I paced around the room, restless. It's been three days since that night, since I started doubting everything. Since I last saw Elaine.
She's locked herself away in her chambers, or so the servants claimed. I suspected she was avoiding me, which was ironic, considering I was usually the one avoiding her. I'd spent those days hunting, training, doing anything to keep my mind from circling back to what happened.
That night was… strange. Losing control like that when she kissed me—it shouldn't have happened. It made me think we were bound by something deeper, something unnatural. The bond, maybe. Whatever it was, it was messing with my head. Another reason to break it as soon as possible.
I exhaled sharply and left the room. Enough overthinking.
The castle halls were quiet as I walked, my steps echoing against the cold stone. I turned down a corridor I'd never explored before—different from the rest, somehow older, heavier with silence. At the end stood a dark blue, wood-carved door. I hesitated, then knocked twice.
A pause. Then, faintly, "Come in."
I drew a slow breath to steady myself. Ever since that night, I became more fearful of her in a way I couldn't explain. If she could bend my heart so easily, then she was far more dangerous than I'd thought.
The door creaked open.
Her room was spacious and orderly, much like mine had been when I first arrived—but lighter somehow. The gray walls caught the sunlight, softening the space instead of swallowing it.
Then I saw her.
Elaine sat by the window, her silhouette framed against the forest beyond. My breath caught. Gone was her usual dark, seductive yet regal attire. She wore a light blue nightgown that draped elegantly over her form, lending her an uncharacteristic serenity. I paused momentarily, feeling uneasy about how this affected me.
She turned slightly, sunlight brushing her pale skin, making her look almost ethereal. I forced my breathing steady and moved closer. She turned back to the view, and I couldn't help feeling oddly disappointed.
"I thought you were Anna," she said softly.
I straightened and walked beside her, replying sarcastically. "Sorry I didn't bring tea."
She only hummed in response.
I glanced at her from the corner of my eye. No taunting remark, no cutting words—just silence from her. It was… disarming. I turned back to the view.
"I didn't know you appreciated nature," I remarked after a moment.
Then she smiled. Not her usual smirk—a real, genuine smile. For a heartbeat, I forgot how to breathe. I was stunned, captivated by it. I'd only seen that smile once before, and it was that night…
"Have we… met before all this?" The question slipped out before I could stop it.
She turned her gaze on me, cool and steady. "No. I never forget a face."
"Oh," I muttered, feeling foolish.
She returned her eyes to the view, and I found myself studying her profile instead—the way her expression shifted when something fascinated her.
"I've always liked birds," she said suddenly.
I quickly faced the window, pretending I hadn't been staring.
I scanned through the open field that led into the forests. I was never one who was really fascinated with nature. I stared at the birds chirp as they flew in the sky, realizing this was the first time she told me something about herself.
"Really? What's so special about them?" I asked. My tone was casual. I didn't even realize I had lowered my guard around her. Maybe because with her, I don't feel the need to put it up.
"They aren't confined or bound to a place," she said, a wistful smile touching her lips and I stopped breathing. "Free to roam, chirp away at the top of their voice for anyone to hear. Flying freely with no clear destination, and letting the wind decide that for them. It's beautiful."
I chuckled, regaining myself, "You speak as if you were in a prison."
Her gaze lowered. I widen my eyes in realization. This is the first time I found out something about her.
"You are in a prison," I said, baffled.
"Not exactly," she sighed, then looked up. "Life itself is a prison."
I furrowed my brows in confusion but she rose to her feet, not explaining further.
"Why are you here?" She asked, moving towards a cabinet.
I tried to ignore how the loose nightgown slipped over her shoulder. "You said I had a mission," I reminded her.
She paused, then poured herself a cup of wine. "Oh."
I tilted my head. "So…?"
She sighed, filling a cup with wine. I think she's slowly getting addicted to wine these days.
"Your next mission is Al'mera," she said finally. "Find me the Child of Light."
I froze. The fear I had discarded slowly seeping in, reminding me why I was here in the first place. "W-why?"
She turned to me, not noticing my sudden change in reaction—or just choosing to ignore it.
"You know the prophecy. It's coming sooner or later. I'd rather get it over with." Her tone calm, detached, as she drank her wine.
"It's just a child," I whispered—repeating what she told me two years ago.
She studied me, tilting her head slightly. "Is there perhaps, a reason you don't want to go?"
"Yes," I said, stepping forward. "Because I won't take part in murdering a child."
She approached slowly. "Need I remind you that you serve me? Disobedience will be punished through the bond."
Pain erupted in my chest as she finished, sharp and suffocating, as if invisible hands were crushing my heart. I fell to my knees, clutching my chest, gasping for air.
Elaine stood over me, tilting my chin up with a single finger. Her eyes met mine, cold and commanding. Mine met hers with hatred. Then for a fleeting second, I saw it. Pain. Deeper than mine. But it was gone, replaced by that same mask of indifference, making me doubt my sanity. She's the evil sorceress, and she invented pain.
She leaned closer, voice a whisper against my ear. "Would you rather I do it myself?"
My blood ran cold. She would kill Isha without hesitation. I couldn't let that happen.
"I'll do it," I choked out, despite the throbbing ache in my heart. The pain vanished instantly.
"Good." She smiled, cruel and satisfied, and turned back to her wine.
I straightened, still trembling, and left the room. When the door closed behind me, I leaned against it, drawing ragged breaths. The pain she'd inflicted lingered, but it wasn't what hurt most. It was the reminder that she could. I've been so used to her not treating me badly and hurting me like everyone else that I forgot that she actually could. It hurts more than it should.
Back in my quarters, I grabbed my hunting bag. Something wet landed on my hand. I frowned, glancing at the ceiling for leaks—until I felt the drop trace down my cheek.
I froze.
Touching my face, I stared at the moisture on my fingertips. Tears. Real tears.
Why? I never cried. Not when my parents used to come home drunk and vent their frustrations on me. Not when the chief decided I was enjoying my privileges a bit too much and had me locked me in that cold, dark room for days. Not ever.
So why now?
I sank onto the bed, the weight of it pressing down on me. Maybe it wasn't just the pain. Maybe it was her. She had never mistreated me or made my life miserable like I had expected in the beginning. Rather, she even treated me like a guest, which to be honest scared me shitless at first, but I gradually got used to it. She never treated me like the others. She had made me believe, for a moment, that she was capable of peace. Of gentleness.
And still, here I was—crying over the very person I should hate. Pathetic.