“Chancellor Vellon,” Osin said smoothly, offering a smile, “allow me to formally present our Hallowed.”
The old man dipped his head, the movement barely more than a formality, his pale, hawk-like eyes settling on her.
Elara did not flinch beneath his gaze. Up close, she recognized him. He was a member of the High Council—the very one who had hidden behind the table.
“Lord Sovereign, you honor us with such a distinguished guest,” Vellon murmured, his tone thick with practiced civility. “Tell me, my dear, does the evening meet the expectations of one so... exalted?”
The word "exalted" slid from his lips, laden with such thinly veiled disdain that Elara’s fingers twitched, her instinct to roll her eyes barely restrained.Exalted, indeed.As if the gown Osin had chosen for her didn’t already make her feel like a mockery. White, blindingly so, with edges dripping in gold, draping her in all the wrong ways. It was so sheer, so absurdly delicate, that she might as well have been standing there in nothing at all.
When she’d first entered the hall, her arm entwined with Osin’s, every gaze had snapped to her. Her gown shimmered beneath the chandeliers, its folds catching the light and scattering faint gold across the room like fleeting blessings. Was that his aim—to parade her like a porcelain doll, drenched in perfume thick enough to smother anyone who drew too near?
Each step felt like floating, the hem barely whispering over marble, yet she had never felt more trapped—bound to an image made for others, not herself. Admired, displayed, and utterly unseen.
And yet, beneath the layers of silk and perfume, Elara's thoughts drifted to forests and rivers, to mud beneath her feet and rain in her hair.
Osin’s grip on her arm tightened ever so slightly.
“It’s lovely,” she managed, forcing a smile. “A truly... grand affair.”
Vellon’s smile broadened. He inclined his head once more, a gesture indulgent, and almost patronizing. “I imagine such a grand spectacle must be quite the stimulation for you, Hallowed. After all, it must be some time since you have witnessed anything so fine. A welcome change, no doubt, from your present circumstances.” His gaze lingered upon her for aheartbeat longer, the faint smile still playing at his lips, before he turned his attention back to Osin.
Elara’s pulse raced, heat creeping through her despite every effort to stay composed.Bastard. Evil, smug bastard.He knew—knew exactly what they were doing to her, what her "present circumstances" really meant. And he didn’t care. He was a chancellor, for gods' sake, wasn’t there supposed to be some shred of decency in that? Some sense of moral justice?
Her fingers twitched at her sides, itching to lash out, to tear that arrogant expression from his face, but she clenched them into the fabric of her gown, willing herself to remain still.Breathe. She forced a tight, brittle smile.
After what felt like hours, Osin finally ended his conversation with the Chancellor, whose endless droning about titles and achievements had long since turned to white noise for Elara. So, when Osin led her back through the crowd, she almost welcomed it—even with his hand on her back as a constant pressure.
They moved toward the high table, the towering stone edifice looming over the hall. From this vantage point, Elara finally took in the full scope of the room—and the sheer number of armored guards stationed everywhere. At least a dozen stood near the dais alone, their hands resting on their swords, while another twenty or so lined the perimeter. Even more—maybe ten—were positioned at strategic intervals around the columns, half-hidden in the shadows, yet their presence was unmistakable.
It was excessive. Even for Osin, who was never one to take chances. But this felt like overkill. Her eyes flitted across the room, catching the hushed exchanges between nobles, their heads bent close, military leaders murmuring in tight circles, courtiers fidgeting with their fans, and high-ranking Druids watching everything with unnerving calm.
Elara couldn’t shake the feeling settling like a stone in her stomach.Yes, this was a gathering of power—nobles, generals, Druids, all in one place. Of course, security would be tight. But this? This felt like more than just protection; it felt like preparation.
Elara's skin tingled, a prickling awareness creeping through her like a brush of fingers across her neck. Slowly, almost unwillingly, she turned, her eyes sweeping across the hall, her gaze drawn to him as if pulled by some invisible thread.
There, at the edge of the hall, standing just within the shadows, was the Hunter.
The sight of him stole the air from her lungs, and for a heartbeat, the murmur of the crowd faded to a distant hum. It was only then—when she focused—that she felt it: a whisper-thin pulse, a ghost of a beat that wasn’t hers but somehow mirrored her own.
He stood tall, unflinchingly so, but there was something dangerous in the way his gaze lingered on her. He wasn’t hiding behind a mask this time. Just him, in gleaming armor that seemed to swallow the light, all hard edges, and lethal grace. But his eyes—they were the same. Dark, unrelenting, like he was dissecting her every breath. And she couldn’t look away.
“Why did you summon me?”
Elara shivered. She couldn’t help it—her eyes drifted over the hard lines of his face, searching for... something. Anything. A flicker of recognition, maybe. Or warmth that she knew wouldn’t be there.
What did he feel when he looked at her? Hatred? Duty? Something else?
She swallowed, the tension pulling tighter. He hadn’t always been this—this hunter in the king’s service. No, he had once been a lordling, a man of status, his family one of the most powerful in the realm. Until the day his brother had tried to kill her.Until the day they’d lost it all. Stripped of their titles, their land, their legacy. What had happened to them after that? What had happened tohim? She’d never let herself wonder before.
Elara ripped her gaze away, her cheeks burning as shame knotted in her stomach.What is wrong with me?So he hadn’t left her to freeze on the cold cell floor—big deal.That didn’t make him a good person. It didn’t mean he deserved anything more from her than animosity. And now, here she was, her mind spiraling with thoughts about him, clinging to the smallest scraps of kindness like they meant something. Like they mattered.
But he wasn’t kind. And the dream...
That's all it was, she reminded herself,not a real interaction between them.
Gods, shewaslosing it.
“Look pretty now,” Osin murmured, his voice a velvet whisper that snapped her out of her reverie. “All eyes will be on you.” Without so much as a glance in her direction, he turned to face the court, lifting his crystal glass with an ease that commanded the room. At once, a hush fell over the assembled guests.
