For a fleeting moment, I have the urge to tell her I killed someone, just to see how she’d react. I swallow the cheeky thought as she finishes and reseals the jar with a soft clink of glass.
She doesn’t rise immediately as I wrap the linen back around myself. Instead, she sits back on her heels and studies me.
“I like you,” she says at last, as if that decision has just solidified in her bones.
The words catch me off guard. My brows lift as I glance down at her in a silent question.
Why?
“You’re unsettling in the best way,” she offers, a smile curving her lips at the end. “It’s been dull here for a long time. Controlled. Predictable. But you…you’ve shaken things.”
I shrug and answer honestly, “I’m just trying to remember who I am.”
She nods as if that isn’t a surprise. “That’s why it’s interesting to watch. Everyone here plays their role so well, but it’s clear you don’t want to be handed one.”
My voice softens in return as my gaze drops to the floor. “I’m not surewhatI want.”
“Then don’t play by their rules,” she says simply, with a conviction and strength that lifts my eyes to hers. “Make your own.”
There’s a soft pause before she rises to her feet.
“Dinner won’t be for a little while still.” She tilts her head, mischief sharpening again. “Want to stir up a little more chaos before we eat?”
I stare at her, caught somewhere between confusion and intrigue.
A slow smile forms on my lips before I can stop it. “Alright. What kind of chaos are we talking about?”
Her pink lips split into a grin. “The harmless kind.Mostly. But I need to get you some nicer garments than what my brother’s staff found for you.”
She leaves with a wink, promising she’ll return with something comfortable and “marginally less hideous.”
I scan the room, letting my mind slowly recall each item before crossing to the bed in the opposite corner. For a moment, I simply breathe in and out as I sit on the edge of it, letting the quiet settle around me in comfort.
My mind drifts to the proclaimed kings and the war I was thrown into.
Azyric’s words come back to me, cold and sharp.Only one side will stand when it ends.
It sounded so certain. What I still can’t understand is if all of this is justified.
Did the humans truly strike first? Am I only hearing one side of history?
Even if everything Azyric said was true…is this brewing war truly the only way forward?
My gaze lifts to the high, vaulted ceiling above, and I wonder if anyone ever asks those questions before choosing violence.
The door creaks open, drawing my focus. Ilyria steps inside again, arms full of a pale green fabric.
“I found something that will flatter your dark hair and eyes,” she announces, setting it on a nearby chair.
My mind is still caught up in my confusion of thiswar as I nibble on my bottom lip before whispering, “Ilyria?”
From what I’ve seen of her, she’s honest and kind. I’m curious what her thoughts are, opposed to Azyric’s.
She pauses, half-turned, brows lifted. “Hmm?”
“Do you think this war is for the best?” I ask quietly. “Or do you think there is a path to peace?”
There’s a beat of silence, then she moves closer, her expression unreadable for a breath.
