Chapter Twenty-Eight
Elysia
I’m already seated when the servers enter, an endless stream of beautiful Dromin elves with varying hues of blue to their skin.
All have their hair slicked back into high ponytails and I’m entranced at the uniform swish of their long hair as they walk.
Each one moves in complete silence as they place the dishes on the table in front of us with precision and care.
I expect them to vanish as quickly as they arrived, but they remain silent and still along the edges of the room. Perhaps waiting for a command.
My gaze drops to the plate in front of me.
Slices of something that looks like roasted fruit but shimmers faintly like it’s been dusted with powdered glass.
A rich purple sauce spills from its center like syrup.
Next to it is a thin item in the shape of leaves.
When I touch one it flakes apart, releasing a scent like cinnamon and firewood.
The food doesn’t stop coming.
Another plate is placed before me, some kind of meat with a glaze that has faint wisps of steam curling into the air. The aroma is salty but with an underlying sweet scent. It makes my mouth water, even as my stomach coils tighter.
It’s beautiful and it makes me feel entirely human.
The food I know doesn’t glow. It doesn’t hum. It doesn’t look like carved art.
I glance across the table at Sorryn and wish with everything in me that it were my family across from me, eating root stew and discussing our routine days.
My eyes flutter shut as I imagine their table suddenly overflowing with meats, cheese, and anything else their hearts desire, once the blessing touches our village.
I know they’d give it all up to have me back, but it calms my own longing for home to know that they will be taken care of once I make my decision and receive the blessing from the Goddess.
A soft thud has my eyes opening again to a small silver bowl being placed at the edge of my large plate.
I thank the server, but they step back without a response or even incline of their head in acknowledgment.
The weight of eyes on me pulls my attention to Sorryn once more and a chill runs down my spine just as he glances away.
He hasn’t said much since we left the library and we’d been together for hours already. We only parted briefly upon his request that I freshen up for our early dinner as he handled final preparations for it.
I thought I’d caught Rhune’s scent in my chamber, but I still have yet to see him since I’d steered Sorryn away from the dangerous truth of my studies. Disappointment curls in my chest as nerves begin to blossom within my stomach.
Where is he?
Maybe I was beginning to become too dependent upon the safety his presence brings me.
During the walk through the royal gardens, Sorryn’s usual cheery disposition had begun to melt away as we traveled the paths winding with silverleaf vines and bioluminescent blooms that closed when I touched them. He gave answers when I asked questions, but nothing more.
“You may leave us,” he announces, startling me from my thoughts.
The servers obey instantly, robes whispering across the floor as they disappear through the side doors.
I reach for the glass beside my plate and take a small sip to steady myself at the weight of being alone with him now. Whatever’s in it tastes like chilled fruit, sweet first, then sharp on the back of my tongue.
I try to break the increasingly uncomfortable silence. “The garden was beautiful. I’ve never seen plants that respond to movement like that.”
He doesn’t answer immediately, finishing the bite of food in his mouth. He dabs his lips with a napkin before setting it aside with careful precision.
His head tilts slightly to the side as he regards me. “Some magical plants respond to affinities, others depend upon the season and weather, what they will do. A few even respond to bloodline.”
That wasn’t what I expected. I shift in my seat, remembering the silver vines that had gleamed like small, polished dagger tips and curled toward me like a friend. Had that meant something when they moved toward me?
I push the thought away and gesture toward the food. “Everything smells incredible. I’m still trying to figure out what I’m actually eating.”
He hums once. “You’ll adjust.”
The smile he offers is thin. It’s not cruel, but it isn’t kind either.
I need to get him back on my side, at least until it’s time to leave this court behind and journey to the Nithrin. The thought is sobering. I used to fear having to travel to the Court of Nightmares, and now I long for their shadows.
Even in such a short time in this Court of Dreams, it is easy to see there is something dangerous and corrupt beneath the beauty. I just need to survive it.
I try again to strike up a conversation. “Thank you for joining me. I know you have responsibilities—”
“What did you learn today?” he asks, cutting me off before spooning more food into his mouth.
I blink.
It’s not the question that unsettles me, but the sharp precision of it. How it lands without a natural buildup to it.
I thought I’d done a decent job in distracting him, but it seems I overestimated my powers of persuasion.
I sit back slightly and soften my expression, preparing to enter a game of mental chess. “A lot. Honestly … most of it was overwhelming. It’s hard to reconcile how much of your world humans were never told of.”
His utensil stills and his eyes don’t leave mine, waiting for more.
I press on with wonder in my tone, which isn’t entirely made up. “We spent a while on the magical affinities. Serenath said some queens have an inclination for one, even before their blessing, and that I need to prepare for it by having an understanding of the different types.”
If he asked me for details on any specific types, I’d be in trouble.
I let my shoulders sag just a little. “She said it can be really overwhelming if you don’t know what to expect. Still … I guess I’m worried I might not have one. That I’ll fall short and fail you.”
It’s a lie, but a carefully woven one. I let the insecurity sit in my voice. I let it make me look smaller to the king, who loves to feel large enough to swallow a room whole.
For a moment, he just looks at me like he’s trying to peel the skin off my words to see what’s underneath.
Then he leans forward. His hand rises slowly, cupping my cheek like he’s about to say something soft and kind as he’s done in the past.
His smile fades and his voice drops low.
“You’re a liar.”
My breath catches.
He doesn’t raise his voice in his accusation. He doesn’t snarl or shout. The words are soft, almost intimate.
You’re a liar.
My heart punches against my ribs. I try to hold his gaze, keep my expression open, confused. Not afraid. Not confirming.
“I’m not sure what you mean,” I whisper, playing the part of a mere stupid human.
A mistake, apparently.
His hand slides from my cheek to the back of my head, fingers tangling in my hair and knocking loose the crown from my head. It clatters across the floor as he grips the roots of my hair.
I gasp, the sound sharp and involuntary as he yanks me forward, dragging me from my chair. The feet scrape against the stone floor as my knees knock into the table, the pain white and sudden.
He stands as he pulls, and I’m forced to rise with him. My scalp burns. My spine arches from the pressure.
Fear blooms.
Where is Rhune?
Why hasn’t he come?
He’s always in the shadows, always watching. He promised.
I try to steady my voice, even as it trembles. “If this is about the tomes …”
Sorryn laughs, a sharp, guttural sound that cuts through the heavy tension in the room.
“You really thought you were clever,” he says, voice thick with mockery. “Leading me away from the library like some master manipulator.”
His grip tightens, and I cry out softly, the pain lancing through my skull.
“You thought I didn’t notice how carefully you played that moment? Serenath feeding me those polished lies. Rhune doing everything he could not to speak … He never does that. He lives to provoke me, but today he went still as stone at my questioning.”
His head dips close, his breath warm against my ear.
“You think I wouldn’t notice that shift?”
I whimper. My scalp feels like it’s tearing, but I stay upright, legs shaking beneath me. I try to plead with my eyes, but he doesn’t look at me like a queen to court. Not anymore. They’re glassy and cold.
“Let go,” I manage to whisper.
He doesn’t.
Instead, he raises his free hand and snaps his fingers.
The dining hall doors swing open and Enari steps inside. A small gasp escapes me at the sight of her.
Her steps are stiff, unnatural. Her spine too straight and her arms too controlled, not swinging as they naturally would as one walks. The blue tattoos inked across her skin pulse with magic, glowing brighter with each breath she takes.
Her eyes flick toward mine, just for a second, and in that gaze is a thousand silent apologies.
“Bring in the prisoner,” he says, voice light again, like we’ve returned to polite conversation.
Enari jerks forward, her body moving rigidly and reluctantly before disappearing down the corridor.
Footsteps return and my stomach lurches at the new figure.
“Serenath,” I whisper.
Enari is dragging her.
Her head is bowed, the long braid of white hair trailing behind her like an afterthought.
One of her eyes is nearly swollen shut, the other bloodshot and dazed.
Fresh bruises are beginning to bloom across her cheek and jaw.
Blood trickles from the corner of her mouth, a steady and quiet drip against the floor, leaving a trail.
I try to run to her. To help. To break us out of this wretched court.
Sorryn holds me firmly and pain flares through my scalp again as he yanks me back toward him.
I scream as the pain of his grip shoots down my spine.
Serenath groans as she’s dropped beside the table next to us. Her head rolls against the stone floor, her breath shallow.
“What did you do to her?” I cry out, my body beginning to shake as I take in her wounds up close.
Sorryn doesn’t even look at her, his gaze still on me.
“I didn’t believe any of you,” he murmurs, brushing a loose strand of hair away from my face like we’re still at a dinner party in which he’s trying to make me swoon.
“But the gardens confirmed what I suspected after that odd interaction. You possess a magical inclination that requires the forbidden section.”
His eyes narrow.
“I just haven’t figured out yet how you have that bloodline.”
My breath stalls in my throat as true confusion grips me. “I’m not sure what you mean,” I murmur honestly, willing my voice to remain even.
He stares down at me with a glee in his wide eyes just before his lips peel back into a predatory smile.
I’m looking at a man who was always like this. I just hadn’t seen beneath the mask yet.
He laughs, but it’s not amusement that shakes through him. It’s mockery.
The sound anchors the nerves inside me, letting loose my anger. It settles beneath my fear—not replacing it entirely, but becoming something I can wield alongside it.
I don’t have magic, but I do hold power in this world.
I remember what Rhune said in the library and what Serenath warned. I remember the way every page of their history told me the same thing, again and again, in different ways.
I am the Queen and they need me.
This court and their king … this castle of fractured dreams—they’re husks of what they could be, without the Goddess’s blessing.
The only way Sorryn can secure that is through me and my choice.
My voice is raw, but even when I lift my chin and look him in the eyes. “If you want any chance of being chosen as my king,” I say, “you’ll let me go. Now.”
He doesn’t move, but I see the flicker of tension in his jaw. His grip remains tight.
“You made the wrong move,” I continue, voice steadying with each word. “Hurting me. Hurting Serenath. Using Enari like a puppet. You don’t win a queen by making her people bleed.”
The silence that follows stretches, but then, without a word, he releases me.
I stumble back a step, breath caught in my throat. My head throbs where he gripped me, the echo of pain sharp and lingering. I don’t look away from him, even as my legs scream to flee.
He begins to laugh as if he’s just heard the best joke of his life. It rolls through the hall, echoing back, over and over.
I refuse to flinch despite the way the sound has my stomach churning.
“Run, my Queen.”
The words are so soft they almost vanish beneath the sound of his laughter, but I hear them.
I glance at Enari, still standing with her glowing tattoos pulsing faintly along her skin.
“Please,” she bites out. “She’s coming.”
Before I can react, a new voice answers the space with chilling clarity.
“She was supposed to be easy to mold,” she continues, hands folded neatly in front of her. “I trusted the orb would guide her toward the same outcome as the last queen.”
I freeze.
The High Priestess steps forward from behind a side door, gliding past the stone pillars with the kind of grace that doesn’t match the destruction she leaves in her wake.
“The orb told me she had unwavering faith in the Dromin, my King.”
My throat tightens as the memory slams into place. “When you’re tested, think of me. Only me,” Rhune had whispered.
I thought he meant it as comfort, but he knew.
He knew what they did to the last queen. What they are now trying to do to me. Yet he’s forbidden from talking poorly about Sorryn or the previous queen.
The room seems to tilt slightly, my stomach churning with the realization. They weren’t looking for the true queen chosen by the Goddess, they were looking for a puppet. I wasn’t chosen because of who I am, but because of who they thought they could bend.
Maggie’s words haunt me. “She chooses what bends. Not what breaks.”
Sorryn turns toward me with a grin that makes my skin crawl. His eyes gleam as he watches me try to stitch my horrified expression back into one that doesn’t belie just how much fear this situation has stirred within me.
“You failed, Adamaris,” he says, voice almost playful. “But that’s all right. It’s not like I truly need her to choose me. We’ll simply take the choice from her.”