she said, departing from the canopy’s shade. She wanted to return to the castle and alert the guards that she’d seen Amelia. Perhaps they would find the princess if Lilith recruited another search party tonight. She barely made it past the tree when Ezran grabbed her by the wrist. He pulled her back, demanding her to face him again.
“Kiss me,” he said. “Even if it’s the last time. Please. Before you say goodbye.”
Lilith held her breath, afraid that any exhale would push her forward into his arms and let her sink into his embrace. Water trailed down his cheeks, and this time, it wasn’t the rain. His mouth twisted in anguish. The wait looked like it was killing him.
She placed a gentle hand on his cheek, where his tears slicked the tip of her thumb. Their noses brushed against each other, and their faces finally met in the rain. He tasted like air at night, heavy with the weight of autumn storm. Salt tinged their lips, a mixture of rain and tears, his kiss like a flame that wanted to swallow her whole. He tasted just like the boy in her dreams.
But that was all they were: dreams.
A shriek pierced the air, pulling Lilith away. Behind Ezran, at the entrance of the forest, stood Amelia’s godmothers silhouetted by candlelight.
“Run,” Lilith urged. “I’ll stay, so they won’t catch you.”
Ezran shook his head. “I’m not leaving you—”
“Someone needs to find Amelia,” she whispered fiercely. “If you don’t leave now, I’ll never forgive us for losing her.”
She didn’t promise they’d see each other again, because there was no guarantee. But he must have believed it from the flicker of hope in his eyes. His lips twisted in regret, while his feet staggered backward. A mental battle raged inside his mind. She shoved him back, forcing him to commit to their plan.
“Protect my treasure.” This wasn’t a plea, but a demand. “Find Amelia. It’s always belonged to her.”