Page 169 of Of Iron and Moonlight

Njall caught on at last. His expression hardened into the cold authority of the King’s Champion. He strode forward and seized them both by the arms, hauling them toward Kalaetzu with such force Elara almost believed the act herself.

Kalaetzu slipped into his role next. With a snarl sharp enough to chill blood, he snatched up a vial of oraivane and angled it toward Elara’s mouth as though to force it down her throat. A single drop slipped free, striking the corner of her mouth.

It tasted like bitter honey with an undertone of metallic sweetness. Like something floral turned sour. Kalaetzu’s eyes flared with alarm, but he did not break character.

The young guard hesitated. “Njall?” he ventured. “I didn’t know you were on isle today.”

“Mind your own matters, boy.”

The guard straightened at once, spine snapping upright. He offered a salute—awkward, earnest—then retreated, closing the door behind him.

Elara released the breath jammed painfully in her chest. Gavriel sagged where he stood beside her, a tremor running through him now that performance no longer held him upright. Njall let go of them both and flexed his hands once, as though casting off the traces of the role he had worn.

“It seems word of your betrayal hasn’t reached Celestine,” Gavriel murmured, still pale.

“At least not the lower ranks.” Njall gave a slight shake of his head.

Kalaetzu ignored the exchange. He had not looked away from her, and alarm was carved deep into his expression. “I am sorry.” He caught Elara’s arm, fingers unsteady. “I never intended to let any of it touch you.”

She blinked at the intensity in his face. Njall and Gavriel turned to her, suddenly aghast, as if waiting for some visible unraveling.

“A drop fell,” she admitted carefully. “But I feel… normal.”

“In every demonstration I’ve witnessed, the draught worked instantly,” Njall said. Something strained had entered his voice. His hand came to rest against her arm.

“It should have.” Kalaetzu studied her sharply. “You are certain?”

Elara took a moment to scan herself. No distortion. No surge. “Certain.”

Relief drained the tension from Kalaetzu’s shoulders. He covered his mouth briefly. “Thank Hanura. Withdrawal would have been…” He stopped, swallowed. “It appears humans without fae color in their eyes must carry such distant ancestry oraivane cannot reach it.”

Njall’s grip eased. “We must go. If the guard mentions seeing me to the wrong person…”

Every motion felt like sand sliding through a narrowing hourglass.

“Gavriel and I will take the west,” Elara said, forcing calm into her voice even as the faint aftertaste of oraivane lingered at the back of her tongue. “We have two hours before the ship departs. We meet here again in one. If anything goes wrong, return here.”

“Agreed,” Kalaetzu said softly, inclining his head.

Njall did not look pleased, but he nodded. He drew one sword and turned the hilt toward Gavriel. The gesture was quiet but weighty, as though he were handing over part of himself.

Gavriel accepted without comment.

They parted ways, Kalaetzu and Njall slipping into the corridor first.

Elara kept her palm near the hidden pocket at her side, acutely aware of the vials resting there, as she and Gavriel did their best to blend with the walls.

They entered the first cell block.

Straw pallets lay undisturbed. Chains hung slack from hooks in the walls.

Gavriel exhaled slowly. “Likely already sent east.”

Elara bit her lip. The quiet fear clawing at her since they had seen the army from the Niverna ridges finally broke through. “I hope Lorrain isn’t among them.”

“If she isn’t here,” Gavriel said, sadness softening his face, “we know where to go next. We will follow the army until we find her. However far it takes us.”

Elara answered with a grateful smile.