Chapter Twenty-One
Elysia
The moment the carriage slows and touches down, the air shifts.
Elves are everywhere. Men and women alike step forward with graceful purpose, dressed in elegant garb that glimmers with woven threads of gold and white. They bow slightly as the carriage pulls in, and the sheer number of eyes trained on me makes my chest tighten.
Sorryn stands as the door is opened. He doesn’t seem surprised by the crowd. Instead, he leans toward me and murmurs, “Don’t worry. I assume you’d prefer a moment to breathe before the ball tonight. You’re not expected to meet anyone right now.”
Relief rushes through me. “Thank you,” I manage, keeping my voice low.
Maybe he is a decent elf. He isn’t Rhune, but so far he’s shown compassion and kindness.
He offers a smile and steps out of the carriage first, greeting the gathering crowd with practiced ease. I hesitate before stepping down, careful not to trip on the delicate steps. As soon as my feet touch the ground, a new figure steps forward.
She’s striking in a colder way than the others, tall as are all the elves compared to me, sharp-featured, with raven-black hair braided into a crown atop her head.
Her robes are pure white, trimmed in deep navy and gold, and her eyes are a shade of pale blue that borders on frost. Her presence is less welcoming and more clinical as she gazes at me.
“This is Maerel,” Sorryn introduces, gesturing toward her. “She’s my most trusted advisor. For the duration of your stay she will be your point of contact if you need anything.”
Maerel doesn’t bow like the others, only inclining her head slightly. “It’s my task to ensure you don’t get lost. Or, more likely, cause a political incident.”
Her tone is cool, almost amused in a detached way, but it rubs at the raw edge of my nerves. “I’ll try not to ruin anything,” I reply, my voice flat.
She blinks slowly. “Good. Come with me.”
The castle swallows us quickly with its vast, glowing halls lined with high, arched windows and drifting candles that hover midair. The walls hum faintly with magic, and at least twice I pass some kind of enchanted mirror that seems to flicker with movement just out of sight.
Maerel moves quickly, sparing no time to explain what we pass, and I don’t ask. The silence suits me fine.
She leads me to a corridor of white stone, lit by more floating candles and flanked with tall windows that overlook a bed of clouds.
A figure beside the door at the end of the hall turns toward us.
Rhune.
He’s leaning against the wall, arms folded. His expression is unreadable, jaw set tight. His eyes flick over me once like he’s inspecting me for any wounds, but he says nothing.
I freeze for a breath too long, then glance at Maerel as we come to a stop. “You will not go anywhere without me or your guard.”
“Of course,” I mutter, hoping my voice doesn’t betray the twist in my chest as I fight the urge to glance at him.
I offer a nod, and Maerel opens the door to my chamber. “I’ll return in two hours,” she says. “Be ready.”
Then she’s gone, leaving me alone with the elf who once held me as I shattered and is now guarding me like I’m a stranger to be protected.
He’s still leaning against the wall just beside the door, arms folded, posture lazy but eyes sharp. He doesn’t look at me right away. Just stares straight ahead like I’m not here, like I’m not the woman who once cried into his shoulder in a dream and whispered things I can’t seem to forget.
I hesitate, fingers curling against my palm. “I didn’t truly think you’d be with me at all times as my guard.”
He doesn’t move. “It is my duty.”
The response is clipped. I should thank him for his protection and step inside and pretend none of this matters, but I don’t. I can’t.
His eyes flick toward me briefly as I continue to stare at him and I wish they hadn’t. Because what I see there isn’t the warmth from my dreams. It’s something colder. Weighed down. Like every word he wants to say is being shackled inside him.
“Do you know what happened this morning?” I ask after a beat. “The grove. The testing. All of it.”
He shifts just slightly.
“My brothers and I know what happened,” he answers. His voice is low now, rough around the edges. “I’m sorry. For all of it.”
My throat tightens as the images return too easily. Thalia’s lifeless body in my arms. Virelle’s defiant final breath. The screams. The silence.
“It’s horrendous,” I whisper.
Rhune exhales slowly, and this time when he looks at me, there’s something breaking through. A crack in the ice.
“You’ll carry it with you,” he says. “Every day. That’s the cost of surviving something like that, but I won’t apologize for being glad you made it out.”
There’s a weight behind those words that surprises me after the cold exterior he’s presented until now.
“I’m not supposed to say this,” he mutters, almost to himself. “Not now. Not anymore.”
He steps forward, just once, and the air between us tightens.
“I wanted you to make it. Even if it meant you’d never look at me the same again. Even if it meant you’d end up somewhere I couldn’t follow.”
“Why?” The word leaves my mouth before I can stop it. “Why would that matter if you knew we could never …”
His expression hardens and I clamp my mouth shut. “Because your soul is the most pure I’ve ever witnessed and this world needs more of it, not less.”
My mouth pops open at the soft sentiment and my shoulders sag as I begin to feel comfort between us once more. Like this is a place where I don’t need to pretend I’m okay.
“Don’t do that,” he adds, voice quieter now. “Don’t look at me like that anymore.”
My brows pinch together. “Like what?”
His jaw clenches and he lifts his eyes to mine, and this time, he lets me see the weight behind them.
“Like I’m worth fighting for,” he says, each word deliberate. “We both have a duty now and none of it ends with you choosing the one who doesn’t have a court. The one who doesn’t belong.”
My mouth parts quickly to rebut. “You’re more than—”
“No, I can’t be anything more to you,” he cuts in. “Not here. Not anymore.”
The silence stretches between us again. Even though his words feel like the bite of cold from the winter cycle settling into my bones, I can’t stop the memories from rolling through my mind.
The way he once touched my cheek, the way he anchored me with nothing but his presence, the way he worried when I didn’t dream and he couldn’t find me.
My eyes flutter shut as I let out a heavy breath. That elf doesn’t exist here.
He turns, steps back into place beside the door, eyes forward again like the conversation never happened, and I know what he’s doing. He’s building walls between us before either of us gets the chance to try to knock them down.
I walk into my new room and the door clicks shut behind me with a softness that still manages to feel final.
Silence settles over the room, broken only by the faint hum that seems to linger in the castle walls. I take a step forward, hesitant, eyes sweeping across the space.
It’s beautiful, but of course it is.
The chamber is carved from smooth ivory stone, accented with flowing gold trim and tall windows veiled with sheer curtains that flutter with the breeze.
The bed is massive, draped in pale linens that shimmer faintly like starlight, and a gilded vanity sits near the far wall, its surface littered with delicate glass jars and brushes.
It hits me then, the emotional toll of this day, and it’s not even over yet.
This morning I saw women senselessly killed, and tonight I’m expected to dance and chat with new people, like none of it ever happened.
I sink onto the edge of the bed, fingers curling into the fabric, grounding myself in something real. Something solid. Because my chest is caving in and my throat is tight and I’m not sure how to exist here without falling apart completely.
This place is more than what I dreamed about, back when Pat and I used to climb the hill behind the house, watching the clouds drift above the mountains.
I thought if I ever made it outside of my village, I’d feel like I had accomplished something. That I’d follow that sense of feeling like I was meant for more than our lands and feel at peace when I found it.
All I feel now is hollow.
I blink rapidly and stand, pacing toward the window. The city gleams in the distance, breathtaking in a way that doesn’t feel real.
I press my hand against the cool glass and exhale. My breath fogs the pane for a moment before fading like everything else that once felt close.
It’s funny how now all I wish is for a glimpse of the place I dreamt of leaving behind.
Is my mother tending the hearth and fussing over Penelope’s braid right now? Is my father still watching the road when the sun sets, wondering if his bravest girl will ever come home?
Is Pat finally at peace now that he’s been allowed to choose love freely?
I hope so.
I hope he’s wrapped in warmth and laughter. I hope Persephone said yes and that they’re planning an intimate and beautiful wedding.
My fingers reach for my braid, quickly brushing over the fabric Penelope pressed into my palm that final morning. It’s slightly frayed now, a little dusty from the road and everything since, but it’s still there. Still tethering me to them.
I press it to my lips, then to my heart.
“I miss you,” I whisper into the stillness.
The ache swells in my chest.
I wish I could crawl into my mother’s lap like I did when I was small and bury my face in her shoulder. I wish I could feel my father’s hand steadying mine, telling me everything will be alright, even when I knew it wouldn’t be.
I wish for a hundred things that will never be again.
My knees buckle slightly and I sit down on the edge of the bed once more, hands gripping the ribbon like a lifeline as the tears fall in silence. Not in gasping sobs or shattered cries, just soft, quiet heartbreak leaking from a girl trying not to fall apart.
Because I can’t.