Algernon reclined in his seat, fingers thoughtfully combing through his gray beard.“Let's just say every tale has its twists, and I'm rather keen to see yours.”
A shiver of apprehension crawled across Elara's skin, a silent warning she couldn't shake. It was unheard of, even reckless, to venture beyond the Sanct without her usual guard. Yet, here she was, tempted to place her trust in the old Druid against her better judgment. Fenlin's recent death and Avis's cryptic hints had left her with too many questions. And then there was Godfrey. Had he really sent a message from the Pit? Or had he escaped? She needed answers.
“I would be detected the moment I approached the barrier.”
A sly grin graced his features. “Indeed, you would,” he said, unfolding his hand to reveal a jasper ring. “But not while wearingthis.”
Chapter 10
If Elara ended up on the wrong side of this gamble, she'd have only herself to blame.
Her gaze swept over the line of workers before her, a slow-moving snake of weary bodies eager to find rest beyond the Sanct’s heavy gates.
And there, at the very end, stood the barrier.
The ward throbbed with energy, a massive curtain stretching skyward, almost grazing the fledgling stars. As the sun dipped lower, rich purples, fiery oranges, and molten golds played across its expanse, turning the barrier into a vibrant, living mural.
Elara allowed herself precisely one hour of panic after she stormed out of the archives, Algernon’s ring a cold weight in her clenched fist as she made her way to her room. She oscillated between caution and daring, measuring every risk against its potential reward, until she had caught her reflection in her small, cracked mirror.
The question that stared back at her had been simple.Whattypeofpersonam I?
A dutiful puppet pretending at rebellion, or someone willing to risk it all for a taste of freedom? She wanted to believe shewas more. That she wasn’t just a captive bowing to the whims of her captors. But the truth was… she hadn't dared to break free. Not really. Not when it mattered. Because Osin’s wards weren’t the only thing trapping her. Fear, doubt—they held her just as tightly. Elara had stared at the ring in her hand, wondering if she could really claim to be a prisoner if she wasn’t willing to take the risk.
She might not know exactly what awaited her, but she was certain of one thing: she had to make a choice. And if everything fell apart because of it? So be it.
What else was a prisoner supposed to do when handed a key? The real question wasn’t whether she would succeed. It was whether she could live with herself if she didn’t try.
The Autumnal Equinox—Mabon—was in full swing, and time was not on her side.
A cool breeze played through her unbound hair, mussing it into buoyant curls and carrying with it the spicy fragrance of the harvest. Her heart skipped a beat, and she tugged her hood lower over her face. The emerald and onyx robes she pilfered from the Druids’ laundry were snug, but with some pulling and adjusting, she managed to smooth them over her gown. Algernon had suggested she borrow robes from Avis, but something inside her hesitated. Deep down, she felt it was safer to keep Avis out of the loop. The idea of dragging someone she cared about into her mess...
Elara’s throat tightened. She was a walking storm—a curse.
Fenlin’s death was proof of that.
“Excuse me, miss, could you look at this for me? Just while we wait?” The hesitant voice came from behind Elara.
Turning, she saw one of Edgar's scullery maids, a young woman with anxious eyes, gently supporting her wrist. The way she held it, with her fingers gingerly wrapped and a wince with each subtle movement, hinted strongly at a sprain.
Curse it to the Void. She was wearing Greenheart robes.
This woman thought she was a healer.
“I’m so sorry.” Elara's voice wavered, and she cleared her throat. “I was given strict orders from the Arch Healer to... give my ether a break. I’ve overdone it today, and it isn’t safe for me to overexert myself.” Her heart pounded in her chest, the lie tasting bitter on her tongue. She remembered hearing a Druid mumble something similar months ago, but she had no idea if it was even true.
The woman’s hopeful expression crumbled, her shoulders slumping in disappointment. She glanced down, her fingers twisting the edge of her shawl, but she didn’t question Elara’s words.
“But make sure to elevate it, wrap it tightly, and take some willow bark for the pain and inflammation,” Elara advised, her voice steadying. “If you can, see a healer in town. Here.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a gold coin, the one she had brought just in case. “Take this.”
The woman looked at her strangely, her brow creasing in confusion. Elara pushed the coin into her good hand, feeling the roughness of the woman's calloused fingers, and turned quickly before she could figure out who she was. Gods, if she got caught this quickly, she would never live down the shame. She was lucky Edgar’s constant smothering had kept her identity somewhat vague, even here within the Sanct. And by some stroke of luck, his ravens were nowhere to be seen. Still, this brief respite hardly softened the sharp twist of dread knotted deep within her. She unwittingly nibbled at the skin around her nails and twirled her ring, trying to calm the nervous energy bubbling up inside her.
The ring felt like death on her skin. When she had slipped it onto her thumb after leaving the citadel, it seemed to wake to her touch, a living thing entangling its rot through her veins.How did anyone bear it? The moment she put it on, she wanted it off. But Algernon had insisted she wear it until she was well past the barrier.“My ring will cloak you, get you past the wards specifically set up to keep you in.”
Elara wasn’t surprised to hear Osin had set up extra safeguards to monitor her movements, but it still made her stomach churn. She glanced at the ring again, its dark metal seeming to pulse with a life of its own. Grimacing, she buried her hand within her robe’s pocket, her fingers brushing against Godfrey’s note. Soon she would be far from here and could rip it off, but for now, she needed to focus.
The closer she nudged to the portcullis, the clearer the guards came into view. They would know her. She was certain of that. But maybe the ring would shield her as Algernon had promised. If she kept her hood up and her face down, maybe she could?—
A booming, drunken laugh made her blood run cold. Lorien.
