Chapter 16
1373 Words
“I feel sorry for you, Sorenna. You know nothing.” Ciara finally spoke, her voice sharp after recovering from her shock.
The words cut deeper than I expected, and I swallowed hard, the weight of her stare sinking into me like cold stone.
“I know nothing?” I asked quietly, arching a brow not in anger, but in calm curiosity.
She didn’t answer. Instead, she stepped further into the room, brushing past me with the air of someone who didn’t care to explain herself. “Sit. I need to fix your hair.”
I turned and lowered myself onto the seat before the mirror, holding in the tightening of my chest. One of the maids stepped forward, placing a dark brush in Ciara’s hand, its edges laced with gold.
“I wonder why you despise me so much,” I burst out, my voice cracking under the weight of all I had held in. “I’ve done nothing to you. I’ve done nothing to anyone!”
Her silence felt like knives. And I couldn't take it anymore.
“Instead, I’ve been the one who has lost everything,” I continued, my voice trembling. “A mother. A father. Two young siblings. And now every bit of confidence I ever had is being stripped away piece by piece! You say I know nothing?” I laughed, but it was bitter, cracked. “You’re right. I don’t. Because I’m going mad inside these walls.”
I stood, unable to sit still with the rage and sorrow boiling out of me.
“Every single day, I feel a part of myself slipping away, and I can barely recognize who I am anymore. So don’t stand there and look at me like I’m clueless, Ciara. You have no idea what kind of pain I’ve endured… alone.”
The silence that followed was heavy.
Ciara didn’t speak for a moment. Her posture stiffened, and I could see the tension in her wide, unsure eyes.
“I have no words to say,” she murmured at last, her voice low, almost breaking. “Everyone carries a pain they don’t speak of.”
I watched her swallow hard and blink back what looked like the beginning of tears.
“Please sit…” she said so softly, it startled me. Her lips trembled faintly, though her pride held firm, refusing to let her completely unravel.
And for a moment… I wondered what pain she carried too. Had I cracked something beneath her walls?
I sat slowly back in front of the mirror, but my gaze lingered, fixed on her reflection.
She said nothing more, just turned her attention back to my hair, carefully brushing through the tangled strands.
Something loosened in my chest. A little light flickered. I hadn’t realized how much of the pain I’d buried and how deep it had lodged inside me. I just needed to say it, to scream it out.
I was broken. I knew that.
But the terrifying part… was that I no longer knew what I was doing anymore.
Ciara quietly arranged my hair in a delicate French twist. The moment I looked at my reflection, I almost didn’t recognize myself—elegant, poised… like a princess.
Like the princess I once was.
A familiar ache filled my chest, the weight of Varynthia pressing behind my ribs. There had been no word of my kingdom.
The thought of her name dying away, forgotten, was a pain I couldn’t begin to explain.
I rose slowly from the chair just as one of the maids unboxed a gown that shimmered like moonlight caught on glass. Silver, elegant, breathtaking.
It sparkled softly with enchantment, and even the scent of the fabric was alluring, like something meant to draw attention and command the room.
“I admire your magic… your skill in creating something this beautiful,” I said gently, turning my eyes to Ciara, though I expected nothing in return.
To my surprise, she responded. “I try my best,” she murmured, her sharp brown eyes catching mine for the briefest moment, long enough to make me pause, and then she blinked it away.
I slipped carefully into the dress. It clung and floated in all the right places. Ciara stepped behind me and adjusted the zipper with quiet precision.
“Thank you,” I said, softer this time.
She simply nodded, and I watched her with a quiet curiosity swirling inside me. What had changed? Why was there a softness now?
But I couldn’t trust her yet. Not enough to ask the questions filling my chest.
Her task complete, she turned swiftly toward the door, her usual cool grace returning as the maids followed behind her like shadows.
The room fell still.
I let out a long, heavy sigh and slowly sank onto the bed, my thoughts pacing faster than my heartbeat. What would tonight bring? What dangers could be waiting beneath the lights and music of the party?
I reached beneath the bed and pulled out the blade I had hidden earlier. My fingers curled tightly around the handle, steadying my nerves.
Without hesitation, I tucked it beneath the sleeve of my gown.
Just in case.
I sat in silence, lost in thought, letting my eyes wander through the tall, crystal-clear glass wall of the room. The view was breathtaking, like a painting in motion.
The sunlight faded slowly, washing the skies in a deep sapphire blue. Lights began to bloom across the city like tiny stars, warm and golden.
From this height, I could see the quiet streets of Sylvarra glowing beneath the twilight, stretching far and wide like a kingdom spun in light.
My hand pressed gently against the glass as I gazed at the distant mountains. Rivers shimmered under the fading sun, curving like silver threads across the earth.
It was peaceful… dangerously peaceful. The kind that lulled you into forgetting you weren’t safe.
And then I heard his voice.
Eryndor’s presence swept through the silence like a soft tide, pulling me back into the present. I turned.
He stood tall, dressed in a rich golden custom made for royalty. The fabric shimmered with subtle enchantments, catching the glow of the room.
His midnight-black hair was swept neatly back, but what stood out the most was the ethereal glint of his colorless silver-gray strands glowing faintly under the light, like starlight stitched into silk.
“Ready?” he asked, his voice warm, his smile softer than usual. He stepped closer, lowering his head and brushing a kiss across my forehead. The touch was light—but lingering, like he meant it to settle something inside me.
“You look breathtaking.”
“I’m ready,” I said quietly, my voice steady even though something fluttered in my chest.
He took my hand gently in his, and together, we walked out of the room.
The grand hall shimmered with golden luxury, every corner glowing with the enchantment of wealth and power.
Chandeliers floated like captured starlight above us, their lights casting a soft gleam across the high marble columns and delicate drapery that flowed like mist from the ceiling.
The floor beneath me glowed faintly, polished to a mirror shine, reflecting everything with eerie beauty.
I tried to take it all in…including Prince Zaryth and Charlyz, who had been staring at us…and especially at Eryndor’s hand on mine… But my gaze was stolen.
The tattooed princes stood like shadows of fire and smoke, unmissable.
And then I saw him.
Rhysand.
He wore all black, yet somehow stood out more than anyone else in the room. His attire was sharp, regal, and layered in quiet menace.
A small bird-shaped crest rested on his shoulder, fashioned from silver and black feathers, subtle yet symbolic, like everything about him.
His dark hair was softly curled, short and neat, a quiet contrast to the wild storm in his presence.
He looked both devastating and unreachable. Beautiful, in a way that made my lungs tighten.
And he wasn’t smiling.
His golden eyes scanned the hall like they owned it until they found mine.
I froze.
It was as though the air left the room. My breath caught in my chest, and I couldn’t look away.
- Writer
