Chapter Seven Ronan

Chapter Seven

Ronan

I wake with Elara nestled in my arms, her soft breaths warm against my chest. The early morning light filters through the thin curtains, casting a gentle glow across her face and painting the room in rich golds and ambers. If this were another time, another place, I might allow myself to forget the weight of my mission, the burden of vengeance that has driven me for so long.

Over the past five days, Elara and I have settled into an unexpected rhythm. She worked tirelessly to master every task Sally taught, even as she grumbled at me, frequently and colorfully, whenever Sally wasn’t around. I admire how hard she pushed herself to perfect each assignment. Her determination matches her fiery spirit. “Naughty nymph” is an appropriate moniker.

Last night, after she drifted to sleep, I decided against calling for hot water and having a bath prepared. She was so tired, waking her would have been unkind. Instead, I wrapped my arm around her, intending to place her on her bedroll. But as I moved to lay her down, her fingers curled around my shoulders. She mumbled softly, her words slurred by sleep, but the meaning was clear enough: She wanted me to stay.

Unable to refuse the softness of her touch and the quiet plea in her voice, I slipped us both under the covers. She settled against me with a contented sigh, her head tucked beneath my chin. I kept my arms around her all night, the steady rise and fall of her breathing lulling me into a peace I haven’t felt in years. It was the best rest I’ve had since my family was destroyed.

Now, in the soft glow of dawn, I allow myself the luxury of studying her. Loose strands of auburn hair fan out across the pillow, catching the light and shimmering like threads of copper and gold. Her lashes rest against her cheeks, her lips slightly parted. An unfamiliar warmth spreads through my chest, a feeling I half deny even as it takes root. She’s beautiful in a way that feels effortless, genuine.

A pale scar runs along the bridge of her nose, something I hadn’t noticed before. What else about her don’t I know?

Resisting the urge to place a kiss on her smooth brow, I carefully extract myself from her embrace. Her arms slip away reluctantly, and she murmurs something unintelligible, her brows knitting together before she settles back into sleep. I sit at the edge of the bed for a moment, running a hand through my hair as I collect my thoughts.

Since we didn’t bathe or eat last night, I head downstairs to request hot water be brought up along with something to break our fast. Tonight is the pawn trial for the festival, and we have much to do before then to ensure she is truly ready.

When I return to the room, Elara is sitting up in bed. Her hand rests on the place where I had lain minutes before, her fingers tracing the creases in the sheets as if seeking lingering warmth. She looks up as I enter, hair mussed and blinking the sleep from her eyes.

“Did I…” She pauses. Her cheeks turn a pretty shade of pink, and that chipped tooth worries her full lower lip. “Did I tell you to stay with me last night?”

“Don’t worry,” I say, my mouth tipping up in an easy grin—an expression that has become more frequent around her. “I will not tell anyone you begged for my company.”

Her soft green eyes roll dramatically. “Beg? That’ll be the day.”

She doesn’t know it yet, but today is that day. “I have ordered a bath and food. Once we’ve finished with both, you have one last lesson you must learn before the trial.”

Elara’s frown deepens, her lips forming a slight pout. She looks like a child just told she cannot have a treat, and the sight stirs an inexplicable urge to tease her further. “But you said I wasn’t training with Sally today. You said she taught me everything I need to know.”

“And she did. Everything you need to know from her . Today, Sally is not your teacher.”

She releases a resigned sigh, pushing herself to her feet and stretching her arms overhead. “All right. What’s the lesson, and who’s the teacher?”

“The lesson is obedience.” I relish the moment, crossing my arms over my chest, a wolfish grin spreading across my face. “And the teacher is me.”

She raises an eyebrow, a spark of defiance igniting her green gaze. “Obedience? You make it sound like I’m some pet in need of training.”

“If you’re to convince Lady Clayton and her ilk tonight, you’ll need to embody the role completely. Pawns are expected to follow orders without question or hesitation.”

“And you think you can teach me to be completely obedient in one day?”

“I have faith in your abilities,” I reply smoothly. “You’ve proven yourself to be a quick learner when properly motivated.”

She tilts her head, a mischievous grin tugging at the corner of her mouth. “And what will be my motivation this time?”

I take a step closer, the distance between us shrinking. “Perhaps the promise of my continued assistance in finding a way back to your realm. Or maybe simply avoiding the displeasure of Lady Clayton, who is known for her…harsh treatment of disobedient pawns.”

She swallows, her shoulders stiffening. “Fine,” she concedes. “You’re lucky I need help getting back home.”

There’s a knock at the door, and a maid enters with a tray of fresh bread, fruit, and a steaming pot of tea. She quietly sets the tray on the table and pours two cups before leaving the room as quickly as she came.

Elara and I settle at the small table, the quiet clatter of cutlery filling the silence as we begin our meal. I watch as she spreads butter over a slice of bread, and I’m suddenly reminded of slow mornings at home before everything went wrong.

“Do you miss it?” I ask, surprising even myself with the question.

She blinks up at me. “Miss what?”

“Your home,” I clarify. “Your realm.”

A wistful smile tugs at her lips. “Every day,” she admits. “But I try not to dwell on the negative. Instead, I use it as motivation.” She shakes her head, that chipped tooth pressing into her lip. “It doesn’t do any good to give in to the sadness. Taking action is the only thing that will get me what I want.”

“I understand.”

She studies me for a moment, her gaze searching. “What about you? Do you ever think about…before?”

“Before?” I echo, swirling the tea in my cup.

“Before you decided to seek vengeance and fully commit to being the morally gray hero?” Her brows lift as she pops a piece of buttered bread into her mouth.

My jaw ticks, muscles clenching. I should never have asked her the question. I should never have—

“You know, it helps to talk about it.”

“Finish your meal,” I say, losing my appetite completely.

Another knock at the door signals the arrival of the hot water. I let the maids enter, and they bustle about, filling the large copper tub, the scents of lavender and chamomile spilling into the air as they add fragrant oils to the water.

I follow them to the door as they depart. “I’ll leave you to bathe. Make it quick. We have an appointment to keep.”

I don’t wait for her answer before I step into the hallway and close the door behind me.