Chapter 222 TEIGEN XLVI
“But no matter, you will be with me soon enough, and you will be walking these halls again’’ he smiles in assurance, the weight of his words settling in my mind. I frown, what was this air of confidence? Was this some kind of warning?
My voice disappeared, what was I to respond to that? Ask what he means?
“What do you-’’
“- My Lord” Augustine rushes over, cutting me off and like a guardian sent from the goddess to save me stops me from exposing how terrified I was. She gazes my way with a trained warning look, one I knew all too well. She was trying to assess the air between The Lord and I to make sure I had not said or done something untoward or unbecoming of a lady.
Ever grateful for the intrusion I step back, keeping my eyes trained on the enemy.
“I must appreciate your kindness and generosity towards my lady, myself and her ladies-in-waiting’’ Augustine puts on her docile smile, cupping The Lord’s hand in hers. She continued to say such sweet things to him, stroking his ego, no doubt an attempt to soften the blows I had given him over the past weeks. I wanted to leave as soon as possible, my heart thrashed with unease.
“I will be on my way, My Lord” I cut through their sugar sweet conversation. I take a curtsy and turn to leave feeling his eyes follow.
….
The sound of the iron wheel crushing the cobblestone filled the silence in the carriage. No one exchanged words, I watched Winnie and Camilla send glances my way, probably waiting for Augustine to reprimand me so they could find out what I had done this time. I ignored them, my gaze wondering to the windows as I watched the greenery and little houses fly by as I pondered on my thoughts. Maybe I could confide in father about what Lord Sawyer did, surely he would believe his own daughter. He would prevent him from coming around and I would not have to see him again, the rumors would end and I would not have to fear being so close to him.
We had risen with the sun, early enough to start our journey and reach the dukedom before night fall, perfect just like I had planned it. I missed laying in my own bed, on my carpet, running through the garden everything and I had missed father as well even though he did not come to see me.
But my enthusiasm and hopes were all dashed when I did not see father among the welcome party with the maids and lining the front entrance. Ryker offers me his hand, helping me out of the carriage.
Why is father not here I bit my lower lip, maybe he is busy inside. I held back the emotions clawing at my throat, but surely he would have come to see me, after my accident.
The manor maids begin helping my ladies unload my belongings. I walk over to one of the guards assigned to my father, “My lady” he bows, his eyes trained away from my face.
“Where is my father?” my voice comes out small, too quiet, shaky even.
He glances at me once, sympathy crossing his eyes “The Grand Duke left for Rivenshore three days ago. He is to return tomorrow my lady”
A shudder goes through my chest. He was not even at home waiting for my return? Did he truly have no intention of welcoming me, did I mean so little?
My voice, barely a whisper comes through, breaking at the end “Okay”
I could feel the sympathetic stares on the back of my neck. Sadness and hurt tightened my chest as tears threatened to spill, brimming behind my eyes. I took a deep breath and followed them inside the manor. Quietly we get to the hallway and I stop, causing everyone to pause as well. Augustine orders my ladies to get my belongings set up in my chambers
“I will be in the garden” I declare, looking to Augustine. Her brows furrow with concern but I brush her off, I did not need to be consoled with lies that my father was not here for some important reason, as if everything was more important than me. I did not need anyone defending the Grand Duke, I just needed to be angry at my father for not showing up for me again. “Alone”
Before walking away I give Ryker a longing look before walking away. Ryker takes a bow and follows after me, understanding I needed him. But all of it was noticed by Augustine.
The sun hung low over the sprawling dukedom, its golden rays filtering through the oaks and casting patterns across the garden’s winding paths. Elara’s boots crunched against the gravel as she marched through rosebushes and lavender beds, her breath uneven, her side still tender from the wound that had kept her bedridden for weeks.
The air was heavy with the scent of blooming flowers and damp earth, a perfume that once soothed her restless spirit. But today, it offered no solace. Her heart throbbed with a pain far sharper than the stitched gash beneath her linen tunic—a pain born of absence, of neglect, of being forever second to her father’s ambitions.
She had pictured his stern face softening, perhaps even his arms opening to embrace her after weeks under Lord Sawyer’s suffocating care. Instead, the grand hall had been empty, save for the murmured apologies of servants and the distant echo of her father’s voice barking orders in his war chamber. Work. Always work. Maps and alliances, trade routes and border disputes—his true children, while Elara, his only flesh and blood, was left to gather dust like an unused relic.
Her throat tightened as she reached the heart of the garden, a secluded clearing encircled by towering yews and a single weathered stone bench. This was her sanctuary, the one place in the dukedom where she could breathe without the weight of titles or expectations.
She sank onto the bench, her hands trembling as they clutched the edge of her cloak. Tears welled, hot and unbidden, spilling down her cheeks as the familiar sting of abandonment clawed at her chest. “Why?” she whispered to the empty air, her voice breaking. “Why am I never enough?”
The ground beneath her shivered, a low tremor that mirrored the storm brewing within her. Pebbles scattered across the clearing began to rise, quivering in the air. Larger stones followed, fist-sized chunks of granite and smooth river rocks, hovering in a slow, chaotic orbit around her.
Elara’s magic—wild, forbidden, surged to her anguish. The stones spun faster, glinting in the light, forming a jagged halo that pulsed with her grief. A breeze stirred, carrying the hum of her power.