Chapter 53 The Echo of the claim
Elara stood over Pandora, her chest heaving as the adrenaline of her witch-fire began to drain away, leaving behind the agonizing reality of cracked ribs.
Before her knees could buckle, Ronan was there. He ignored the High Arbiter and the gasping crowd, catching her just as she began to topple.
"Doctors! Now!" he roared, his voice cracking the silence like a whip.
Across the sand, the Southern contingent finally broke their paralysis. Kira rushed into the pit with the palace physicians to converge on Pandora. The Princess was struggling to push herself up, her arms a mess of frostbite and lacerations where Elara’s ice had shattered. Pandora’s eyes flickered open, landing on Ronan as he cradled Elara with a tenderness that made the crowd murmur.
"I will never..." Pandora wheezed, her voice a wet rattle as Kira tried to steady her. "I will never be the maid... of a tainted wolf."
Ronan’s head snapped toward her. He shifted, lifting Elara into a bridal carry, his grip firm but careful of her injuries.
"You called for the duel yourself, Pandora. If the Princess of the South cannot keep her word," Ronan said, his voice carrying to the highest tiers of the arena, "then I doubt she possesses the honor required to rule any people justly. The duel was sanctioned. The stakes were set. You lost, ai you should own it."
Elara’s head rested against his shoulder. She reached up, her fingers trembling as she clutched her cracked silver mask. "I don't need a maid," she whispered to him. "That’s why I changed the terms. I just want to belong. If I’m still a guest after this, Ronan... I’m leaving."
Fenrir howled within Ronan's mind, a sound of such possessive ferocity it made Ronan’s own bones ache. "MINE. SHE STAYS. WE KILL ANY WHO DENY HER."
As he turned to carry her out, the mood in the stands shifted. The Council Elders, who had spent the morning sneering, were now leaning in.
"She held the Southern Flame to a standstill without a shift," one Elder whispered. "That is unheard of."
Ronan ignored them, his strides long and purposeful. But as they reached the arched exit, Elara’s hand slipped. The cracked silver mask fell away, clattering onto the stone. For a fleeting second, her side profile was illuminated.
High in the stands, Draven’s breath caught. "Elara," he breathed, the name leaving his lips like a curse.
Beside him, Cierce’s jaw locked. She watched Draven’s reaction... the way his entire body leaned toward the girl in the King’s arms, and a murderous jealousy flared.
"What?" Cierce hissed, her gaze following Ronan’s retreating back. She hadn't seen Elara’s face clearly, only the back of a bloodied head, but the name was enough. "You’re still obsessed with that ghost? Draven, look at me. I am your Luna. I am the one here."
"Oh shut up." Draven hissed.
But as far as the world knew, she was the Luna of Northwood now, and she intended to keep it that way.
\-
In the Royal Wing, the air was heavy with the scent of medicinal herbs. Elara lay propped up against silk pillows while Morrigan channeled energy into her battered frame. The palace doctor moved with efficient silence, binding the claw marks on her arm.
Ronan stood by the bed, his back to the room, holding Elara’s free hand with a rhythmic, obsessive intensity. The doctor eventually straightened and bowed.
"Your Highness, the wounds are knitting. From the pulse... her shift is imminent. It could happen at any time. However, the internal trauma will take time. She needs to rest."
Elara glanced at her arm. "Will I be fine before the Hunt?"
"No," Ronan said, finally turning around. "Whether you are healed or not, you are staying here. You will not join the Hunt."
Elara’s eyes snapped to his. "Why? I won! I proved I’m not a liability! Why are you still trying to cage me? Are you ashamed of me?"
Morrigan and the doctor took this as their cue to leave, bowing out with frantic haste.
Ronan crossed the room in three strides, leaning over her. He grabbed her shoulders firmly, but with a calculated gentleness. "I am not ashamed of you! I don't want you on that Ridge because I know Pandora. She is spiteful. She won't take this loss lying down, and in the chaos of the Hunt, accidents happen. I cannot protect you if you are miles away in the brush!"
"Well, you don't know me." Elara scoffed. "Your Highness, I demand the truth. Why are you so suffocating? Isn't this a bit much for an 'outcast' you rescued?"
Ronan’s teeth were bared, his eyes bleeding from gold into a terrifying, molten red. "Never call yourself that."
"Then answer me!" Elara shook her head. "Who am I to you? Why is everyone treating me like I'm important, when clearly, I'm not not? Give me an answer, or I am going to that Hunt whether you lock the doors or not."
Ronan’s control snapped. His eyes went fully red-gold as Fenrir surged to the surface. The voice that came out of him was a guttural, chilling vibration.
"YOU ARE MINE TO PROTECT!"
The command was so powerful Elara flinched. Ronan immediately recoiled as if he had been burned, the red receding. "Elara... I’m sorry. Fenrir... he didn't mean to scare you."
Elara nodded absentmindedly, though the weight of that "Mine" was still ringing in her ears. "I'm going to the Hunt, Ronan. For the first time, I earned something. I won't let you take it back."
Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through Elara’s temples. For a split second, she saw a blood-red moon and a pair of glowing eyes. Ronan felt the spike of her pain through the bond, but she pushed his hand away.
"I'm fine. I just... I need to clean up and rest."
Ronan hesitated, then sent for Liora and Faye. He cast a quick glance at Elara before turning to leave.
The moment the doors clicked shut, Elara turned to the maids with a deadpan expression. They were avoiding her eyes, their movements frantic.
"You two," Elara said. "You know why the King is acting like this. I’m tired of riddles. Who am I to him?"
Liora looked at Faye, her lip trembling. "My Lady... we aren't supposed to say. The King wanted to wait until you shifted. He didn't want to pressure you."
"Tell me," Elara commanded.
Inside her mind, Lyra’s spirit hummed with amusement. "Isn't it obvious, little spark?"
Faye whispered the words so softly they were almost lost. "You're his..."