Chapter 19
Elora
Elora crouched low in the dirt, her fingers tugging halfheartedly at the stubborn weeds choking the garden beds.
The morning air was cool against her skin and the sky above was heavy with gray clouds.
It wasn’t raining yet, but the air carried the scent of it, wet stone and soil mixing with the faintest trace of salt from the distant sea and the acrid bite of coal smoke drifting from the forges.
The courtyard stretched out around her, bordered by the U shape of the Institute, the brick walls overgrown with moss and ivy, and the stone battlements with their iron gates leading to the docks and the forest. Wards milled about, their gray uniforms merging with the muted tones of the surrounding stone as they swept, scrubbed, or tended to other mundane tasks.
Elora’s eyes flicked toward the far side of the courtyard, where the entrance to the professors’ studies lay nestled under a series of stone archways. That’s when she noticed it, a flicker of light illuminating from a window. Tehvan’s study.
The sight sent a tangle of emotions twisting through her.
Anger flared, sharp and immediate, but tangled with something softer.
Confusion. Fear. Hope. Thorn’s words echoed in her mind.
You were nothing but a replacement, but.
.. no. That wasn’t possible. Tehvan had saved her.
Raised her. That wasn’t a lie. It couldn’t be. There had to be more to it. A reason.
Her hands curled into the dirt, fingers clawing at the soil.
She wanted to storm into that study, demand the truth, force him to explain everything.
Make it make sense. Another part—the part that remembered the love he’d always shown her, the protection—held onto the hope that this was all a misunderstanding. He promised.
She needed answers. No, she deserved them.
Thorn’s threat lingered. Speak to him, and you’ll both suffer. The warning should’ve been enough to stop her. It should’ve been. But as her gaze locked on that glowing window, the words suddenly meant nothing.
Answers first. Consequences later.
Elora scanned the courtyard. She noticed the other wards scattered about, busy with their own tasks, as guards lazily patrolled the battlements, their attention drifting.
She kept her movements slow, careful, continuing to pull at the weeds in front of her, pretending to focus on her work while her eyes darted to the entrance to the professors’ studies.
The door was just a few steps away. It was now or never.
She made it seem like she was still working, her body half-turned toward the garden, untangling leaves from the bushes, but her feet were leading her closer and closer to the entrance.
When she reached the doorway, she cast one last glance over her shoulder.
The guards weren’t looking her way, and the other wards were still occupied.
No one noticed as she quietly snuck inside.
The air in here was cooler, the scent of old books and alchemical ingredients stifling.
Her feet moved quickly, carrying her down the corridor, each step bringing her closer to the confrontation she had been dreading but needing.
The anger surged in her chest again, tightening her throat, but she stifled it, forcing herself to stay focused.
At the end of the hallway, she stopped outside the door to Tehvan’s study. The light she had seen from the courtyard was still shining. He was in there.
Elora’s hand hovered over the handle. This was it. There was no going back now. Thorn’s threats be damned. She needed to know the truth.
The door groaned open, pulling Tehvan’s attention from the parchment spread across his desk.
His head shot up, the quill in his hand pausing mid-stroke.
Just for an instant, his brows lifted, and his lips parted in a flicker of happiness at seeing her.
But it didn’t last. His shoulders tensed, and the faint smile faded as his eyes narrowed slightly, scanning her face and posture.
“Elora,” he whispered, dropping the quill and rising from his chair. “You shouldn’t be here.”
She closed the door behind her with more force than intended and turned to face him. She tried to ignore the comforting scent of incense and parchment she associated with him. With safety. With home.
“I don’t care what Thorn says. I need answers, Tehvan.”
His face softened, a mix of guilt and sorrow pooling in his eyes. He didn’t ask what she meant, he already knew. “Elora, it’s not that simple…”
“It is that simple,” she cut him off, stepping forward. “You kept things from me. Important things.” Her throat tightened, words catching. “Thorn said you…” she faltered, swallowing the lump forming. “That you saved me because of her. Because I reminded you of Florence.”
Tehvan closed his eyes for a moment and exhaled deeply, like he knew this conversation would happen, eventually.
“Was that why?” She inched closer to the man she thought—hoped—that she could still trust. “Was I just… her stand-in?”
“No.” The word shot out of him. He took a step towards her and gently touched her arm.
“Elora, you were never a replacement. I…” His hand released her and he raked it through his graying hair.
“Yes, you reminded me of her. I won’t lie about that.
But I didn’t raise you because of Florence.
I raised you because after losing Florence I needed someone to love, to care for.
Someone to save. You were on the brink of death.
You looked so beaten down. I knew you needed me as much as I needed you. ”
His words hit like a stone tossed into still water, ripples spreading out, distorting everything.
Part of her wanted to cling to what he said—to the warmth of being wanted, of being saved—but another part.
.. another part twisted at the admission.
Someone to save. Was that what she’d been to him? A project? A salve for his grief?
It should’ve made her angry. Should’ve made her lash out, shove him away, call him selfish. But... it didn’t. Not entirely.
He had saved her. That wasn’t a lie. Without him, she would’ve died in that cage. Alone. Forgotten. And hadn’t she clung to that for years? That someone cared enough to pull her out of the dark?
Gratitude, guilt, and anger bound her so fiercely that breathing was impossible. She wanted to hate him. Wanted to fall into his arms. Neither option felt right. Neither felt wrong.
No, focus. Getting caught in that mess of feelings would not help. Her arms folded across her chest, half a barrier, half a brace. “Then why didn’t you tell me? About Thorn. About... any of it?”
Tehvan’s gaze dropped, tension pulling at his shoulders.
“Because I didn’t want that part of my life to touch you.
” His voice was quiet but steady. “Abernathy, The Thorn Family... it’s toxic.
I spent years trying to be something different.
Be someone better. And I wanted you to have that chance too. ”
His eyes lifted, meeting hers. “It was about protecting you from being pulled into something dark and cruel. I thought... if you didn’t know, you’d be free of it.” He sighed. “Perhaps that was na?ve. But I didn’t want you carrying burdens that weren’t yours.”
She thought it over. Would she have seen him differently if she knew before all of this? Maybe.
Her jaw tightened as another thought—another wound—surfaced. “And Symond?”
Tehvan flinched.
“He took my punishments. Every one of them for years. Because of you.” She searched his face for any sign of regret.
Tehvan’s mouth opened, but no words came.
Elora swallowed hard, struggling to say what she needed him to hear. “He… he pinned me down. He spit in my…” She bit the inside of her cheek, willing her lips not to tremble. “I don’t blame him for what he did to me.” Her arms wrapped tightly around chest. “He deserved to be angry. To hate me.”
Tehvan froze. His whole body tensed, eyes wide, mouth slightly agape. When he finally looked at her, there was nothing restrained about his horror. He dragged his hand down his face, as if to wipe away the sickening look, but it clung to him.
“Elora… I…” His hands twitched at his sides like he wanted to reach for her, comfort her. But he didn’t. “It wasn’t meant to be like that. Thorn wasn’t supposed to single any one student out; he wasn’t supposed to torture him like he did. He twisted everything.”
“He’s your brother. You know the man he is, and you agreed anyway.”
Tehvan’s gaze dropped. “I tried to help Symond. I confronted Abernathy—so many times—he said he’d lighten up on the boy. And I thought he did. But Symond just became worse.” Tehvan shrugged, his shoulders drooping.
Did he try to help? Elora wanted to pin the blame squarely on Thorn. It would be simpler that way. But she couldn’t. Tehvan still gave him permission. Even if he tried to fix things later, just one punishment meant for her, inflicted on someone else, was too many.
“And the trials?” Her voice sharpened, bitterness creeping in. “Thorn said I was always going to fail. That no matter what I did, he would never let me pass” Her jaw clenched. “But the worst part… He didn’t have to do anything. I failed all on my own. Because of how you raised me.”
His expression tightened. “Elora—”
“You taught me compassion. You taught me to think for myself, to believe the world wasn’t cruel. And look where that got me. I tried to save Arria, and it ruined everything.” Her voice cracked; anger tangled with grief. “You raised me for the world you wanted, not the one we live in.”
Tehvan’s lips formed a tight line, but when he spoke, his voice was steady. “And I’d do it again.”
She blinked, taken aback. “What?”
“I won’t apologize for raising you to be better than this place,” he said, gesturing vaguely toward the walls around them. “I refused to mold you into an empty husk as the others were. You weren’t supposed to become another obedient tool for The Empire.”
His gaze softened. “You sought to save your friend. That wasn’t failure, Elora. That was humanity. You chose compassion over cruelty. If that’s what cost you the trials, so be it.”
She buried her face in her hands, digging her nails into her forehead.
This was all becoming too much. She wanted to believe all of it.
She’s not Florence’s replacement. He was protecting her from Thorn.
He tried to help Symond. He raised her right.
That was her limit at this moment. The rest of his words: the doubts, the excuses, and conveniences, she needed to bury those away.
“I’ve been tracking the ship schedules.” She felt Tehvan’s arms wrap around her, pulling her into him. “I’ll help you escape from here. I promise. Just give me some time.”
She couldn’t move, couldn’t accept the embrace or push him away.
If she pushed him away, if she rejected his words, she would have no one.
She would be alone, and that thought scared her far more than his lies or betrayals.
She would worry about that after he got her out of here. If it was even possible.