—
By the time Dante finally dismissed her, the sky had gone from pale to bruised. The sun was sliding toward the jagged line of the mountains, staining the snow in the courtyard a washed-out gold.
Elissa hadn't realized how late it had grown. Her hands still tingled faintly. Her head felt like someone had packed wool behind her eyes.
The corridors were warmer than the yard, but each step up to her room pressed the tiredness deeper into her bones. By the time she reached her door, every part of her felt heavy.
Martha answered her soft knock almost at once, as if she'd been hovering nearby.
"You look ready to topple," Martha said, taking one look at her face. "Did he work you that hard?"
Elissa managed a weak smile. "I started the day as a person," she said. "I've ended it as a wet match."
Martha clicked her tongue. "You'll feel worse tomorrow if you don't wash the day off you. Bath first. Then you can collapse like a tragic heroine."
Elissa didn't argue. The idea of warm water sounded like the only kind of magic she fully believed in.
While Martha muttered to herself and fetched water, Elissa peeled off her training clothes, each piece feeling heavier than it should have. She sank into the steaming tub with a low sigh. The heat lapped around her shoulders, seeping into sore muscles, chasing away the last of the yard's chill.
She closed her eyes, letting her head rest against the rim. The memory of sparks flickering at her fingertips drifted through her mind. Pathetic little things. But they had been hers, called on purpose, rooted in something other than fear.
Her grandmother's voice, from long ago and far away, echoed faintly:
If you don't reach for it, child, something else will.
She must have dozed, because Martha's soft knock on the screen made her start.
"Don't drown in there," Martha said. "I don't scrub corpses."
Elissa blinked, half underwater, and dragged herself back to wakefulness. "I'm getting out," she mumbled.
By the time she was dried and wrapped in a robe, her limbs felt twice as heavy. Martha tutted, toweling her hair with practiced hands, then steered her gently toward the bed.
"I'll wake you for dinner," Martha said. "Close your eyes for a bit. You've got shadows under them you didn't have yesterday."
Elissa didn't argue. The mattress accepted her like it had been waiting. She lay down on top of the blankets, meaning only to rest her eyes for a moment.
Sleep took her before she could even turn onto her side.
—
She woke to a hand on her shoulder and the soft glow of lamplight.
"Elissa," a familiar voice murmured. "Come on, lazy bones. Up."
She blinked blearily, disoriented. The room was dim, lit by a lamp on the table and the brighter golden slabs of light from the hallway. Martha stood on one side of the bed; on the other, Kestrel leaned over her, dark hair slipping forward over one shoulder.
"Kestrel?" Elissa croaked.
Kestrel smiled. "Were you planning to sleep straight through dinner and into next week?"
Elissa pushed herself up, rubbing at her eyes. "What time is it?"
"Late enough that the king is at the table," Kestrel said. "And Dante would scowl if you missed a meal after he wrung you out like that."
"I didn't mean to fall asleep," Elissa muttered. "I just…closed my eyes."
"As one does," Kestrel said. "Come on. Martha and I will help you look like you haven't been dead for three hours."
Between the two of them, they made quick work of it. Martha brushed out Elissa's damp hair and braided it simply down her back. Kestrel chose a soft, dark gown that didn't require a corset and fastened the clasps herself. They didn't bother with jewelry; Elissa was grateful.
"You don't have to come if you feel awful," Kestrel said quietly, once Martha turned to blow out the lamp. "No one will drag you."
Elissa hesitated. Her body ached for sleep. Her head was a dull, steady ache. But the thought of skipping dinner, of drawing more attention to herself, made her stomach tighten.
"I'm all right," she said. "Just tired. I'll eat a little."
Kestrel nodded, lips pressed in faint approval. "Good. Food helps. Blood would help more, but you're inconveniently alive."
Martha swatted her lightly with a folded towel. "Don't scare her."
"I'm not scared," Elissa said, which was not entirely true, but it felt good to say it.
Kestrel offered her arm with exaggerated formality. "Shall we, Princess?"
Elissa took it, and together they walked through the corridors toward the dining hall, Martha following at a respectful distance.
The bigger hall was used tonight. She knew that before they reached the doors. The murmur of voices, the clink of cutlery, the deeper stillness that came when more than just the younger royals were present.
When the doors opened, she saw why.
The king was at the head of the table. He was tall even sitting, gray threaded cleanly through his dark hair, his presence like another weight in the room. His eyes—bright, assessing—lifted briefly as Kestrel and Elissa entered, then dropped back to his plate with a small nod of acknowledgment.
Dante sat on his right, posture perfect, a quiet shadow. Alistair was on his left, expression unreadable as ever. Vane lounged further down, looking impossibly at ease despite the king's presence.
Conversation dipped for a moment as they stepped in, then resumed.
Kestrel guided Elissa to her seat, then took her own. Martha melted into the background with the other servants, but Elissa could feel the woman's gaze on her, making sure she didn't wobble.
Dinner was…quiet.
Cutlery against plates. The soft crackle of the hearth. Occasional clinks of glasses. Most of the talking came from Kestrel and Vane—small, sharp exchanges that were more habit than real conversation.
"They sent another letter," Kestrel was saying, stabbing a piece of roast with unnecessary force. "Asking again if we will 'demonstrate the bond' at the ball. As if it's a circus trick."
"Charge them for tickets," Vane said. "If they're going to stare, might as well profit."
Elissa picked at the food in front of her, trying not to fidget. Her appetite hadn't fully returned from sleep. Each bite tasted distant.
She risked a glance up the table.