Chapter 225 TEIGEN XLIX
“Go,” he commanded, his tone softer but leaving no room for argument. “Compose yourself. Tomorrow we announce the betrothal.”
She turned, her gown swirling around her, and fled the hall. Only when the great doors slammed shut behind her did the tears come, hot and unrelenting.
Pain clawed at her throat until she could barely breathe.
She did not know how far she had run before she felt the steady presence at her side. Ryker. He had followed as he always did, silent and watchful, one hand resting on the hilt of his sword.
When they reached the quiet of her chamber, he stepped in front of her, dark eyes filled with concern.“My lady,” he said softly, voice low enough that the walls would not betray them. “What happened?”
Elara collapsed into his arms, her composure shattering at last. “He’s given me to Sawyer,” she whispered through her tears. “My father would chain me to that viper, all for the sake of borders and treaties.”
Ryker’s arms tightened around her, strong and certain. For a moment the world felt steadier. He smelled of leather, steel, and the open road—of safety. “You are not a pawn,” he murmured fiercely. “Not while I still draw breath.”
She pulled back to search his face. His jaw was set, his gaze burning with something she had long noticed but never dared name. “Ryker…”
He took her hand, calloused fingers brushing her skin. “Say the word, Elara, and I will carry you from this place. We can ride beyond Sawyer’s reach, beyond the Empire’s grasp.”
Her heart surged with longing, yet fear warred inside her. “If we flee, my father will brand you a traitor. He would hunt us to the ends of the realm. I could not bear to see you fall by his sword.”
.
“Then I will stand and fight here,” Ryker said, voice steady. “I do not fear the risk. If Sawyer seeks to claim you, he will find my blade in his path.”
Elara shook her head, tears streaking her cheeks. “You cannot fight an empire, Ryker.”
“No,” he admitted, brushing a tear away with his thumb. “But I can fight for you.”
Silence settled between them, heavy with everything left unsaid. Elara’s breath trembled, her heart torn between duty and desire.
At last she whispered, “Stay with me tonight. Let me forget, just for a while.”
Ryker bowed his head, pressing his forehead to hers. “Always, my lady. Always.”
The next morning would bring trumpets and proclamations, banners unfurled, and her father’s will made known to all.
But that night, as rain pattered against the window, Elara clung to the one truth she could still claim: her heart belonged to Ryker. No decree or alliance could change that.
Yet even as she drifted into restless dreams, she knew the storm had only just begun.
That night in her chamber, Elara lay in Ryker’s arms. The storm outside had quieted, but thunder still raged within her. His embrace was steady and warm, grounding her trembling body. Their breaths mingled, hearts beating close. For the first time since her father’s decree, she felt truly alive, if only in defiance.
A sharp knock shattered the fragile peace. The steward’s muffled voice came through the door. “My lady, Lord Sawyer requests your presence at dawn. He has arrived to discuss the betrothal.”
Elara froze, blood turning to ice. Sawyer was already here. Her body stiffened against Ryker’s. When the footsteps faded, she whispered, “I cannot do it, Ryker. I cannot face him. I will not.”
His jaw tightened as he propped himself on one elbow. “Then don’t. You owe him nothing.”
“But my father—”
“Your father would see you caged,” Ryker cut in, voice fierce yet hushed. “I would see you free. Elara, we must leave. Tonight. Before dawn, before Sawyer can bind you with words or vows.”
Her breath shook, caught between terror and desperate hope. “To leave is to become a traitor.”
“To stay is to surrender.” His eyes burned into hers. “Come with me. I know the back roads. We can reach my village by tomorrow midday if we ride hard. There we’ll find shelter and allies. And beyond that… freedom.”
The chamber fell quiet. At last Elara nodded, tears shining in her eyes. “Yes. Take me away from here.”
The night was black when they slipped from the manor. Cloaked in shadow, they crept through the servants’ gate, Ryker’s hand never far from his sword while Elara clutched his fingers tightly, a small satchel of hastily packed clothes in her other hand. Two horses waited in the grove beyond the walls. They mounted quickly and rode into the darkness, hooves muffled on the damp earth.
They avoided the main roads, cutting through forests and narrow deer paths. Ryker led with quiet certainty. Elara’s heart pounded at every rustle in the underbrush, yet beside him the spark of freedom began to burn brighter.
By dawn exhaustion weighed on them both. In a secluded clearing they paused. Ryker dismounted first, then lifted Elara down with careful hands. “We cannot keep the horses—they will be recognized too easily. We must find another way.”
Fate seemed to answer when they soon came upon a farmer guiding his oxen and a cart piled high with hay and firewood. The man’s eyes widened at the sight of Ryker, but softened when Elara lowered her hood, revealing her face.
“Sir,” Ryker said, pressing a pouch of coins into the farmer’s palm, “we need passage west. Speak of this to no one.”
The farmer hesitated, then gave a wary nod. “Get in. Keep low.”
Hidden beneath the hay, pressed close in the dim, earthy scent of straw, Elara clung to Ryker’s hand. The wheels creaked, the oxen plodded on, and slowly the manor faded behind them. Every mile carried them closer to freedom—and deeper into danger.
Twice they passed patrols, the clink of armor and flicker of torches far too close for comfort. Each time Ryker’s steady grip kept her calm.
At last, as twilight painted the sky, the cart creaked to a halt. The farmer pulled back the hay. “This is as far as I go. Beyond this clearing lies the edge of the Duke’s lands.”
Elara and Ryker climbed down, brushing straw from their cloaks. Before them stretched open country, the forest thinning toward an untamed horizon. Behind them lay chains of duty. Ahead lay uncertainty but also the first taste of freedom.