FORTY-NINE
Eirabella
The Queen’stemple is silent, holding a stillness so profound it feels as though time has paused. I sit alone in the middle pew, welcoming the hardness of the wooden bench under me, unmoving, while the air around me is heavy, charged with a sense of something sacred, something eternal. The walls seem to be holding their breath, waiting with me.
Tomorrow is the final trial.
I should be afraid but fear is not what fills my chest. What I feel is something far more powerful—a quiet resolve, a promise I’ve made to the people who are counting on me. To Rylan, who dared to believe in me when it seemed like even the gods had other plans. And to Doran, whose own dream was cut short because of me, and whom I will carry with me when I take those steps into the trial.
As shadows shift and lengthen, my mind drifts to Janus, to the village and friends I left behind. Their faces flickerlike benevolent ghosts, and a pang of longing tugs at my heart for the simpler life I once had. A life I imagine returning to, but hope I never will. How different that feels now. Five months ago, I couldn’t have imagined feeling this way, yet here I am, unable to imagine leaving this new path, knowing what else awaits in the kingdom—knowing who else is here.
And then, as if conjured by my thoughts, my mind shifts to Rylan. What comes after the trial for us, even the gods cannot predict. Our time together has always felt borrowed, his path so clearly mapped out before he was born—Celador’s prince, bound by duty to a marriage of alliance, not of love. The closer I get to the trial, the more each night with him feels like an unwinding of something fragile and fleeting. No matter how tightly I hold him in those precious, unguarded moments between dusk and dawn, I know the day will come when he’ll have to let me go. And as he’s proclaimed, there may never be another man for me, I know I won’t be able to say the same for him with other women.
I wince, imagining the day when I’ll see him in the halls of Aetherhold, and remembering what we once were to one another.
What the last few months have shown me, though, is that I can no longer live a life just for myself. There are people who would give everything to have the chance I do, who are willing to sacrifice it all for king and kingdom. Doran’s face flashes before my eyes. His lopsided smile, his generous laugh, his clumsy kindness. The realm is darker without him. And my chest tightens at the thought of the pledge I made to him that night, that I will make them pay. Each and every single one of the members of the rebellion. And I keep my promises.
The temple remains quiet, a comforting silence that cradles my thoughts. I sense someone’s presence, and without opening my eyes, I know it’s Caelum. His boundless energy simmerslike a quiet flame. He lingers nearby, watching over me, but I’m not ready to speak. Not yet. After a long silence, I hear him sigh, his footsteps retreating, and I’m grateful he understands the need for solitude.
Time drifts in a blur of light and shadow, the faint rustling of candle flames the only sound. A softer presence appears at my side, and I open my eyes to see Alina sitting beside me, her face serene. She doesn’t speak, doesn’t pry. We sit in silence, her quiet warmth grounding me. After a while, she murmurs, “My mother always loved it here. I hope it’s bringing you peace, too.” I nod, unable to reply. I’m grateful for her, yet peace still feels distant, an elusive thing just beyond reach. Then just as gently as she came, she leaves.
Evening spreads its darkened tendrils across the day, and the light filtering through the stained glass windows shifts, casting a warm, golden glow over the pews, marking the slow, inevitable passage of time. The patterns shift, inch by inch, pulling me closer to my fate. Something about the falling of the night sky pulls my thoughts to darker places; I should be on the field or in the combat room for some last-minute preparation, but I find myself stuck in this temple, grappling with something deeper than just the fear of failing. I’m grappling with who I’ve become. With who I’ll be if I succeed.
The door opens again, and I hear footsteps, heavier this time, as familiar to me as the sound of my own heartbeat. “Caelum says you’ve been here for hours,” Rylan says softly as he approaches, the words rumbling in that way that usually manages to soothe me in moments of frustration. “You need some rest.”
“I can’t,” I reply, my voice barely above a whisper. “For some reason, this is where I need to be.”
He doesn’t argue. Instead, he sits beside me, close enough that I can feel the warmth of his body against mine. “Then thisis where I’ll be, too,” he says simply, and just like that, I’m not alone anymore.
Rylan takes my hand in his, his grip firm but gentle, and something loosens in my chest. He doesn’t need to say anything; his presence is enough. And if I’m honest with myself, he’s always been like this—a constant, a rock, the one person I could lean on when everything else felt uncertain. From the moment I’d realised that I was riding away from the only home I’ve ever known with a strange man who could barely grunt more than a word at a time, I had felt safe.
And though I’d never thought I’d need anyone this way, I realise now, as I look at him, that he’s become as essential to me as breath itself.
I glance over, studying his face in the flickering candlelight, the way his jaw sets in a quiet strength, his gaze steady and unwavering. And the truth that’s been lying dormant in my heart becomes undeniable. I love him. I love him with a depth that leaves me raw, vulnerable. And as I squeeze his hand, I hope he feels it, too.
In my mentor and lover’s presence, I find a sense of peace I hadn’t realised I was searching for.
As the hours pass, the tension inside me shifts.
As do my thoughts, back and forth between the past and the future, of failures and achievements, of lost friends, and new loves. Of letting go of past grudges to make room for new loathing.
Soon, the morning light seeps in slowly, casting a soft glow over the temple, illuminating the walls and stained glass in muted colours. The queen’s riddle echoes in my mind, slipping through my thoughts like a wafting mist, never really catching, until, suddenly, the answer comes to me, clear as dawn.
I rise suddenly, my pulse quickening with realisation, startling Rylan.
But before I can confirm my suspicions as to the riddle’s solution, the doors to the temple creak open once more, and Master Tavyn steps forward, his expression calm yet intense. He meets my gaze, the weight of the moment reflected in his steady eyes.
“Eirabella,” he says, his voice measured and grounding. “It’s time.”
I look to Rylan, his hand still clasped around mine, his gaze unwavering. He nods, and in that silent gesture, I feel his support, his belief in me.
With a steady breath, I stand.
The final trial awaits, and I am ready.
I have to be—for Doran, for everything and everyone I hold dear, and for the promises I’ve made to myself.
FIFTY
