Chapter 5 #3
“You are dismissed, Sir Fritz.” Elva didn’t even look at him.
Her regard stayed fixed on the chessboard, her hand still clutching the pendant at her throat.
The faint glow of her magic burned against his skin, searing its dim imprint into his sleeve.
“You may return in thirty minutes, when my lunch and match are finished.”
His jaw tensed, teeth gritting audibly as he shoved the glass back into place, rubbing a hand over his peppered hair and bending at the waist. “Very well.” When he finally turned toward the door, each step hammered with his displeasure. “Thirty minutes,” he muttered again.
Meant for her, for me, for the room itself. It didn’t matter. Because whatever was written in that letter had rattled the princess of Luamis enough to spark her fading magic.
And that alone was reason to worry.
The door closed, reverberating through the chamber, and I dropped before her instantly. “What did it say, Elva?”
I didn’t care if the crown forbade her to share. Rules didn’t frighten me. The look on her face did.
The pendant slipped from her fingers, hitting her collarbone with a hollow sound. She blinked, lashes long enough to fan away the daze in her eyes, the glaze finally receding.
Then she gestured toward the board, toward the carved pieces still frozen mid-battle. “Shall we finish?”
The king piece shone between us, its shadow stretching long across the ivory squares. And in that instant, I knew, whatever words had found their way into her chest, they were not about a match of carved pieces.
They were about kingdoms. About thrones.
About fate, already setting its pieces into place.
My fingers hovered over the knight, paused, then shifted, picking up the bishop instead.
Elva shrieked, scandalized. “What are you doing?!”
I blinked down at the board, utterly lost. “What?”
The pieces may as well have been carved from hel’s own riddles. She’d explained the rules a dozen times, but my mind was still circling the letter.
“Verena,” she jabbed her finger at the piece in question, “look at your knight.”
Thank gods for the gesture, because I’d genuinely thought that was the rook this entire time. Maybe that’s how Rook’s parents had chosen his name, deciding mid-game.
“You could take my queen in this move!”
That sounded important. Maybe even dire. I still didn’t care. I only played for Elva’s sake, never to win.
Which, for someone who loathed losing as much as I did, said everything.
I blew out a breath, collapsing backward into the plush cushion. “Why would I want to do that?”
She made a soft, despairing noise. “Have you been paying any attention?” Her hand pressed dramatically to her chest. “If you spent half as much focus here as you do during training, you’d be a master already.”
Damn right.
She leaned forward. “If you take my queen, my king is unguarded.”
Oh. That part, at least, I remembered.
“Why are you telling me how to win?” I plucked a grape from the silver dish.
Elva’s lunch still sat untouched, though the aroma clung to the air. My empty stomach all but begged, though I knew she’d offer if she caught the sound.
She adjusted her position, rubbing the back of her arm. The breeze had died, the sun spilling straight through the open window. It burned across her like a spotlight, gilding her in a ferocity she didn’t notice.
“It’s important,” she said too softly, even for her.
“For me to learn how to play chess without entirely humiliating myself?”
Before she could answer, a lump of ginger fur bounced onto my lap.
“Gods, Lulu, you absolute oaf.” I shoved the feline down. “I am not your mother.”
As if I had to remind her. She’d been attached to Elva’s heels since the day she could walk. The cat hissed, offended, before sauntering to Elva.
She giggled, scooping Lulu onto the sofa beside her, fingers scratching gently behind her ears.
Around her neck, a delicate collar gleamed. From it dangled a small heart pendant, almost identical to Elva’s, its surface engraved with a single name: Lumen.
“No,” Elva sighed, deep enough even the cat tilted its head. “Sometimes you must sacrifice your queen for the king to triumph. And that’s okay.”
“Sounds moronic to me.” I stifled a yawn. “Isn’t the queen the most powerful piece on the board?”
Lulu stretched out luxuriously, smug, and boneless. I envied her. No responsibilities but to pester and nap. Meanwhile, I was left puzzled over a game that suddenly didn’t feel like a game at all.
“Yes,” Elva reached for the tray, spearing a cooled slice of chicken, and relief loosened in my chest. At least she was eating now. Perhaps whatever words had been in that letter had finally settled. “But the king is the most important,” she went on, lifting the fork. “A symbol of power.”
I froze. She did not just fork-feed her damned cat.
Lulu licked her lips like royalty, purring as though she’d been crowned.
“And the queen isn’t?” I asked, incredulous.
Another sigh, this one barely audible, but still too damn heavy. “She is. But not in the same way. You can’t win with your queen.”
Enough of this.
I snatched up a knight and toppled her king in one decisive strike. The piece clattered, ringing louder than it should have.
Elva just stared.
As I leaned in, she leaned back, retreating into herself. “I know what you’re doing.” My voice was sharper than I meant it to be. “I don’t care who the king is. You,” I threw a finger at her, “will always be the most important piece in this kingdom. Do you understand that?”
The silence after was dreadful. Once Elva faintly wiped a tear before it could fall, I knew the game was over. Her arms wrapped tight around herself, shoulders drawn in as though she could vanish.
“You should know,” she whispered, posture crumpling inward. “The letter…”
I rounded the table in a heartbeat, sliding onto the cushion beside her. Lulu hissed, tail lashing, and I hissed right back, staking my claim as she leapt off in a huff.
I pressed close, nearly on top of her. “Elva, what happened?”
A river of tears streaked down her cheeks; she didn’t bother to wipe these ones away. The chamber lights began to flicker, shadows swaying across peach and ivory walls.
Subtle at first, then multiplying. The harder Elva cried, the more they danced, mocking her with their sway.
Her fist clenched the pendant at her throat; knuckles bleached as her gaze lifted to the wavering glow above. “Stop.”
The light did not obey her. The shadows only thickened, growing across the wall in their play. The room shifted. The cloying scent of roses and amber seeping sharp into my nose.
“STOP.” Her cry was sharper, fists slamming to her sides.
And then—darkness.
The glow sputtered, dying with a taunt, the room becoming muted and still. Elva’s chin dropped to her chest, defeated.
She was born as sunlight incarnate. Meant to shield, to comfort, to radiate. And now that light was absent, and what remained was chilling.
I seized her shoulders, forcing her to face me. “What is it?”
Her stare went vacant again, her skin on the verge of frost. I searched for the lost blanket, finding it draped where I’d sat moments before. I tucked it around her shoulders, sealing the balcony doors until the view of Csolenia blurred behind the glass.
I settled back beside her, threading my fingers through hers. A silent vow. I’m here.
For a breath, it worked. Her eyes found mine, only to show me the weight of her despair.
“I am to marry,” she whispered, the words a shackle clinking into place. She swallowed hard. “In a month.”
Her stare didn’t move from mine, not even as tears tracked down her rose-stained cheeks. She just looked, pleading for reassurance, for strength.
The silence inside me rippled into violence as I asked, “Prince Perseus?”
Her fingers slipped from the pendant at her throat, falling limp. “Yes.”
The single word broke me, letting me miss what she mumbled beneath her breath. And then I saw it—the bruising—deep purples and sickly blues, wound around her upper arm like a brand.
My fury surged as I jolted to my feet.
She had glamoured it from me. Thought she could hide it. But now—
Her porcelain skin betrayed her. Fingerprints, evident as chains.
So. Fucking. Clear.
I unclenched my throat, just enough to cover the rawness, but it didn’t swallow the white-hot fury coiling behind my ribs. The bruise looked like someone had pressed the night into her skin.
Perseus. The name tasted like rot. Like death was on its way.
My shoulders tensed, my chest hammering as my fingers twitched with the urge to strike. She flinched the tiniest fraction, not from the pressure of my grip but because my face had changed.
Heat simmered awake somewhere behind my eyes, keen-fanged amusement at the idea of unmaking a man who called himself entitled.
I would kill him for this. I would rip his tongue through that monstrous arrogant smirk and choke him with it.
Oh my gods, the Viper laughed with me, I couldn’t fucking wait.
But right now... right now Elva needed me, not the curse or the hunger, just me.
“Elva—”
Her eyes slid away. “I had a glamour on.” The explanation was paper-thin, an attempt to stitch a wound closed with silk. And it trembled in the space between us. “That’s why you haven’t seen them.”
How many times had that hand landed and she’d folded light over the bruise like a lie? How many days had she hidden this, praying it would not be noticed? How long had I been blind to it?
Callum... oh gods, if he knew—
She squeezed my fingers, knowing all too well where my thoughts have moved to. “Please—” The sound slipped from her like a frightened animal. “Don’t tell Callum.”
“Why?”
“Because I can’t risk what he’ll do.” The words tumbled out fast now. “Or what will happen to him. Or you.”
The lights in the chamber pulsed back alive, echoing her desperation, before steadying once more. She reached her free hand for mine, intertwining our fingers, as though I were the only tether keeping her from shattering entirely.
“I need you both more than ever.” She tried to smile, but it trembled at the edges. “I’m okay.” The lie was a blade pressed against her own throat. “I’m okay, Verena. I promise.”
The last word fractured. And I shattered with it.
I tucked my forehead to hers, breath coming hard and fast. The smallness of that promise blew the lid off whatever calm I had left.
I let the tears come because they were honest, tasting of iron and a vow I didn’t yet have words for. They ran hot and unstoppable, running down my cheeks in serried lines.
I didn’t wipe them away; I let her see it all. The rage, the sorrow. That I would protect her better.
I would burn kingdoms for her.
I would flay Perseus until his name itself bled.
“My job is to protect you, El.” I didn’t cry, rarely had. Sadness was wasted breath when rage could be a fist in a throat. But today, the old rules unraveled as grief came anyway, blistering, and traitorous.
Her hand reached up, brushing a tear from my cheek before blending it with her own. Vibrance still clung to her skin. Fear did too.
“Do you really think there would be no repercussions?” she whispered.
“Is that why you hid it from me?” My voice cracked. “How many times has he hurt you like this?”
The more I pictured Perseus’s hands crushing her fragile skin, the more I had to talk myself out of storming from this room and ending him, messily, gloriously, this very instant.
Fangs dragged across my thoughts. Deep breaths, Verena. Don’t let it win.
Her chin dropped. “The entire point has been for me to likely marry Perseus. Even if I’d told you, it wouldn’t have mattered.
” She shook her head once, golden hair trembling like a fall of light.
“I’m just one step in Obrann’s plan. And he won’t let it fail.
No one will risk the kingdoms falling again.
Not once the true heirs sit on their thrones.
I’ll be married and crowned before every watching eye in Selvarra.
” Her laugh was so damn thin. “And then locked away, until I’m needed. ”
The last place Elva should be was unseen.
And yet, she was right. If she’d told me sooner, if I’d acted too soon, it would have left me in the ground and her worse off. But the plan that was already in motion... it would change everything.
I dropped to my knees before her, the world narrowing to her face, to the slope of her cheek in my palms, the salt from her tears bleeding into the lines of my hands. “I will personally, and gladly, remove both their heads before I let that happen.”
Her composure broke. Tears came harder as she slid from the cushion and into my arms. And I let her, held her, my light and closest friend, while she broke against me.
A hiss vibrated from within, rage without form, humming with hunger for avengement.
Perseus would be erased. Obrann’s design would be shattered.
Not loud. Not yet. Quiet first, like cracks in stone. A guard’s shift altered until the right man was gone at the right hour. A locked door on the night soldier’s rounds. An empty sheath when he reaches for his dagger.
I stroked her hair, pressing my cheek to her forehead, letting her think my comfort was the whole of it.
But in the hollow between her breaths, I mapped vengeance.
The hunt had begun and the Viper wore my rage like a crown.
I left the palace only hours after I arrived. Council doors stayed shut to me; I was never meant to sit where decisions wore power.
Yet by the time Fritz returned to Elva’s rooms, escort duties crisp and submissive, the dread had drained from her face. Not gone. Just smoothed into her spine.
A practiced resilience.
Cold scraped against my skin as I left the gates. Maybe it was winter’s breath. Maybe it was the gods, their icy watch pressing down to remind us they saw the taint threading through their continent.
Either way, the world felt small beneath the sky’s eye.
Csolenia stretched loudly around me, and even with the noise, I felt impossibly alone.
I never let guilt rule me. But for Elva, I would let it strip me bare. For her I would grieve the life she deserved: not locked in a gilded cage and kept, but the freedom and choice she silently yearned for.
Scales rasped along the cage of my ribs, twining, squeezing, waiting for the moment wrath outweighed fear, my bones slowly cracking beneath its hold.
Today, the balance had shifted and the beast leaned forward.
Above me, the world began to dim. Pastels bruised into rose, and then violet, into the color of something bleeding out, the air thrumming with inevitability.
I didn’t need anyone. Not for this.
I had always known exactly how to save her.
It was just coming sooner than I imagined.
And the Viper smiled.