The king's obsession

PAIN OF LOST

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

The fire burned low in the hearth, its glow barely reaching the corners of the quiet room. Mrs. Thomas sat unmoving, Emily’s shawl clutched to her chest as though it might bring her daughter back. The air smelled faintly of rain and candle wax — and grief.

Mr. Thomas stood by the window, staring into the darkness beyond the glass. “It’s been days,” he muttered. “Not a single word from the castle.”

“She’s alive,” Mrs. Thomas said softly, more to herself than to him. “I would feel it if she weren’t. A mother always knows.”

Sophia’s voice cut through the silence, sharp and bitter. “Alive, yes. But his. You think the king keeps her there because of pity?”

Her mother flinched as if struck. “Sophia, please—”

“No, Mother,” Sophia snapped. “You need to stop pretending she’s some innocent dove. She knew exactly what she was doing, smiling up at him like that. And now—”

The door creaked open before she could finish. Finn stood there, soaked through from the rain, exhaustion etched deep into his face.

“Finn!” Mrs. Thomas gasped, rushing forward. “You’ve seen her, haven’t you? Tell me she’s safe.”

He hesitated, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I saw her.”

The room went still. The fire crackled. Even Sophia didn’t breathe.

“She’s alive,” he said finally. “The king keeps her close — too close. I spoke with her.”

Mrs. Thomas’s hands trembled. “You spoke with her?”

Finn nodded slowly. “She was frightened… but she hid it well. The king was near. She begged me to leave before anyone saw.”

Sophia’s eyes narrowed. “And you listened? You left her?”

His jaw tightened. “What would you have had me do, Sophia? Fight the king’s guards with my bare hands? Drag her out and watch her die in front of me?”

“You could’ve tried,” she hissed.

“I did,” Finn said, voice rising for the first time. “I begged her to come. I told her we could run, but she—” He stopped, his throat tightening. “She said he’d find her no matter where she went.”

Mrs. Thomas’s sob broke the silence. She sank back into her chair, clutching Emily’s shawl. “My poor girl…”

Mr. Thomas finally turned from the window, his expression grim. “The king doesn’t let go of what he claims. If she defied him, he’d have destroyed us all. She was protecting you.”

Sophia’s laugh was low and bitter. “Protecting us? She’s living in the palace. Wearing silk, dining beside him. You call that protection?”

Finn spun toward her, anger flashing in his eyes. “You think that’s a choice? You think she wants any of it? You didn’t see her face when she looked at me.” His voice softened, breaking. “It was like she was already half gone.”

Sophia looked away, but not before the flicker of guilt crossed her features.

“She asked about you all,” Finn said quietly. “Her mother, her father… and you.”

Sophia’s head snapped up. “Me?”

He nodded. “She said to tell you… she misses you. And that she’s sorry.”

For a heartbeat, Sophia’s expression wavered — something raw and uncertain beneath all the resentment — but then she forced out a scoff. “Sorry doesn’t bring her home.”

Mrs. Thomas’s voice trembled. “We’ll find a way. We’ll bring her back. Somehow.”

Mr. Thomas sighed deeply. “We can’t fight the king. No one can. Even Theodore serves him without question.”

Finn’s gaze darkened at that name. “Theodore… he’s loyal, yes. But he’s also human. I saw doubt in his eyes when he looked at Emily.”

“You’ll get yourself killed, boy,” Mr. Thomas said.

“Then let me die trying,” Finn replied softly.

The words hung heavy in the room. Mrs. Thomas began to cry silently, and even Sophia said nothing this time.

Finn turned toward the door again, his hand trembling on the handle. “I promised her I’d come back for her. I don’t break promises.”

The rain lashed harder against the window as the door swung open, swallowing him into the storm.

Sophia stared after him, her heart a knot of jealousy and fear. “You’ll die for her,” she whispered under her breath, “and she’ll never even know.”

No one answered. The fire flickered weakly, casting long shadows across the walls — like ghosts of everything they’d already lost.