Elora sat on the edge of the narrow bed, knees pulled up to her chest, arms wrapped tight around them like she could hold herself together that way.
The room was small and cold, the stone walls rough under her fingers when she brushed them. A single candle burned low on the little table, throwing weak light that flickered every time the wind found a crack. Iron bars on the window cut the moonlight into sharp lines across the floor. The mattress was thin and lumpy, the blanket scratchy and old. Her red riding dress was ruined, wrinkled from the long ride, stained with grass and mud from when she fell off the horse.
One sleeve hung loose, torn at the seam. She rubbed her wrists again, the red marks from the ropes still burning. Verra had loosened them before she left, but the ache stayed, a constant reminder that she was no longer free.
She stared at the floor, trying to breathe slow.
In and out.
In and out.
Her heart still raced from the meadow, from the guards dying, from the ride with her hands tied behind her back. The gag had tasted of dirt and fear. She could still feel the rope biting into her skin, the way her shoulders screamed from being pulled back too long.
'Kidnapped.'
The word felt strange in her head, like something from the secret books she used to read hiding under her mattress. Princesses stolen by dark strangers, carried off to distant castles. In those stories the stranger always turned out to be a hero in disguise. Here, the stranger was an elf with black hair. And he hadn't come to save her. He had come to use her.
She hugged her knees tighter. But the memories came anyway. They always did when she was alone.
The Denares estate was beautiful. Everyone who visited said so. White stone walls that caught the sun and glowed like pearls in the morning. Towers that reached high, touching the clouds on foggy days. Gardens that stretched out as far as she could see, filled with roses that bloomed even in the deepest winter because Alaric paid many mages to keep them alive.
She remembered running through those gardens when she was little, her black hair flying out behind her like a banner, the petals brushing her cheeks soft as whispers. The air always smelled sweet, like honey and earth mixed together. Servants bowed when she passed, calling her "little lady"which she always liked. It felt like she was a princess.
But even as a child, she felt the guards. Always close. Always watching.
"For your safety, sister," Darius would say, his big hand on her shoulder. Sometimes she liked those protective hands, sometimes she felt those hand were not hands, those were chains binding her. Not letting do as she pleases.
Safety. They used that word until it lost all meaning.
As she got older the gardens started to feel small. The walls higher. Alaric brought gifts from the capital, silk dresses that whispered when she walked, jewels that caught light and threw it back like tiny stars. "Only the best for our flower," he said, his smile sharp as glass.
But every gift came with rules.
Don't walk near the gates alone.
Don't speak to the stable boys.
Don't read those silly adventure stories, they fill your head with nonsense.
She hid the books anyway. Under the loose floorboard by her window. Knights in shining armor. Dragons slain with one brave strike. Princesses who climbed down towers with bedsheets and found love on the other side of the world. She read them by candlelight, heart pounding. 'One day,' she would think, pressing a dried rose between the pages. 'One day someone will come for me.'
The first time when she really understood the cage around her, she was fifteen.
She was in the rose garden wearing a new blue dress that swished around her ankles. A gardener boy was trimming bushes by the fountain. Tall, skin browned from the sun, hair the color of wheat. He looked up when she passed and smiled. Just a smile. Warm. Real. Her stomach flipped like butterflies. She smiled back, cheeks hot.
That night at dinner she asked, casual as she could, "Where is the new gardener boy? The one with freckles?"
Alaric didn't look up from his papers. "He left. Maybe found better work elsewhere."
Darius grinned, mouth full of meat. "Yeah. Far away."
She saw the blood on Darius's boots later. Dark red spots he hadn't cleaned. She never asked again. She knew what Darius meant with 'far away'.
That night she cried until her pillow was wet.
After that, any boy who looked at her too long disappeared. Maids who let her read forbidden books got sent away. Sometimes she heard screams late at night from the east wing. She told herself it was just the wind.
"It's for your own good, little flower," Alaric would say, stroking her hair. "The world is full of animals. We will keep you safe."
She knew what safe meant for them. Clean. Pure. Their perfect doll.
She learned to smile and nod at their words. To hide every thought. But the books kept her alive inside. She pressed more flowers between pages and whispered to them at night, 'One day someone will come. Someone who sees me. Someone who also values freedom just as me.'
And now someone has come.
Only he wasn't a knight. He was an elf. And he hadn't come to grant her freedom. He had come to trade her.
The door opened.
Elora's whole body jerked. She pressed harder against the wall, heart kicking in her chest. Ready for rough hands, for shouting, for pain.
But it was only him. Eon, the elf boy who captured her.
He stepped in quiet, closed the door soft behind him. No guards. No chains clinking. Just him, tall and calm, his black hair neat, eyes clear. Simple clothes on him, a little dirt on the sleeves from the ride, but he carried himself straight. Almost noble.
Elora hugged her knees tighter. 'What does he want now?'
He stopped a few steps away. Didn't come closer. His face was calm, no anger.
"You're thirsty again," he said. Not a question.
She opened her mouth to lie, to say no, but her throat was sand. She pressed her lips together instead.
Eon didn't wait. He lifted one hand, palm open. The air above it shimmered a little, like heat over summer road. Tiny drops of water appeared from nothing, gathering, growing, until a perfect sphere of clear water floated there. Cold. Sparkling.
He made a clay glass and poured the water in to that.
Elora's mouth fell open a little.
He stepped forward slow, held it out. "I'm not going to hurt you. Drink."
Her hands shook as she took the glass. She drank slow at first, then faster. It soothed her throat instantly, cleared the dust in her head. It was the cleanest and tastiest water she had ever drank.
When it was gone, she looked up. "Why? Why are you being kind?"
Eon sat on the only chair, a few steps away. Not crowding her. Just sitting.
"Because you're not my enemy," he said as if it was obvious.
She laughed, short and bitter. "You kidnapped me."
"Yes," no shame in his voice. "But not to hurt you. To trade you for someone else."
The word hit her stomach like a stone. Trade. Like cattle. ' what is this crazy guy saying?!'
She lifted her chin, trying to sound strong. "My brothers will come for me. They'll burn this place down. They'll kill every one of you."
Eon nodded once. "I'm counting on it."
She blinked. "What?"
He leaned forward a little, elbows on his knees. "Your brothers took someone I care about. Countess Teressa. They dragged her away from this house, her own house. Now I want them to return her before they do something terrible to her. So, I'm getting her back. I plan to trade her with you."
Elora's mouth went dry again, even after the water. She knew that name. Darius talked about Teressa sometimes, his eyes were strange and hungry when he talked about her. Alaric smiled when the name came up, like a cat with cream. She had always thought it was just business. Money. Land.
But the way Eon said it... do something terrible to her... it sounded different. Dirty. Wrong.
She swallowed. "They... they wouldn't..."
"I suspected you didn't know. From your perspective your brothers were pure and innocent. But you should know the true nature of them. How perverted and fucked up they are."
"You're lying to me. They are not like that people. Sure they are protective of me, and they might have done something crazy all these years, but all of those were for protecting me. They wouldn't rape of torture anybody for no reason." Elora protested at Eon's claim.
Eon's eyes didn't leave her face. "They already did. So many times. Just because weren't aware of those facts, doesn't make thoe disappear."
The room felt smaller suddenly. The air was heavier now. Elora looked down at her hands, the red marks on her wrists. Her mind flashed about the gardener boy, The maids, The screams she sometimes heard late at night from the east wing and pretended were just wind.
'Was those screams at night were the girls, this elf is talking about. Can my brothers really do something like the things he is saying.' Elora's mind was now confused. She didn't know what was right and what was wrong now. Her entire world changed with just hearing this.
She looked up. Eon was still watching, but not smiling. Not angry. Just waiting for her next response.
The candle flickered sa time goes by. Shadows moved on his face, making him look older, tired, but strong.
She hugged the empty cup tighter.
'He made water from nothing. He gave me a bed. He didn't even touch me.'
Her brothers never let anyone touch her. But they touched everyone else?
A strange feeling crawled in her chest. Not fear anymore. Something warmer. Scarier.
'He's not the monster,' she thought. 'They are.'
She didn't say it out loud. Not yet.
But the thought stayed in her mind.
Author Note: Please leave a good rating, if you like this chapter. It helps me staying motivated for releasing the next chapter early.
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