“What happened last time?” I ask with a sly smile, my tone practically begging.
“Teddy’s being a baby,” she says to me, then turns back to Therion. “It wasn’t that bad. I had quite a bit of fun, actually.”
Therion rolls his eyes, exasperated, “The last time we drank together, Rubi picked wild mushrooms and told us they were safe to eat,” he explains. “Let’s just say she was wrong,” he narrows his eyes at her, obviously still holding a grudge.
“I wasn’t wrong, Teddy. Ilied—there’s a difference,” Rubi teases.
“Therion ran around Thornewood naked, pretending to be a duskprowler,” Kael chimes in, that smirk of his dimpling his cheek.
Seren gasps, clapping her hands over her mouth, “Oh I’m sorry,” she stammers. “That sounds... interesting,” she smooths down her skirts, trying to distract us from her flushed cheeks that have sprung to life. Therion notices her blush, and an almost imperceptible smile graces his lips.
“See? We had a good time,” Rubi shrugs nonchalantly. “Things can get dull around here—I like to shake them up.”
“Nothing is ever dull with you, Rubes,” Therion grumbles, but there’s no mistaking the fondness in his tone.
Laughter ripples around the fire, and for a moment, I forget the prophecy, the power, the pressure. For a moment, I’m just Elyssara. I’m just here... with them.
Laughter, liquor, and light conversation float around the fire while Rhyven prepares the elk.
I listen to stories about Kael as a young boy and all the mischief he and Therion got up to. He listens and laughs, entwining hisfingers with mine, unabashedly claiming me as his in front of his friends. His council. His kingdom.
I feel the tears welling in my eyes.Is this what it feels like to grow up with friends? To be part of something? To be chosen? To belong?I let myself believe—just for a breath—that this will last.I get lost in my thoughts of belonging, of family, of having someone know you as a child, and to still know you as an adult, and all the nostalgic stories and memories you’d build together. The idea is foreign to me, having hidden myself for as long as I can remember.
Rhyven interjects, “You know, Elyssara, His Highness used to tell stories of who’d be at his side when he one day ruled.” He looks at Kael, a conspirator’s grin spreading across his face. It was the first time I’d seen him look at Kael this way—like a friend rather than his prince.
“For fuck’s sake,” Kael cringes, which only makes me want to hear it more.
“For all the Stars in the sky, please tell me,” I plead eagerly.
“What was it, Therion?” Rhyven looks to Therion for confirmation.
Therion smirks slightly, “Something about a woman who felt more comfortable with a blade in her hand and blood marring her face, I believe.”
Kael groans, burying his head in his hands.
“That’s right,” Rhyven agree. “And something about a woman who wanted to fight at his side, not hide in his tower.”
Kael barks a laugh, no longer able to hide his embarrassment.
“Looks like he found her,” Rhyven says, raising the flask high in the air. “To Elyssara, the woman who does not hide.”
“To Elyssara!” The group bellow in unison. My eyes are locked on Kael’s, unable to look away from him.
“To Elyssara,” he says softly, and something loaded hangs in the air between us that feels too good to be true.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-EIGHT
ELYSSARA
We finda steady rhythm over the next five days—easy conversation, hunting, a meal beneath the rising moon, and a flask of liquor that burns all the way down to my belly.
The group falls into a natural dynamic—Therion and Rhyven lead, track and hunt, Jax provokes Merrik in ways that make him cringe and grumble in frustration, Daelen and Ronyn laugh and share inappropriate jokes, and Rubi makes Seren blush with wild stories of experimental herbs, pranks and tales of Therion and Kael as young boys.
It leaves Kael and I trailing at the back of the group, sharing stolen kisses, long embraces, and stories about who we’ve been before each other. We spend a lot of time in silence, simply enjoying the convergence of our world and the people in it.
The beauty of The Riverian Jungle is mirrored in the people around me—so full of color, life and magic. The contrast between this place is stark compared to the dying streets of Virellin, thick with rot and the reek of The Black Stream.
I feel as if fate has dragged me here, pulling me along with invisible strings, urging me to the next place, the next relic, the nextmoment. But now that I’m here, I feel like I’m choosing it—to stay, to live, to see this through, whatever the cost.
