Chapter 24
Elsedora
Frost accumulated on the pub hallway windows; the first snow would be upon the North Corridor any moment. Months had passed since Lark’s eighteenth birthday; today it was mine.
At dinner tonight, my niece had been horrified to learn that I’d spent my eighteenth birthday attempting, unsuccessfully, to win her father’s affection. Back then, my own girlish crush on him had made the line between my savior’s kindness and potential feelings for me seem thin.
I’m glad Krait had been relentless in his dismissal. It pushed me, frustrated and rejected, into the training ring with an exiled Phynnic Prince who I, at first, loathed. It led me to a sleeping King that wouldn’t leave my mind.
A roar of laughter echoed down the blurred, dimly lit hall. My collarbone muffled his subtle groan before damp lips traced a line between my breasts. Hands shoved my skirt up around my waist. Hoisted against the dusty-green wallpaper, I gritted my teeth.
A pit formed in my gut.
Stop.
I should have returned home after dinner in Luz; why didn’t I ever learn?
“That’s enough,” I said.
The man, who had already released himself from his breeches, stilled. He looked right and left down the dingy hallway as though convinced someone was approaching us. The clank of glasses and the drunken bustle of the pub’s main hall dulled against the throbbing in my ears.
We stood beside a back door. “You want to go outside, love?” he asked—breath hot and suddenly burning against my cheek like a bad rash. His face was handsome, his stature tall, though a tad on the lankier side.
My mother used to say that I thrived on impulse.
I’d always known better.
I longed for a reaction. Two metal balls swinging together in a pendulum—breaking apart in equal measure. The way a man’s eyes hooded as he pushed inside of me, or how a woman’s breath hitched when I ran my lips up her neck. That is all it used to take to distract me.
Action. Reaction. Physical moments and nothing more.
Easy thrills no longer cut through the ache of loss. No reaction could veil my darkest moments. The pendulum had swung off course when Ryn had turned to dust and again when we’d buried that mirror.
I could not see the one smile that could break my piss-poor mood. I couldn’t visit Emmerick in that room in Luz. He lay too still.
“No, I’ve changed my mind,” I said.
“You’re joking,” he panted out. I pushed him away by the chest and returned to my feet.
This all felt so damned wrong.
His hair wasn’t dark enough, he wasn’t broad-shouldered enough, his breath smelled of ale, and the ground felt like it spun beneath me.
I sighed. “Afraid not. I’ve lost the mood.”
The man named... Ronan? Owan? Either way, he scowled and pulled away from me to buckle his breeches.
“Wicked fucking woman.”
“That has a nice ring to it,” I mused, smoothing down the skirt of my thick wool dress. Winter brought heavier clothing; I’d missed dressing for the snow while living in the Sahlms all those centuries. Though, I’d loved wearing as little as possible in the sweltering desert heat.
Ronan-Owan dragged his eyes up and down me as I slumped against the wall to stay upright.
I’d not successfully taken a lover in... the count of years wouldn’t come to me.
Sex used to be a favorite pastime, next to shopping at the night markets in Sahlmsara and primping for any occasion. Old habits convinced me to keep giving it a try—a birthday tryst, just what I needed. Wrong.
Once again, on the brink of copulation, I felt too empty to follow through.
There was the brunette guard in Helos. Sources, she’d been lovely.
Big brown eyes, and an eagerness that should have brought me to my knees in an instant.
I had stopped halfway through undressing her.
She’d cried, and instead of spending the evening worshiping her, as planned, I spent it convincing her she was breathtaking and that the problem lay with me.
Ronan-Owan let out an exasperated slew of curses before skulking off toward the bar.
Fuck it all. I wouldn’t find what I wished for in a quick fuck with a stranger or at the bottom of a bottle.
Glasses from the seedy pub hall clinked in cheers as someone struck up a tune with a fiddle. Drunken chanting began—something about a maiden learning knots from a sailor. It was repetitive and always ended in a creative way a woman could lose her honor.
Knot a lady, not no more.
What a load of horseshit.
Being chaste, obedient maidens had never gotten women anywhere worthwhile.
The hallway spun again.
I’d had far too much wine.
Fearing that the dizzying sensation of an Egress might make me sick, I’d opted to take a carriage home.
I should have feared the carriage more.
A mile away from the gates of Lamoreaux, I wretched on the upholstered seats.
Apologizing profusely, I gave the driver extra coins, then made the shameful walk down the frozen dirt path with my boots in-hand by their laces.
My toes went numb, but the chill kept me awake.
White, fluffy flakes fell from the sky. As expected, the first snowfall was upon us.
When I reached the front door, I bent over and wretched again into a potted fern. While I fumbled for my key, my attention snagged on some movement in the orchard.
“Hmm...”
A broad-shouldered man leaned against one of the plum trees. I narrowed my gaze, losing focus. Emmerick?
Only branches swayed at me—no man stood there at all.
I sighed out, “Oh, Elsie. How wishful.”
Once inside, I sank onto the sitting room sofa, where I’d inevitably fall asleep fully clothed. At least I’d taken my boots off. They made a loud thud as they hit the floor beside me.
I put my head between my knees and let tears drop to the wood floor between my dirt-covered feet. I’m not sure how long I cried, but eventually I’d tired myself out and slumped into a fitful sleep on the sofa.
A loud rapping noise startled me awake. With a hand on one of my throwing daggers, still sheathed on my belt from the night, I stumbled to the door and threw it open.
Leo stood before me—anguish etched into his features.
“Happy birthday, Elsedora. I wish I brought better news.”
I’d never sobered so quickly. Angeline and Leo had not shown for dinner in Luz. They’d sent no note.
“Leo,” I gasped out. “What’s wrong?” I should have checked in on them before romping about a pub.
“It’s Angeline,” he said. “She took a nasty fall today. The palace healer, Wyeth, is with her now and thinks she’s broken a hip. Angie is in so much pain, but she demanded that I come check on you and explain why she could not be at dinner this evening. I tried here earlier.”
Stupid, stupid girl... I’d changed my ways. I’d become less volatile. Who was I trying to fool?
Worry lines creased his face, making him look older even than the seventy-five I knew him to be. His black curls had turned mostly gray. I could see why Emmerick believed he was Leo’s son by blood—the broad shoulders, a defined jawline.
A kind heart.
Leo tilted his head, as though wanting to ask why my eyes were bleary. I’d never been a dainty crier and imagined I still looked affected.
I grabbed my dear friend’s father by the sleeve. “Come. We will take the Egress.”
“I...” He frowned. “I don’t love traveling by those things,” he admitted.
“Then, I am sorry for forcing it on you, but we’ll get you home quickly.”
We made our way into the hall of a thousand doors. In my fear-stricken state, it reminded me of the night everything changed. The way the sconces lit the space and blood roared in my ears brought back horrid memories.
I’d been seventeen, ripped from sleep.
“Elsie, wake up! Get on your boots,” Mama commanded. She pulled me down the stairs to get to the stone wall where the endless hallway lay hidden behind a ward.
Phynnic soldiers approached. They knew Mama and Papa housed Brennac magic-wielders. We were losing the Great War. The estate had fallen into Phynnic territory during a recent land dispute. It was no longer legal to wield Source magic at Lamoreaux—my parents were now deemed war criminals.
“Take the Egress. Find Fen. Whatever you do, Elsie, do not come back here.” My mother cradled my face and stared into my eyes. The dazzling hazel of her irises matched mine. Hers were lit from within like a fire stoked. “I love you, my whirlwind girl... Now go. Keep moving until we meet again.”
I reeled, stunned silent.
She lifted my cloak hood to obscure my face and pushed me into the Egress, sending me hurdling toward the burning city of Phynx.
Guilt had wracked me for years. I hadn’t returned those simple words. I love you, too, Mama.
My mother lived to help others. She’d died to help them, too.
Leo cleared his throat. “Are you alright, Elsedora?” he asked, his tone somber yet soothing.
I’d led him to the Egress while deep in thought. Standing there before it, I swallowed hard and nodded. “Oh, I’m fine. Just worried.”
“Should we step inside, then?” The lines around his mouth deepened.
“Yes, in you go. I promise it will be over in a blink,” I said.
We crowded into the space.
“To Luz Square,” I commanded.
The Egress whisked us away to the Central Corridor’s capital. I tried pushing the events that had followed that dreadful night centuries ago from my mind.
All I’d found when I’d arrived in Phynx was my brother betrayed by his betrothed, Firose, and a brooding Brennac King who had pity enough to take me with him into the Sahlms.
I’d hit rock-bottom that night.
I’d expected to never hurt so badly again.
I’d been wrong.
The fireplace roared in Angeline and Leo’s bedchamber. The room was dimly lit, and on a bench by the window, a colorful array of knitted quilts lay folded neatly.
“You’re drunk without me,” Angeline said through a wince before she gritted her teeth.
I laughed and settled down on the chair beside her bed, taking her hand in mine. “I’m quite sobered up after this news.”
Wyeth had given Angie something for the pain that made her eyes glassy. I’d caught my Soil-wielding friend on her way out.
She’d told me Angeline’s road to recovery would be a long one; she’d healed the bone enough to allow her comfort but couldn’t heal it entirely without risking making the hip brittle and prone to future breaks. Angeline still had a risk of infection ahead.
I would not let my mind focus on those worst-case scenarios.
“Just a slip. Don’t be dramatic.”
I slumped forward, squeezing her hand. “You broke a hip, Angie.”
“Quite spectacularly, too. I’ve got another one. It will be fine. I was more worried about you thinking I missed your birthday.”
One’s grit for pain matured with age. I saw it in the way Krait’s and Sybilla’s movements slowed when we dueled, yet they applied cold compresses and kept going when I might stop and save my training for a new day.
A lump formed in my throat. So many more of my loved ones would leave me.
“Don’t worry about that,” I assured her. “But I missed you tonight. Work on healing up. Get rest. Don’t make me sleep charm you.”
Angie huffed and shooed me away. “Go on home. Leo will handle me.”
I smiled. Emmerick’s father had only left Angeline’s side to go wrangle up the chickens into their coop before the wolves got to them.
“Oh, he’ll handle you alright. Gently, and with no hip thrusting,” I teased.
Angeline let out a belt of laughter.
Leo came stumbling to the door of the bedroom, mistaking her fit for one of pain. His level of devotion was precisely what my foolish heart longed for.