CHAPTER 39 — The Glass and the Shadow —
The phantom heartbeat had faded by the second dawn, leaving Leona with nothing .
She went back to her duties as if the world hadn't shifted on its axis. She scrubbed the stone floors of the East Wing until her knuckles were raw, the rhythmic swish-thud of the brush the only thing keeping her thoughts from drifting back to the King's private chambers. She expected a summons. A look. A secret message. But Zephyrion was a ghost. He remained in his spire, a silent weight at the top of the castle, far too high and too important to spare a thought for a maid.
Not that she cared; all she wanted was to get away from here and back home, sure they tried to make her marry a man she never loved but she still misses them.
"You're staring at the floor-tiles again," Talia whispered.
Leona blinked, the soapy water blurring her vision. Talia was leaning on her broom, her expression etched with a mix of pity and annoyance. Beside her, Crystal was finishing a tight braid in Anna's hair, her fingers moving with restless energy.
"I'm just tired," Leona lied, wiping a stray hair from her forehead.
"You're a walking corpse," Talia snapped. "The kitchens are closed, the High Lords are in a drunken stupor, and we have a rare night of freedom. We are going to the Rusty Flagon."
"I don't think I should," Leona began, her heart jumping. "He... he sees everything. His ravens are always on the ledges."
"The King?" Crystal chimed in, stepping forward and grabbing Leona's hands. Her eyes were bright with mischief. "The King doesn't even know what color the tavern shutters are, Leona. He's up there brooding over blood and borders. We're just ghosts to him. Let's go be real people for one night. Please?"
Leona looked at her friends—Talia's protective scowl, Anna's quiet hope, and Crystal's infectious, pleading grin. She felt the heavy silence of the castle pressing in on her. She needed to drown out the memory of his teeth, and get away from scrubbing floors and walls
The Rusty Flagon was a riot of noise, smelling of sawdust and roasted meat. For an hour, the plan worked. Crystal was the life of the group, flirting with a blacksmith's apprentice and dragging a reluctant Anna onto the floor to dance. Even Leona started to relax, the bitter ale finally numbing the edges of her anxiety.
But the peace shattered when a man named Garen loomed over them.
"You're a quiet one," he sneered at Leona, his hand reaching for her shoulder.
"Back off," Talia snapped, but Garen was drunk and mean. He lunged, grabbing Leona's shoulder, his meaty fist raised to strike.
A blur of motion intercepted him. A stranger in a gray cloak stepped out of the shadows, twisting Garen's wrist until the bone snapped. When the stranger's hood fell back, Leona saw those metallic silver eyes. Chaos erupted. Crystal screamed as a second man lunged with a dagger, but a raven dived from the rafters, its talons tearing into the attacker's face.
"Out! Now!" the silver-eyed stranger roared.
He shoved them toward the door. They tumbled into the cold night air—Talia clutching a sobbing Anna, and Crystal looking back at the tavern with wide, terrified eyes. The stranger paused, his gaze dropping to the bandage on Leona's wrist.
"You're the one," he muttered. "The King's little miracle."
Then, the air grew heavy. A raven landed above them, its eyes glowing a rhythmic, pulsing crimson. The stranger hissed at the bird and vanished into the fog.
"Leona," Crystal whispered, her voice trembling as she stared at the glowing-eyed bird. "What... what was that? Why was that bird looking at you like it knew you?"