Chapter 43 She Has No Regard

Chapter 43 She Has No Regard
💥 Seraphina 💥

The door cracked against its frame with a force that made the walls tremble.

The sound hit my chest like a stone.

My breath caught.

Unbelievable, a leopard will never change his ways. Him being a king doesn't give him the right to think less of me. I was born with special abilities, he should learn to live that I have the upper hand than him. He should accept me.

The ache that followed was immediate, deep, humiliating.

Before I even knew it, tears spilled hot and fast, blurring the wooden edges of the room into watery shapes. I pressed a hand against my mouth, trying to hold back the sob building in my throat — but it burst out anyway.

I sank onto the edge of the bed, shoulders trembling.

How stupid.

How utterly stupid of me.

Every raised heartbeat…Every moment last night when I worried if he was cold…Every glance I stole at him while he slept…Every whisper of hope that maybe — just maybe — we were finally fighting on the same side…

All of it now felt ridiculous.

A mockery of my own mind.

I dragged my palm across my cheeks, but the tears kept coming, hotter with each breath.

My gaze drifted to the lamp. The lamp he had refused. A weapon he could look up to in times of hardship. Such a blockhead fool!

The lamp shone brightly..not in a way that the being in it would emerge but just to show its presence and to assure me that it's watching all the way through.

Thinking about it, It felt… sympathetic.

The glow didn’t judge.

It was soothing.

Like a hand resting gently on my back. I hated that it only made me cry harder.

The resentment in my chest twisted tighter, a coil of pain mixed with anger — at Elias, at myself, at this place, at this stupid loop that refused to end. I'd forever be a fool in his eyes.

Minutes passed, or maybe longer. I lost track of time.

I just sat there, heart heavy, eyes swollen, mind replaying every harsh word he’d thrown at me… and every softer one I’d felt beneath his actions but never heard.

And then, from outside, a voice drifted through the wooden door:

“Seraphina?”

Liora.

My breath hitched.

“They are about to depart,” she called gently. “The men will be taken any moment now.”

My heart dropped.

Elias.

That minute it dropped to my ear — just a moment — my mind raced with fear. He knew no one here. He had no magic. He didn’t belong to their world. How was he supposed to survive among people who weren’t even his kind?

How would they treat him?

Would he fight back?
Would he stay silent?
Would he be hurt?

My pulse quickened painfully. Then I forced my breath out.

No.
No, I wouldn’t do this.
Not again.

I wiped my face roughly and straightened my back.

“I heard you!” I called out, trying to keep my voice from shaking. “You can go. I’ll just… stay in the room.”

There was a small pause outside — hesitation, maybe concern — before Liora answered softly:

“Alright, dear.”

I hugged my arms around myself, beneath everything, one truth refused to fade:

I didn’t want him gone.

And that terrified me more than the king, the separation, or the sacrifice.

🌟 ELIAS 🌟

I had been angry at Seraphina before I stepped into the bathroom. I thought I'd let go of the anger and frustration as the water washed on my skin but I hadn’t expected the anger to grow after I had washed the dirt and sweat off me. If anything, I expected it to fade.

But when I stepped out, and saw her standing there—her face tight, —something inside me snapped in a way I couldn’t control. The words that came out of me… gods, I didn’t even know where they came from. I heard myself, and part of me regretted it after speaking.

But apologize?

No.

I wasn’t going to do that. That's not the duty of a king. And it's not to a Fae. Not to someone connected to them in every way. The mindset and all, the arrogance. Not when they were the reason for every twist and chokehold my fate had taken.

They had cursed the path of my life long before Seraphina ever looked in my direction. They were the reason I was here—trapped in a place with glowing walls and people who didn’t speak my language of anger or survival.

So I paced after leaving the room, chest tight, trying to shake off the image of her face. Trying to drown out the part of me that kept replaying the sound of her breath catching when I slammed the door.

When it was finally time to go, I stood among the other men, half-listening to them speak about preparations and routes. My eyes kept lifting—searching.

Maybe she would step out.
Maybe she would come around the corner.
Maybe she would remember that I didn’t know this place, didn’t know these people, didn’t know the rules here.

I expected her to show up just once—to give me some kind of assurance. To tell me she would think of something, that she would come find me, that she would watch out for me even if from afar.

But Seraphina?

She was nowhere. Not behind the house. Not beside Liora. Not even pretending not to be watching. She brought me into this, yet she's not capable of taking the whole risk.

As we finally departed, her absence felt too loud to ignore. I glanced back again and again—five times? ten?—waiting for a flash of her hair, the silhouette of her form in the doorway. But the house remained still, closed, empty.

Eventually, I let out a long breath through my nose.
“Fine,” I muttered under it, so no one would hear.
If she didn’t care, then I wouldn’t care either.

Ungrateful.

That’s what she was.

After everything—every moment she practically dragged me around, spoke like she needed me alive—she had no regard, none at all, for what it meant to send a man off without a word.

I faced forward and walked.

The men around me started talking—about work, about the weather at the Still City’s edge, about their families, about some trade of fish and wood—but I heard none of it. Their voices washed over me like noise. My mind drifted to the one person who should have said something but didn’t.

We walked farther, crossing through an area I vaguely recognized. The path curved, and soon the terrain shifted. When I saw the old markers on the ground, I realized we had crossed over to the opposite side of where we’d stayed. If I wanted to go back on foot now… it would be a long walk. Longer than the anger in me could tolerate.

Longer than pride would allow.

“Elias!”