Chapter 34
?──── Serenya ? ────?
My shadows take me into my chambers in Syltheriel; the familiar scent of lavender greets me, but it does little to calm the tension coiling in my chest. Alira is already here, pacing, sharp eyes fixed on me like I’ve betrayed her personally.
“Where have you been?” she asks, each word clipped and pointed.
I pause, considering my options. I can’t tell her the truth yet. She hates Dimitri, and if I try to tell her the truth about him now, it will start an argument I don’t have time for. So I change the subject. “How are the men doing? Koen, Lioran, and Asbel?”
Alira frowns at my evasion but answers. “They’re fine. Torin says he thinks they’re ready for the final trial.” She doesn’t elaborate, doesn’t volunteer anything more.
Before I can say anything else, the door swings open. Torin steps in, his stride purposeful. His steps falter when he sees me. Relief is nowhere on his face. No, his expression becomes rigid, irritated.
“Serenya,” he says sharply. “Where were you?”
I hesitate, words caught in my throat.
It doesn’t matter, though, because Torin doesn’t wait for me.
His voice rises with each sentence out of frustration.
“The last time we saw you, you ran off to chase after Koen, and then he showed up without you. You send a letter saying you’re okay, but you don’t tell us where you are or what happened.
I had to lie to Queen Zephyra when she asked.
She didn’t believe me and came looking for you herself.
The king needed another healer because we didn’t know where the hells you were.
Koen kept asking about you every day, and we had to cover for you.
He said you were in pretty bad shape the last time he saw you. What happened?”
I stay silent, caught off guard. I’m not sure what to say. I can’t explain the chaos of the last month with a single explanation.
His eyes narrow, frustration turning to insistence.
“It’s been twenty-eight years, and you’re still randomly running off alone, sulking.
It’s time to move forward. The trials aren’t waiting for anyone, no matter how badly you despise them.
You can’t pout, you can’t disappear, and you can’t avoid your responsibilities.
Everyone can see you’re still stuck in the past. They all walk on eggshells around you, afraid of triggering you.
But it’s time for you to move on, Serenya.
You’re about to take the throne. We can’t have a queen only half-present. ”
Alira tries to intervene. “Torin—”
He cuts her off, taking a step towards me. “I lost him, too, Serenya. He was my brother in everything but blood. But life doesn’t pause. I don’t know where you’ve been for the last month, but I am done covering for you.”
His words cut deep. He’s never talked to me like this. My throat tightens. “I need you both to leave,” I say, calm but firm. “I have to get ready.” I don’t wait for an answer. I slip past them into the washroom, shutting the door behind me.
Alone, I let Torin’s words sink in. I know he’s right. But it doesn’t erase the painful sting of what he said.
I sink into the warm bath, letting the water ease the tension in my muscles.
The worry slightly slips from my shoulders as I allow myself a moment of peace.
This one night is mine — a chance to see Koen, to speak with him, to be in his presence again without the weight of everything else pressing down on us.
I slide on my robe, letting each movement ground me. When I step back into the chamber, Torin is gone, but Alira is still here, her expression softening slightly at my approach.
“I’m sorry about him,” she says quietly.
I shake my head, giving a small, tired smile. “It’s alright. But I don’t want to talk about it now.”
She nods, understanding. “Then we’ll do it like old times. Get ready together?”
I laugh softly. “Yes. Let’s do that.”
Alira and I get ready in near silence, though the air between us is calmer now.
She hums faintly as one maid weaves her hair into a braid, while the other maid helps me into my dress.
The gown Dimitri gave me clings to my frame as though it were made just for me alone; black fabric shimmers faintly when I move.
My hair is half-pulled back in a braided crown, the rest falls in loose waves over my shoulders.
When I glance at Alira, she is radiant in a dark green, shimmering gown, her red hair braided elegantly down her back. She catches my eye and smiles, and it feels just like old times. Two cousins dressing for a night of court, before responsibilities had dug their claws into us.
Together, we walk the long halls toward the ballroom, our guards trailing behind us. When we arrive, the large mahogany doors are opened, and the herald’s voice rises above the murmur of the crowd.
“Her Royal Highness, Princess Serenya of Syltheriel.”
Every eye in the ballroom turns toward us. We pause at the top of the wide staircase. I force myself to keep my chin high, though my heart hammers.
My eyes scan the ballroom until, finally, they land on him.
Koen stands across the room, tall, shoulders squared, dark hair catching in the light. His gaze is already locked on me, unflinching, filled with something that makes my breath catch—relief, and beneath it, something I can’t name.
I can’t look away. Not as Alira and I step slowly down the stairs. Not as the crowd parts below us. His eyes follow every step I take. I don’t care how many eyes are on me; his are the only ones that matter, and mine refuse to stray from them.
At the bottom, Torin appears at Alira’s side, offering his hand. She takes it gladly, and they move to the dance floor. Koen takes a step in my direction, something burning in his eyes. My breath stills—
“You look stunning, Princess Serenya,” Lioran says, sliding between us with ease. He bows low, flashing a smile. “Will you grant me the first dance?”
I hesitate, torn between the man across the room and the one before me. But refusing would only draw attention. So I place my hand in his and let him lead me to the dance floor.
His palm is warm at my waist, my hand resting lightly on his shoulder as we move to the music. “It’s a relief to see you well again,” he says smoothly, though for once his voice carries genuine relief beneath the bravado.
“And I’m glad to see you didn’t die in the second trial,” I answer.
He smirks, tilting his head. “The trials won’t be rid of me so easily. You’ll have to do better than ancient monsters if you want me gone.”
A surprised laugh escapes me. “Good.”
His confidence is oddly comforting, too. It makes things feel simpler.
Glancing over his shoulder, my eyes instantly find Koen again. He hasn’t moved, but his jaw is tight as he glares at where Lioran’s hand rests at my waist. Heat pricks at my skin, and I force myself to look away.
Relief flutters in my chest when the song ends.
Koen steps forward, at last.
Before he can reach me, Asbel appears, bowing with practiced grace. “May I?”
Lioran releases me with a wink and exaggerated bow, retreating with all the satisfaction of a man who knows he’s stirred trouble.
Asbel takes my hand, his touch gentler than I expect, and leads me back into the swirl of dancers. His green eyes meet mine briefly. “It’s good to see you again. I’m glad you’re doing better. You were in poor shape, last I saw you.”
The memory makes my stomach twist. To know I had been seen so vulnerable, so close to death, by so many…I push the thought aside, keeping my face composed. “And I’m glad you survived,” I reply simply.
“Well, someone had to ensure our future king made it back safely. We both know Lioran can’t be trusted with Koen’s safety, much less his own,” he says with a playful smirk.
I laugh softly, enjoying this rare side of him. “Thank you for ensuring Koen’s safe return.”
I don’t bother denying that he is the future king. As much as I enjoy Asbel and Lioran’s company, there is no doubt in my mind that I will choose Koen in the end. He just needs to make it through the final trial.
One song ends; another begins. Again, someone steps forward to claim me before Koen can.
Partner after partner sweeps me into motion, a blur of faces, hands, and polite words that barely register.
All the while, I feel the weight of Koen’s presence somewhere nearby.
Always at the edge of the crowd, always just out of reach.
When, at last, I find a moment to catch my breath, I turn to search for him. My gaze scours the edges of the ballroom, the doors, the balconies. But I don’t see him.
The music fades behind me as I slip out onto a balcony. Cool night air rushes against my skin, chasing away the heat of too many dances, too many hands that weren’t the ones I wanted. I grip the stone railing and draw in a deep breath, the scent of the roses drifting from the gardens below.
Had Koen gone back to his chambers? The thought gnaws at me. He had looked at me as if he wanted to cross the room, as if he wanted to speak to me. And I let him slip away.
Frustration knots inside me. Tonight was supposed to be different. Tonight, I was going to find him. To speak with him. I’m not sure what I would even say. I just know I want to talk to him, hear his voice.
I tilt my head back, staring up at the stars.
They glitter like the gold threads in my gown, endless and untouchable.
Memories flood me from another ball, long ago.
Music, laughter, the weight of Kallan’s hand at my waist. The way he leaned close, whispered for me to follow him.
How we slipped away unseen, racing through the night until we reached our secret cave by the lake, hidden by stone and silence, where the glowworms shimmered like fallen stars. Our place.
Maybe if I went there, just for a little while, I could breathe again.
Before I can second-guess myself, I leave the balcony, moving through the halls and out of the palace—thankfully without a single guard trying to stop me. The path is etched into me as surely as my own heartbeat. I’ve walked it a thousand times in memory, even if not in person, for years.
The rocks part, the lake glimmers, and the cave mouth yawns before me. I step inside, cool, damp air wrapping around me. The faint sound of water rippling and the soft glow of worms covering the ceiling greet me.
I stop short, eyes widening.
He’s… here ?
Koen sits near the hot spring, the silver moonlight spilling through the cave opening to frame him. His profile is sharp, softened only by the glow around him, and for a moment, I can’t breathe. He looks like a dream made flesh. Familiar and impossibly new all at once. My heart skips a beat.
How could he be here? Why here, of all places?
His name slips from my lips in a whisper. “Koen…”
His head lifts, startled. Our eyes meet across the glow-lit cave, and I feel the world narrow to only this moment.
“What are you doing here?” I breathe, voice trembling with disbelief.