Chapter 39 Chapter 39

Chapter 39 Chapter 39


Morning light filtered through the stained glass windows of Nyxios's office, casting purple and blue patterns across the polished wooden floor. Aldergon Graniel shifted uncomfortably in his chair, his silver hair catching the colored light as he exchanged a worried glance with Eliad. The wood elf magistrate stood rigidly by the window, one hand resting on the knife at his belt amber, his eyes narrowed as he surveyed the canal below. They had arrived at first light, demanding an audience.

"This is taking too long," Aldergon murmured, adjusting his glasses. "Perhaps they've decided not to meet with us after all."

The door swung open without warning. Nyxios entered first, his purple eyes assessing the visitors with barely concealed irritation. Behind him walked Quasros, the elder Keltos.

"Grand Librarian. Magistrate." Quasros bowed with perfect formality, though his eyes remained sharp and assessing. "You honor House Keltos with your presence so early in the day."

"Where is she?" Aldergon demanded, forgoing pleasantries.

Nyxios settled behind his desk, gesturing for his father to take the chair beside him. "Patrina is breaking her fast. She had a rather... eventful evening." A small smile played at the corners of his mouth, one that made Eliad's fingers tighten on his knife hilt.

"We understand you have concerns regarding my son's companion," Quasros said, his tone gentle but firm. "Let me assure you that House Keltos has followed every custom and tradition in this matter."

Nyxios opened a drawer, withdrawing a leather folio embossed with the house seal. "We have registered the appropriate documents with the Limdrion Governance Council. Patrina Warden is officially recognized as a companion of House Keltos." He pushed the folio across the desk. "You're welcome to examine them."

Eliad stepped forward, his movements sharp with barely restrained anger. "These documents are nothing but what you dark elves use to justify your ownership of humans. This is nothing but legalized captivity."

"Such hypocrisy," Quasros remarked, his tone mild but his eyes cold. "The high elves conveniently forget their own companionship traditions when criticizing ours. Well, your Wood Elf isolation hardly qualifies you to judge the practices of more cosmopolitan societies."

"On the contrary," Quasros continued smoothly, "our initial claiming requires only the elf's intention and the physical placement of the collar. The second document, the Confirmation of Bond, will be filed once Patrina fully acknowledges her place here. She may always choose to reject my son. The collar's color change indicates this is progressing positively and naturally."

"Naturally?" Aldergon's voice rose slightly. "There is nothing natural about what you've done! Miss Warden is a brilliant scholar and was under my protection at the Sylvanae Archive. She was traveling with my blessing to continue her research in the Greenways when she was abducted. Everything that has happened here has been against her will!"

"She was abducted by dwarven merchants, not by our House," Nyxios corrected, his purple eyes sharpening. "Those dwarves intended to sell her to House Maelis. I saved her from drowning in our canals after she escaped them. Would you have preferred I let her die?"

"We would prefer you remove that collar and allow her to leave," Eliad stated flatly.

Quasros spread his hands in a placating gesture. "The companion bond is sacred in our culture. Breaking it prematurely would cause significant trauma to both parties."

"We demand to speak with her." Aldergon said, his scholarly demeanor giving way to unexpected firmness. "Alone."

Nyxios stiffened, a possessive shadow crossing his features. "That's not—"

"A reasonable request," Quasros interrupted, placing a restraining hand on his son's arm. "And one we shall grant, to demonstrate our good faith. Provided, of course, that you make no attempt to remove her from these premises."

Eliad inclined his head slightly. "You have my word as a magistrate of the Greenways Council."

Nyxios rose abruptly, disappearing through a side door without another word. The silence that followed was heavy with unspoken accusations.

"My son cares deeply for her," Quasros said quietly. "This is not merely about acquiring a human companion for status or bloodline enhancement. He loves her."

"Love doesn't require captivity," Aldergon replied.

The door opened. Patrina entered. She wore a simple day dress of lavender silk, her brown hair loose around her shoulders. It was the collar at her throat that drew all eyes—noticeably lighter than it had been at the ball, now a deep vibrant violet.

Eliad's expression darkened at the sight, while Aldergon stared in undisguised dismay. The bond was strengthening. Whatever had occurred after the ball had shifted something fundamental in Patrina's relationship with her captor.

"Patrina," Aldergon breathed, his voice catching.

"These gentlemen wish to speak with you alone," Nyxios told her, his fingers brushing possessively against her waist. He turned to the two male elves, "I assure you, she’s free to be perfectly honest about her treatment here."

Quasros rose smoothly. "Let’s wait in the garden, my son. Take as long as you need, gentlemen." He inclined his head toward the visitors.

The two dark elves departed, though Nyxios cast one last lingering look at Patrina before closing the door behind him.

The moment they were alone, Aldergon rushed to Patrina, grasping her arms gently. "Are you all right? Have they harmed you in any way? What about their mental magic? It’s quite tricky."

Patrina seemed startled by his intensity. She blushed, "I'm fine, Aldergon."

Relief flooded his features. Without warning, he pulled her into an embrace, his arms wrapping around her with unexpected strength. Patrina froze in surprise, then tentatively returned the gesture. Over her shoulder, Aldergon's eyes closed briefly, a complex emotion passing across his features.

"I thought we'd lost you," he murmured into her hair.

The collar at Patrina's throat darkened perceptibly.

Aldergon stepped back, coughing into his hand to cover his embarrassment. "Forgive me. That was unprofessional. We have been so worried. The Solaran High Council should have arranged a proper escort for you. I should have insisted upon it."

"This isn't your fault," Patrina assured him.

Eliad moved forward, dropping to one knee before Patrina in formal greeting. "Magistrate Eliad Tin'vine of the Greenways Forest Council. The Council sends its deepest regrets for what has happened to you on your journey to our lands."

He rose, his amber eyes meeting hers directly. "What has been done to you is a great injustice, Lady Patrina. We wish to make it right."

"Make it right?" Patrina echoed.

"We offer you freedom," Eliad stated simply. "The choice is yours: a passage to the Greenways to continue your research as originally planned, to return to the Sylvanae Archive with Grand Librarian Graniel, or transportation back to the Vyhelm Continent. Whatever you choose, you will have the protection of both the Greenways Council and the Solaran High Council."

Patrina's hand rose unconsciously to touch the collar at her throat.

"You're hesitating," Eliad observed, disappointment evident in his tone.

"I..." Patrina turned to Aldergon. "If I returned to D'Geanth, would I be welcome to continue my studies?"

Aldergon's response was measured, careful. "The Archive would welcome your scholarship. Though relations with Limdrion might become...complicated, depending on how your departure is perceived."

"Coward," Eliad muttered, glaring at the high elf. "Say plainly what you mean instead of hiding behind diplomatic niceties."

"I'm being pragmatic," Aldergon countered, though guilt shadowed his features. "Elven politics are complex, and hasty actions could have far-reaching consequences."

Confusion flickered across Patrina's face. She looked down at her hands, then back at the two elves standing before her. "I need more time," she said finally, the words seeming to surprise even herself. "To consider my options."

Eliad's expression darkened. "The longer you remain here, the stronger the collar's influence. Dark elf magic works slowly but inexorably. Every day you spend under this roof makes leaving more difficult."

"Nevertheless," Patrina said, her voice firmer now, "it's my decision to make."

Eliad's jaw tightened, but he nodded stiffly. "Very well. Three days. No more. We'll return for your answer then."

"That's fair," Aldergon agreed, relief evident in his tone. He took Patrina's hand, squeezing it gently. "Whatever you decide, know that you're not alone. We won't abandon you."

The two elves departed with a final nod, leaving Patrina alone in the suddenly quiet office.

The door opened moments later. Nyxios entered quickly, his eyes scanning her face with intense concern. The dark elf heir probably heard them exit the office. "Are you all right? What did they say to you?"

"They offered me passage home," Patrina said quietly. "Or to Solasa, or the Greenways."

Nyxios knelt before her chair, his cool hands taking hers. "And what did you tell them?"

"That I needed time."

His eyes dropped to her collar, noting its color had reverted to a darker shade. His fingers brushed against it gently. "You still have feelings for the high elf."

Patrina's eyes widened. "You knew?"

"Of course," Nyxios said softly. "I suspected. The way you spoke of your time at the Archive. And just now, your face when you saw him." A shadow of something: hurt, perhaps, or jealousy, crossed his features. "Do you love him?"

"I don't know," Patrina admitted. "I thought I did, before everything."

Nyxios softly withdrew his hand, his expression carefully controlled. "Your dinner will be served in your room tonight. You should rest. Think about what you truly want to do or if you truly want to stay with me."

"Nyxios—"

"We'll speak tomorrow," he interrupted, turning away. "I have matters to attend to."

He left the office without another word, his shoulders rigid with barely contained emotion. The door closed with deliberate gentleness that somehow hurt more than a slam would have. Patrina sank into a chair. The collar at her throat caught between two shades, neither fully dark nor fully light, reflecting the war within her heart.