CHAPTER 78
816 Words
The city was quieter than it should have been.
Even laughter in the streets carried an edge, brittle as glass, as if no one dared to forget how quickly joy could turn to screaming.
Elise walked among them with her shoulders hunched, her hood drawn low, her heart a weight she could not set down.
Sleep had become a stranger. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw fire. Heard voices.
Felt the cold hands of the girl who called her by another name in her dreams. It was not death that frightened her—it was the thought of becoming hollow, of waking one day with nothing left of herself.
Kai noticed. Of course he did. But he had grown quieter, more withdrawn, his words clipped, his gaze averted when hers lingered too long. Whatever tether they had managed to weave between them was fraying, strand by strand.
She felt it most in the silence. Silence that told her she was alone.
And Becky knew.
Behind closed doors, Becky watched her prey. She had always been patient—predators were. A net was not cast in haste but lowered carefully, until the bird trapped itself.
“She’s brittle,” Becky said, her smile glinting like glass. “One touch and she’ll shatter.”
Luka stood by the window, rain dripping from his cloak. “She despises me. This won’t work.”
“That’s the brilliance of it,” Becky replied smoothly, setting a small vial on the table between them. “Despising someone doesn’t mean you can’t mistake them. When the mind wants comfort badly enough, it will see what it wants.”
He didn’t reach for it right away. He stared at the vial as though it might crawl into his hand. “You’re making me her shadow.”
Becky’s smile widened. “And shadows are always there, aren’t they? Waiting for the light to fail.”
Luka closed his fist around the vial.
Elise told herself she wouldn’t go inside. She only wanted noise, a crowd, something loud enough to drown the sound of her own thoughts.
But when the lantern light spilled through the tavern’s warped shutters and the laughter pressed against her ears, she found herself pushing the door open.
The room was thick with smoke and voices. Tankards slammed against tables. Someone sang a song so off-key it was almost violent. She slipped into a corner table, folding her arms tight around herself.
The clamor should have comforted her. Instead, it only made her feel smaller.
She didn’t notice Luka until his shadow fell across the table.
“You look lost,” he said.
Her eyes flicked up, sharp, guarded. “What are you doing here?”
“Same as you. Forgetting.” He gestured lazily to the chair opposite. “Or trying to.”
“I didn’t ask you to join me.”
“You didn’t stop me either.” His smirk was faint, practiced, but there was something brittle beneath it.
Elise scowled, but she didn’t push him away. Not tonight.
He ordered two cups of ale. The first burned down her throat, bitter enough to chase away her words.
“You look worse than the fires left the square,” Luka said casually, as if he weren’t watching every flicker of her face.
“And you care?” she muttered.
“I don’t.” He tipped his own cup back, swallowed. “But I recognize that look. It’s the same one I wore when I thought nothing was left worth holding on to.”
She should have told him to go to hell. Instead, she found herself staring into her drink, something tight and painful catching in her chest.
When he poured the second, she didn’t notice the faint swirl as the clear liquid dissolved into amber.
“You think you know me,” she said finally, her words heavy.
“I know enough,” Luka said softly.
The second cup spread warmth too quickly, too thickly. The tavern seemed brighter, every lantern smeared into gold streaks. Voices dulled, laughter blending into a low hum. Elise pressed her fingers to her temple, trying to steady herself.
“You’re drunk,” Luka said, but not unkindly.
“I don’t… drink like this.”
“That’s your mistake. Sometimes drowning is easier than breathing.”
She gave a short, broken laugh. “You sound like him.”
“Who?”
Her throat tightened. She shook her head.
The lines of Luka’s face blurred as her vision swam. For a moment, it wasn’t him sitting there. It was Kai—the tilt of his head, the weight of his gaze, the curve of his hand resting on the table as if it belonged there.
Her heart stumbled in her chest.
She blinked hard. Luka’s mouth moved, but the voice in her ears wasn’t his anymore.
“Elise,” it said.
- Writer
