Chapter 223 TEIGEN XLVII
“Elara!” The voice rang out from the edge of the clearing, deep and steady, slicing through the fog of her despair. Ryker stepped out from the shadowed path, his tall frame wrapped in worn leather armor that spoke of long miles on the road. The sword at his hip and the fierce violet fire in his eyes told a different story—the story of the man who loved her.
His dark hair was tousled from the hard ride, strands clinging to his brow, and his cloak still carried the dust of the journey they had shared from Lord Sawyer’s keep.
He stopped short at the sight of the stones hovering around her, one hand twitching instinctively toward his blade before he forced it still.“Goddess above, Elara… what is this? Are you hurt?”
She kept her eyes fixed on the ground, where a single pebble still trembled, caught between her will and the pull of the earth.“Hurt?” Her voice came out raw, edged with bitterness. “Not the way you mean, Ryker. My side is healed well enough Sawyer’s physicians saw to that, and the man himself hovered over me like I was made of glass. But here…” She pressed a trembling hand to her chest as fresh tears slipped down her cheeks.
“Here it’s broken. I rode all day thinking Father would be waiting. That after weeks away he might actually care enough to greet me. Instead the hall was empty. He’s shut away in his war chamber again, maps and strategies more important than his own daughter.”
Ryker moved closer, picking his way carefully through the orbiting stones with the easy grace of a man who had faced danger more times than he could count. A small rock grazed his shoulder. He brushed it away without slowing, his gaze never leaving her face.
“Elara, your magic… it’s feeding on this anger. You have to pull it back before the Duke’s guards come sniffing around. If they find you like this..”
“Let them see,” she snapped, lifting her head at last. Her eyes, stormy grayish blue shot through with flickering light, burned with raw defiance. “What does it matter anymore? Father will simply add it to the long list of my failings. ‘Elara the wild one. Elara the embarrassment.’ Lord Sawyer treated me like a precious jewel to be locked away, always whispering about alliances and futures. And now I return home only to find my own father couldn’t spare even a moment for me. I’m nothing to him, Ryker. Nothing.”
He crossed the last distance between them, undeterred as the stones spun faster in a chaotic whirl of gray and brown, humming with the force of her rising emotions.
Dropping to one knee in front of her, he reached out, hesitating only when a larger rock drifted close to his hand. He pushed it gently aside and cupped her face, his calloused fingers warm against her tear-streaked skin.
“You’re not nothing,” he said, voice low and fierce. “Not to me. Never to me. Sawyer is a fool, drunk on his own importance, thinking he can claim you like some prize at market. And your father…” His jaw tightened, a muscle ticking there. “He’s blind, buried so deep in his wars and schemes that he can’t see what’s right in front of him. But that doesn’t make you worthless, Elara. You’re the heart of this place. The fire that keeps these old stones warm.”
Elara leaned into his touch, her breath catching as the frantic orbit of the stones began to slow. “Then why does it feel like I’m completely alone?” she whispered. “You were there, Ryker. You saw how Sawyer looked at me, how he spoke of ‘securing’ me like I was just another contract to sign. His keep felt like a cage, and I told myself coming home would set me free. But Father… he didn’t even bother to stay long enough to see me.”
Ryker’s thumb brushed away another tear, his violet eyes softening even as they stayed locked on hers. “I saw everything,” he murmured. “Every sly glance he gave you, every honeyed word about alliances and futures. I had to grip my sword hilt until my knuckles ached just to keep from storming across that hall and dragging you out of there. But you’re here now. You’re home. And I’m not going anywhere.”
She shook her head, voice trembling. “Home? This manor feels just as cold as Sawyer’s keep. At least he pretended to want me, even if it was only for his own gain. Father doesn’t even pretend. I’m nothing more than a piece on his board, moved when it suits him.”
Ryker’s hand slid from her cheek to her shoulder, his grip firm yet gentle. “You’re no one’s piece,” he said, quiet ferocity threading through every word. “Not Sawyer’s. Not your father’s. You’re Elara of Nordhaven, with power running through your veins that could bring these walls crashing down if you willed it. I’ve watched you wield that power not just with stones, but with courage and heart. You stood tall against Sawyer’s pretty lies. You kept your chin high even when he pressed you. You’ll stand against this too.”
The stones drifted lower now, their wild spinning easing as her breathing steadied. She searched his face—the faint scar above his brow, the stubborn line of his jaw, the unwavering devotion burning in his eyes.
“You make it sound so simple,” she said, a bitter smile tugging at her lips. “But what if Father doesn’t believe me? He’s a powerful lord, always chasing stronger alliances. The last thing he’d want is to offend Lord Sawyer. What if he decides to trade me away for some border fort or a fleet of ships?”
Ryker’s expression darkened, his fingers tightening on her shoulder. “Let him try,” he growled. “I swore to protect you, Elara—not just as your guard, but as the man who loves you more than life itself. No lord, no duke, no army will take you from me. Sawyer can scheme until the stars fall, but if he so much as lays a hand on you, he’ll meet my blade first.”
Her heart stuttered at the raw promise in his voice, a flicker of warmth cutting through the ache in her chest. She reached up, curling her fingers around his wrist, anchoring herself to him. “You can’t fight a lord’s army, Ryker. Not alone.”