I shoot him a sidelong glance but can’t suppress my own small smile. And maybe, just maybe, I imagine that stubborn, contagious thing called hope taking root in him too.
The Palace looms ahead, its spires gilded by the soft hues of sunrise. The guards at the gate straighten as Kaelzar and I approach on foot, leading our horse. Their expressions flicker between recognition and unease as they let us pass.
We walk in silence through the castle’s sprawling corridors. The familiar stone walls should bring comfort, but instead, they only remind me of how much has changed.
My thoughts drift to Ryker, and guilt flashes instinctively. But it flickers too fast, more habit than feeling.
I had loved him. Or I thought I did. I was supposed to work hard to make him forgive me, to believe me, to marry me. That had been my purpose.
But in the last few days, I have barely thought of him at all.
That realization should hurt. It should make me feel unmoored, lost. Instead, it just feels… quiet.
Kaelzar adjusts his stride, letting the space between us widen. He reads the thoughts on my face as if I was an open book. He always notices. And I’m unnerved by the fact that his awareness feels more certain than the love I used to swear by.
When we reach my rooms, I notice the absence of guards outside my door. Does Ryker finally trust me enough not to decay someone by accident? I push open the heavy wooden doors.
The receiving room is dim, the curtains drawn tightly against themorning light, casting the space in muted grays and soft shadows.
Just as I expect, Eva is slumped in one of the overstuffed chairs, her head propped against a fluffy pillow.
Her brown hair, usually styled with care, spills around her face in a wild, unruly mess. The silver ringlet is the only jewelry adorning her curls. Her lips part slightly as she sleeps, her chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm.
She’s the kind of friend who would search every corner of the city if I went missing, only to settle stubbornly in my rooms for hours instead of returning to her own. The type who stood on the balcony during The Rising of the Champions ceremony, her voice cutting through the quiet as she declared,You’ve got itwhile a temple full of nobility wished for my death.
The razor-sharp memory slices through me. My chest tightens, fear to let her down constricting my lungs. Before the sensation can settle, a steadying warmth presses against the small of my back.
Kaelzar’s hand. His touch is light, almost absentminded, but it radiates reassurance. I let myself breathe.
“This one is drooling on your pillows,” Kaelzar mutters, his tone low. He gestures with his chin toward the couch, where Peonica sprawls beneath a thin blanket. “You two have this in common. Are you sure you’re not related?” He delivers it with a dry amusement, but something lingers beneath it, almost like curiosity. Or… longing.
He must miss his friends, I realize, making myself a silent vow to help him get them back no matter what.
I roll my eyes, the corner of my mouth twitching despite myself. I stomp toward the couch, where Peonica lies draped over the armrest, one arm dangling off the side as if she’s been dropped there like a sack of grain. The rest of her hidden beneath the cover she must have taken from my bed.
The sight of her in such an unceremonious position brings a swell of warmth to my chest. It’s a surprise to find her here, though I don’t know why I wasn’t expecting the girl who attaches herself to me like a fifth limb any chance she gets.
But seeing her here makes something settle inside me, as if thepieces of my life, the ones that truly matter, are finally together in one place.
I’m mid-step, reaching out to shove Peonica’s feet off the couch, when sudden movement from my left catches me entirely off guard.
“Ray!” Eva shrieks, launching herself across the room.
Before I can react, she slams into me with the force of a charging boar. Arms of iron wrap around me, locking me in place.
The impact sends us both toppling onto Peonica, whose half-asleep groan turns into a startled yelp as we collapse on top of her.
“What is—” Peonica sputters, jerking upright.
Her eyes land on me, and for a split second, all the humor drains from her face. She searches my expression, checking, assessing, before her shoulders drop in relief.
Eva squeezes me even tighter. “You’re safe! You’re alive! I thought—” Her voice cracks, just for a moment, before she barrels on, smothering me in warmth.
“I’d be more alive if I weren’t being crushed,” I wheeze.
Peonica, still pinned awkwardly beneath us, glares up with bleary eyes. “Eva, I swear, if you’ve bruised my spleen—” She pauses, sniffs theatrically. “And Ray, is that horse I smell on you?”
Kaelzar’s low chuckle drifts from the doorway, where he leans casually against the frame, arms crossed. “I had to ride with the smell all night.”
