Chapter 25
ELARA’S POV
I glanced between Marcelline and Ronan before nodding faintly, then slipped out of his tent. As I walked away, their voices erupted—Marcelline’s dripping with fury, resentment, and a hint of sorrow, while Ronan’s carried pure detachment.
“We need to talk!” Marcelline’s shout echoed from inside. Right away, the guards posted outside Ronan’s tent scattered, like they sensed the storm brewing.
“About what?” Ronan shot back, his tone measured but simmering with restrained anger.
“Elara!” she screamed, even sharper.
“Don’t tell me you’re starting this again?”
As their argument escalated, growing too loud and painful to hear, I hurried off. My shoulders drooped while I wandered through the camp, my thoughts spinning wildly.
“You alright, miss?” A voice broke through my haze. I looked up to see a guard approaching, his forehead creased with concern.
“Yeah,” I said, forcing a nod and a weak smile. “I am, thanks for checking.”
“No worries.” He smiled back and continued on. I made my way to the field, settling in to wait for the final round.
“Where’d you disappear to?” Clara asked, twisting around.
“Nowhere special,” I shrugged, dropping into the seat beside her. “Mind if I…?” I nodded toward the snack bowl in her hand.
“Go for it.”
We lounged there, talking and nibbling. Minutes later, Ronan emerged. I scanned for Marcelline, but she was gone. Fingers crossed she wasn’t scheming something deadly again.
The hunting games wrapped up at last, with Ronan and his crew claiming victory, naturally. I tended to the handful of hurt players—thankfully, fewer wounds than I’d braced for. Plenty of tonic left over, so I told a young healer to haul it back to the infirmary.
“There,” I said, releasing Andy’s arm. “Ease up on it, or it could tear.” I cautioned.
“Thanks, Miss Elara,” he grinned. I watched him stand and head out. At last, that was everyone. I got up, collecting my supplies—it was time to return to the palace; night was falling fast. The others had already headed in, except me, stuck patching up the injured. As I rummaged for my things, footsteps caught me off guard. I spun to find Ronan there.
“Sorry if I spooked you.”
“Oh,” I half-smiled. “It’s fine.”
“How are you holding up?” He asked, claiming a seat near the tent’s entrance, arms crossed like he had business.
“I’m okay,” I answered, a touch detached. Marcelline nagged at me, and I knew she wouldn’t quit—now or ever.
“You sure?”
“Actually,” I set my bag on the table ahead, facing him with a scowl. “No, I’m not.”
He sighed, dragging a hand through his hair. “Figured.”
“Marcelline,” I started, thinning my lips. “She’s not going to back off.”
“She will this time,” he said, his voice stripped of any softness, like her name alone grated on him.
“What?” I blinked fast, struggling to catch on. “I don’t get it.”
“I ended our arrangement,” he went on, still cold, then exhaled, his face easing into something gentler. “Marcelline and I… it’s done.”
I tried to respond, but nothing came. Words jammed in my throat. I should’ve been thrilled, but instead…
“You positive that’s the best call?”
Abruptly, his head jerked my way, and I flinched at the sharpness. “Sorry…” I nibbled my lip. “It’s just, everything’s been so messy, and now…” I trailed off. “I don’t know what to do, Ronan. We started as rivals, and now… what even are we?” I waved vaguely. “And you’ve cut ties with Marcelline, who despises me. You haven’t even made us public yet…”
He stayed silent, just watching me blankly. The quiet dragged before he finally spoke.
“You’re spot on,” his low voice echoed. “But that doesn’t mean I’m clueless about my choices.”
I leaned on the table behind, arms folded. “So what are you getting at?”
“We’ll go slow, but make it real this time.”
A grin crept up instinctively. “So you’re asking me out?”
He laughed quietly. “Yes, Elara. I’m asking you to be my girlfriend…” He paused long, a slight frown forming. “Or if you want time to mull it over, just say so.”
Did I really need more time? We both felt the same—that was clear.
I stayed quiet, just stepping toward him. Once there, I drew him in, my arms around him as he rested his head on my chest. “I think yes works for me.”
He lifted his gaze, those amber eyes—usually so shielded—now sparking with the same awakening I felt.
Gradually, almost without realizing, we drew nearer. My heart thumped wildly, mirroring the rising pull of the mate bond.
His lips brushed mine—tentative at first, then sure and unexpectedly tender. My fingers wove instinctively into his thick, dark hair at his neck, tugging him closer.
The kiss grew deeper, a fierce, urgent possession that sent tremors through me. It was untamed, intense, addictive. Why had we waited so long?
Without thinking, I shifted nearer, settling until I straddled his lap, our bodies flush and firm. As skin touched skin, the mate bond flared, pulling a gasp from me. His hands gripped my waist, drawing me tighter, and an odd, deep peace washed over me. Maybe, just maybe, this was right. But like Clara said, nothing worth it came easy. This would be a chaotic, tangled journey for us both.