Chapter 48 MIXED EMOTIONS
(HAVEN)
It’s been two hours since I spoke with my mother.
I sit in my room trying to figure out everything I just heard. The walls feel closer than usual, like they’re leaning in, listening to the chaos in my head. I knew Eurolys was a bitch, but I never imagined he would be this. Never imagined he would be the reason my mother exists between worlds, neither alive nor truly gone.
I mean, hello?
He was her husband. The man she loved enough to burn bridges for. The man she chose over friends, over counsel, over safety. And this…this…is how he repaid her loyalty?
My hands curl into fists in my lap.
How do you betray someone on that level? How do you look into the eyes of the woman who trusts you with her life and decide she’s expendable? That her soul is a suitable substitute for your ambition?
I swallow hard, bile rising in my throat.
What hurts the most isn’t just the betrayal. No, it’s the intimacy of it. Eurolys didn’t hurt my mother as an enemy. He hurt her as someone who knew her fears, her strengths, her weaknesses. As someone who knew exactly where to strike to cause the most damage.
And somehow, history remembered her as the monster.
My chest tightens at the thought.
They spoke her name in whispers, they warned children about her, they erased the truth and replaced it with something easier to digest. A villain they could lock away and forget.
Meanwhile, the real evil wore a different face and no one bothered.
I drag in a shaky breath.
And now everything makes sense in the most horrifying way possible.
Why my mother always felt distant when she appeared. Why her voice carried so much restraint, so much guilt. Why she watched instead of intervening, guided instead of saving. She wasn’t being cruel, she was being careful. Trapped by consequences I’m only just beginning to understand.
And me?
I’m standing right in the middle of the wreckage they left behind.
I glance down at my hands, half-expecting them to be shaking. They’re not. That almost scares me more. Somewhere along the way, shock hardened into resolve.
Because if Eurolys is still tied to Euron… if the seals are weakening… if Auren is burning himself alive to hold together a broken world…
Then this isn’t just history catching up with us.
This is a cycle repeating itself.
And I refuse to be another woman sacrificed on the altar of someone else’s power.
My thoughts drift, unbidden, to Auren. To the way his presence feels like heat against my skin even when he’s not near. To the weight he carries without complaint. To the way everyone keeps asking him to endure just a little longer.
Just like they did my mother.
My throat tightens.
No. I won’t let this end the same way.
Whatever Eurolys started… whatever curse he twisted into existence… I will finish it. Not as a pawn. Not as a sacrifice. But as someone who finally tells the truth, no matter how ugly it is.
I rise from the bed, resolve settling deep in my bones.
If the world is going to burn, then I’ll be the one to decide what rises from the ashes. If Eurolys thinks he can plan a war in Euron and then escape the place to cause havoc, he's got another thing coming.
The sound of the door opening snaps me out of my head and back to the present world. I turn around and see Auren stepping in.
He looks pale, but despite that you wouldn't know he was fighting for his life just hours ago. He's now dressed in a pair of black slacks and grey shirt that's partly unbuttoned. A smirk is settled on his lips, almost like he's trying so hard not to smile.
I don't acknowledge his presence. Not until he steps further into the room and stops directly before me.
“You look paler than I do," he murmurs, his voice coming out in deep octaves. “One would think you were the one fighting for your life not too long ago."
I don't respond. He steps closer and closer and closer till he's standing toe to toe with me and I have to crane my neck to look at him. God he's so tall!
“Tell me, little flame, what is the matter?"
“Nothing, Your Grace." I say, trying to steady my racing heartbeat.
“Hmmm," he hums softly and backs away. “Tyren is having his servants prepare a special brew for me. Fetch it and bring it to me, will you?”
He turns around and leaves, and I know that he didn't mean that as a request.
The door shuts behind him with a soft click, and I release a breath I didn’t realize I’m holding.
Of course he pretends nothing is wrong. Like he wasn't fighting for his life hours ago. Auren has always been good at that…at wearing strength like armor, even when it’s cracking beneath the weight.
I square my shoulders and leave my room.
The corridors are quieter than usual, the palace hushed in that uneasy way it gets after blood has been spilled and no one is brave enough to speak about it. Servants bow as I pass, their eyes flicking up to me with a mix of curiosity and reverence that still makes my skin itch.
Some are going helter skelter trying putting things into place for their festival tonight
The kitchen is warm when I enter, heavy with the scent of crushed herbs and something bitter simmering over low fire. Copper pots hang from the walls, catching the light, and three servants hover around a long counter where a dark liquid steams in a crystal goblet.
That must be it.
One of them notices me and straightens immediately. “Your Grace,” she says, dipping into a bow that feels too deep, too careful.
I nod, uncomfortable. “I’m here for Auren’s brew.”
They exchange glances…the kind that tells me this is not just any medicine.
Of course I know that. Elves don't just make any type of medicine. They are known for their knowledge in herbal remedies.
The oldest among them steps forward, her hands steady as she lifts the goblet and places it onto a silver tray.
“It must be taken while still warm,” she says quietly. “And he must finish all of it. Even if it burns.”
I stiffen. “Burns?”
Her lips press together. “It always does. It's more effective that way.”
My fingers curl around the edge of the tray. The heat seeps into my skin, not enough to hurt, but enough to warn me.
This isn’t a cure. It’s just a delay. A patch over a wound that refuses to close. Something to buy time while they figure out a lasting solution.
“Thank you,” I murmur, and turn away before they can say anything else.
The walk back feels longer.
Each step echoes with thoughts I don’t want to entertain…of his cough, the blood, the way everyone keeps acting like this is sustainable. Like he can just keep drinking brews and pushing through pain and somehow outrun a curse older than the continent itself.
By the time I reach his chambers, my jaw aches from how tightly I’ve been clenching it.
I don’t knock.
I push the door open and step inside.
Big fucking mistake.
Auren stands by the window, one hand braced against the frame, the other pressed loosely to his chest. He straightens when he senses me, schooling his expression into something lighter before turning around.
Fucking naked!
I turn around to leave but the door shuts behind me, an indication that he's not letting me leave.
“There you are,” he says easily. “I was beginning to think you’d rather have me die than deliver me a cup of brew.”
I set the tray down harder than necessary on the table, trying my best to avoid looking his way. “You joke too much for someone whose life is hanging by a thread.”
“When you know you can die at any time, being funny is the only thing you can do."
He grabs a towel from the bed and wraps it around his waist before moving closer, slow and unhurried, like he has all the time in the world. Like he isn’t burning from the inside out. He reaches for the goblet, and I catch his wrist before I can stop myself.
His gaze drops to my hand.
Then lifts back to my face.
Something shifts between us—quiet, sharp, dangerous.
“They said it burns,” I say. “You should probably take it slowly."
A corner of his mouth tugs upward. “Most things worth surviving do. Don't worry, Little Flame. I know how to take my own medicine.”
I hate how calm he is about it. Hate how that calm makes my chest ache, especially since I hate him.
“Just…” I hesitate, then release his wrist. “Just drink it.”
He does.
Doesn’t even flinch as he swallows, though I see the tension lock into his shoulders, see the muscle in his jaw flex like he’s biting back pain. When he’s done, he exhales slowly, like the air itself is heavy.
“You’re being a little too caring,” he says, taking a step forward. .
“I still hate you," I point out, countering each of his forward steps with a backward one.
He chuckles softly and sets the empty goblet aside. “And yet, you fetched my medicine, you panicked when you saw me coughing out.”
I meet his eyes then, really meet them, and for a moment the room feels too small to hold everything I want to say.
“This isn’t a solution,” I tell him, gesturing to the glass he laid on the table. “You know that.”
His expression sobers, just a fraction. “I know.”
He steps closer, close enough that I can feel the heat of him, that familiar pull in my chest answering his presence like it always does. I take one more step and gasp when my back hits the wall.
“But sometimes we do what we do to survive for a while,” he murmurs, finally coming to step right before me. He's so close that I can feel every breath of his fan my face. “You sound so concerned about me."
I lift my gaze to meet his eyes. “Maybe I am.”
For a heartbeat, no one says anything. We just stand there watching each other with electrifying intensity.
Then, quietly, he adds. “That’s exactly why I endure. Because people still need me.”
He raises his hand and my breath stops as he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. The hand travels down my face slowly, making it's way to my collarbone.
“Wh…what are you doing, Auren?” I breathe out, hating the feeling that forms at the bottom of my stomach and the way my pussy throbs at the sound of his voice.
“You want me, don't you little flame?" He murmurs, lowering his lips to my ear.
“N…no…st…stop this.” I manage to get out. He chuckles darkly and rests his hands on my waist, pulling me flush against his chest. I gulp when I feel his rod poking me.
" I bet I can get you to come without putting my cock in you,” he teases and I shake my head to negate whatever he's thinking. “Willing to test that theory?"