Chapter Seventy-Seven
ELYSSARA
The Riverian Jungle blooms around us as Thornewood shrinks in the distance. Nyx’s steady gait beneath me calms the fire still humming through my veins since Zak.
I know I’ll have to face what happened at some point. But not today. Not now.
Kael’s arm wraps around me in a protective embrace, his hard muscles anchoring me here with him.
I am safe. I am safe. I am safe.
Rhyven leads the way, his eyes darting left and right, just as Therion’s do when he’s tracking and sensing in the way only Aestherstrides can do.
Occasionally, he looks around, letting his eyes land on me before quickly averting them.
I’m unsure if he’s sizing me up like a predator does to prey or if he’s genuinely concerned for my well-being. Likely the former.
Therion has Aura sitting on Rhyven’s tail, barely giving him space to lead on his tawny mare. Watching, assessing. I have no doubt it’s on Kael’s command, but somehow, I think Therion would be doing it, regardless.
We ride for what feels like an eternity.
The luminous, vibrant jungle blurs into itself, lunafleurs morph into moonmilk blossoms, and miravine lilies bloom into duskwater irises until the world around me becomes a kaleidoscope of colors and phantom scents—each bloom pulsing faintly with life beneath the canopy.
The sun gives way to the rising moon, and the Stars begin to twinkle through the thick canopy above. We ride into a clearing, and Rhyven turns to the group, “We’ll camp here this evening. We’ll feed and water the horses, and I’ll hunt for us.” He nods to Kael in deference, and Kael nods back.
We all dismount from our horses and begin setting up camp for the night.
I sense someone approaching and turn swiftly, just in time to see Rhyven mere feet from me.
“I’m sorry to startle you, Elyssara,” Rhyven says with sincerity, arms raised in surrender.
“I was hoping to catch you before we departed for the journey, but you were... recovering.” He winces as he says the last word, looking at me regretfully.
Rhyven waits for me to respond, but I just stare at him.
Unblinking. “I want to offer you my most sincere and heartfelt apology for the actions of my brother. Zak was...,” he pauses, searching for the right words, and I flinch at the mention of his brother’s name.
“He was ambitious and bullheaded. He had a very particular way of seeing the world and how it should be, and I’ve been on the receiving end of what happens when it doesn’t go his way,” he offers, hanging his head repentantly.
White hot rage surges through me. As if Rhyven is the victim here.
I know it’s cruel, but I say it anyway, “I hope, at least for your sake, that those particular traits don’t run in the family.”
He huffs a laugh, “I suppose I deserved that. Unfortunately for Zak, he seemed to develop those traits of his own accord.” Rhyven looks at me with humility and something akin to pride, “My father raised me to be a good man, Elyssara. A noble, respectful man and I aim to honor his memory by living like someone he’d be proud of.
You can rest assured that Zak’s traits will die with him. ”
Despite every instinct screaming to hate him, I can’t ignore the quiet ache in his voice. We are not our kin. And maybe... he’s trying to prove that more than anyone. We should not be judged by the actions of those around us but by our own merits. As far as Rhyven goes, he’s never wronged me.
“I’m glad to hear it, Rhyven,” I say, softening my tone slightly, though I can’t entirely keep the bitterness from them. “I appreciate you taking the time to apologize.”
“As I’ve said to His Highness, I look forward to proving my loyalty,” he states. “Starting with capturing us all a hearty dinner,” he beams a smile at me, bowing slightly, and spins on his heel, nocking an arrow in his bow, before disappearing into the jungle.
I accept his apology, but wariness of him still lingers.
While the others set up camp, Jax attempts to teach me how to control my magic enough to light a fire—much to her chagrin. The conversation is light and playful, and the weight of the world feels like it lifts temporarily from my shoulders.
These people that I was raised to fear are beginning to feel more like the friends I was never allowed to keep.
Kael smiles easily around them, obviously relaxed and unguarded in their presence.
I’ve seen Kael in battle. I’ve seen him command.
But this—this boyish grin, this light in his eyes—it’s the version of him no one else gets to see. And he’s letting me see it.
Rhyven stumbles into the clearing, a river elk slung across his back, nearly crumbling under its weight.
Daelen licks his lips, “Despite your brother being an absolute twat, I’m very fucking happy you came, Rhy, if for no other reason than I’d be very hungry without you.”
Rhyven’s cheeks flush, a shy smile tugging at his mouth. He throws the river elk down onto the ground and pulls out his skinning knife.
“And of course, everyone is stoked I came because...” Ronyn reaches into his saddle bags, pulling out three silver flasks, “I brought Ashbrew!” He brandishes the flasks and his signature lop-sided grin and adds, “And because of my insanely good looks, of course.”
“I’ll take the flask over the looks,” Therion jests, snatching the flask from Ronyn.
“I wouldn’t mind both,” Jax says with a sensuous purr, winking at Ronyn and setting his cheeks aflame with embarrassment.
“Jaxxy,” Merrik chastises, shaking his head, but he can’t keep the smile from his lips.
“Teddy! Pass it to me—the only liquor I have is for festering wounds,” Rubi pleads petulantly.
“Absolutely fucking not,” Therion quips, pursing his lips. “Not after last time you had Ashbrew.”
“What happened last time?” I ask with a sly smile, my tone practically begging.
“Teddy’s being a baby,” she says to me, then turns back to Therion. “It wasn’t that bad. I had quite a bit of fun, actually.”
Therion rolls his eyes, exasperated, “The last time we drank together, Rubi picked wild mushrooms and told us they were safe to eat,” he explains. “Let’s just say she was wrong,” he narrows his eyes at her, obviously still holding a grudge.
“I wasn’t wrong, Teddy. I lied—there’s a difference,” Rubi teases.
“Therion ran around Thornewood naked, pretending to be a duskprowler,” Kael chimes in, that smirk of his dimpling his cheek.
Seren gasps, clapping her hands over her mouth, “Oh I’m sorry,” she stammers. “That sounds... interesting,” she smooths down her skirts, trying to distract us from her flushed cheeks that have sprung to life. Therion notices her blush, and an almost imperceptible smile graces his lips.
“See? We had a good time,” Rubi shrugs nonchalantly. “Things can get dull around here—I like to shake them up.”
“Nothing is ever dull with you, Rubes,” Therion grumbles, but there’s no mistaking the fondness in his tone.
Laughter ripples around the fire, and for a moment, I forget the prophecy, the power, the pressure. For a moment, I’m just Elyssara. I’m just here... with them.
Laughter, liquor, and light conversation float around the fire while Rhyven prepares the elk.
I listen to stories about Kael as a young boy and all the mischief he and Therion got up to. He listens and laughs, entwining his fingers with mine, unabashedly claiming me as his in front of his friends. His council. His kingdom.
I feel the tears welling in my eyes. Is this what it feels like to grow up with friends?
To be part of something? To be chosen? To belong?
I let myself believe—just for a breath—that this will last. I get lost in my thoughts of belonging, of family, of having someone know you as a child, and to still know you as an adult, and all the nostalgic stories and memories you’d build together.
The idea is foreign to me, having hidden myself for as long as I can remember.
Rhyven interjects, “You know, Elyssara, His Highness used to tell stories of who’d be at his side when he one day ruled.” He looks at Kael, a conspirator’s grin spreading across his face. It was the first time I’d seen him look at Kael this way—like a friend rather than his prince.
“For fuck’s sake,” Kael cringes, which only makes me want to hear it more.
“For all the Stars in the sky, please tell me,” I plead eagerly.
“What was it, Therion?” Rhyven looks to Therion for confirmation.
Therion smirks slightly, “Something about a woman who felt more comfortable with a blade in her hand and blood marring her face, I believe.”
Kael groans, burying his head in his hands.
“That’s right,” Rhyven agree. “And something about a woman who wanted to fight at his side, not hide in his tower.”
Kael barks a laugh, no longer able to hide his embarrassment.
“Looks like he found her,” Rhyven says, raising the flask high in the air. “To Elyssara, the woman who does not hide.”
“To Elyssara!” The group bellow in unison. My eyes are locked on Kael’s, unable to look away from him.
“To Elyssara,” he says softly, and something loaded hangs in the air between us that feels too good to be true.