25. Saoirse

Saoirse

D inner was everything I hated, and more.

We walked into an intricately adorned hall, decorated from floor to ceiling in the kingdom's utmost gilded finery. Crystal chandeliers draped down elegantly over the long tables in the center of the room. Two miniature thrones were placed at the head of the ancient oak, jeweled with just enough crystallized glass to give them an air of opulence without being too ostentatious. The sight of my parents seated there, regal and imposing, only adding to the anxiety that gnawed at my insides.

The table was nearly full, only a few faces recognizable amongst the sea of nobles and foreign dignitaries who were already in their places. My eyes scanned the space, quickly spotting the open seat next to the queen, and only one other, at the end of the table as far from the royal head as possible. Lightlace custom dictated royal heirs sit next to their parents, but I felt no love lost that a place had not been saved for me.

I was nothing to them, after all.

Xan's slim hand slid into mine, the cold press of her palm a comfort against the hot rush of dread that commanded my body. "You'll be okay," she said, her baby blues doing their best to reassure me. "Take that spot next to Len, he's actually pretty nice. Nothing compared to Kian." The Ocea prince's head rose to look at us, as if he'd heard his name being called. Maybe he had.

The Miren were a people of incredible physical enhancements, and hearing could have very well been one of them. But mostly, they were known for their ability to breathe underwater, and their extremely tough to pierce skin, which was covered in a light layer of scales. They were beautiful, their skin holding just the hint of an opaque blue glow, as if a spotlight illuminated them from within. Len was no different, his handsome face surely the envy of the Lightlace men, as if he'd been carved by the sea itself.

"Hello Saoirse," Len's voice was gentle, his dark eyes warm as I sat next to him, sliding into my chair with a furtive glance around me, not used to being near so many politically important people at once. The ballroom's ambiance softened around us, our conversation seemingly more private as I settled in.

I managed a small smile, my heart skidding across my ribcage. "Prince Len, it is nice to see you again." The greeting was awkward, the propriety feeling alien on my unpracticed tongue.

His lips curved into a grin, almost boyish in its sincerity. Immediately I knew I liked him. He seemed like the kind of person you knew you could trust with your secrets, and they'd go to the grave before they ever told a soul. It was something in his eyes. "I was hoping I'd get the chance to talk to you tonight. Do you not often come to family affairs?"

Not many people had ever looked at me that way, as if they genuinely cared about what I had to say, and it caught me off guard. I stared at him, wondering just how much I should tell him. But I didn't care about diplomacy, or whether the Ocea princes deemed our kingdom worthy of allying with, or whatever it was that my parents sought from them. " Can't attend what I am not invited to. My parents want nothing to do with me, and trust me, the sentiment is the same."

Len nodded, an intelligence to him that I liked. "I can imagine. You're not missing out. I always find gatherings like these to be a bit much if you don't have a friend by your side to keep you sane."

A small, grateful smile tugged at my lips. "I've never had the opportunity to find out."

"Well, maybe tonight can be different," Len said, straightening as he turned slightly to me. Conversation dinned all around us, but I paid it no regard, doing my best not to let my eyes dart to the head of the table. "If you'd allow me, I can be your friend for the night. Before you know it, the night will be over."

The sincerity in his voice was disarming, and I found myself nodding before I could think twice. "I think I'd like that."

Len kept true to his word, dinner passing by much easier than I had expected, due to his quick wit and cleverly worded jokes. He was easy to talk to, laid back and not at all what I had imagined a prince to be like.

Before I knew it, dinner was coming to a close, and despite my original reservations, I'd quite enjoyed myself. Len turned to me, downing the last dregs of his wine glass. "I'm not quite ready to end the night. Would you like to take a walk around the gardens, and avoid all the awkward formalities of saying goodbye to all these people?"

"I thought you'd never ask," I replied, already sliding from my chair. My father's eyes tracked us as we left, but no one made a move to stop us, too deeply engrossed as they were into their own conversations.

Len led me through the grand doors and around the corner, the nearest exit that would let us out near the gardens. The castle was an impressive feat of architecture, and even the surrounding grounds had been expertly crafted into a spectacle all of its own. When I had lived here, it'd been a welcome place for me to stroll, often taking a book out to read under the soft rays of the autumn sun .

The cool night air was a welcome relief from the stuffy ballroom, the gravel crunching softly under our feet in the dimming golden rays. Soft, glowing lanterns illuminated the gardens, a magical light drenching the flowers and pathways. The hum of the party faded behind us, leaving a tranquil, still silence in its wake.

We walked slowly over the earth, the tension that had gripped me at dinner easing out with each exhale, a contentedness taking its place.

"This is beautiful," I admired, glancing around at the meticulously maintained flowers and shrubs. Bright red and pink roses climbed the trellises, their petals opening wide, as if to catch the light. Delicate lilies floated in small ponds along the way, their white blooms reflecting in the still water, small fish darting around beneath the surface. Beds of lavender bordered the paths, their purple spikes perfuming the air with every step.

"It really is," Len agreed, his eyes mirroring my own admiration. "We don't have gardens like this back home. The flowers are stunning." Of course. Ocea was primarily under the water, where most of their residents chose to dwell, with a much smaller population opting for the high, raised cliffs that decorated their southern borders. I've heard there are very little humans still left in Ocea, but the ones that did resided there.

"So tell me," he began, breaking our comfortable silence. "What do you do here in Lanthus? You don't strike me as one for politics."

I hesitated, then said, "I run a bakery in the city. It's nothing amazing, but it keeps a roof over my head."

Len's eyes brightened with genuine interest. "A bakery? That sounds wonderful. What's your best pastry?"

"Bloodberry tarts sell the best," I replied, a hint of pride in my voice. "But my favorite are the truffles. There's just something about rich, indulgent chocolate that really makes me happy. "

"I'd love to try one sometime," Len said, a warm smile curving his lips. We kept walking, making a wide loop around the beautiful scenery.

"How long are you staying for?" What I was truly asking was how long do I need to attend dinners, but this seemed a nicer way to phrase it.

"Until the spring," he replied, easing his steps to match mine. "I'm not sure what my father hopes to gain from this arrangement, but choice is not really something he's ever given us, so here we are."

"He's not coming?"

Len shook his head, a shadow passing over his face. "No, he sends my brother and I out to handle the more... diplomatic tasks."

"I see," I said, sensing there was more to the story but not wanting to pry.

Len glanced at me, his expression softening. "It's not all bad, though. I've seen some truly incredible stuff in our travels."

"Like Lanthus?" I asked with a small smile.

"Exactly," Len replied, his eyes hesitating on mine for an instant too long.

We walked in companionable silence for a while, the path winding through arches of wisteria, their pale violet blooms hanging in fragrant clusters, mingling with the earthy aroma of the garden.

"I've never been to Ocea," I said after a moment. "What's it like?"

"It's very different from here," Len said, his tone thoughtful. "Stunningly beautiful, the things we have under the water's surface you would be shocked to see. But it can feel isolating sometimes. My father prefers to live away from his people, in the deepest part of the ocean. There is a certain freedom in being able to walk through a garden like this, to feel the earth beneath your feet."

"It is nice being able to ground yourself."

"Yes, exactly." He paused, a curious expression on his face. "Is that man you were in the library with—the tall, menacing one—is he your boyfriend? "

My insides went cold, the sheer question of what Vane was to me throwing me for a loop. Yesterday I would have been able to answer no with quick and complete honesty, but now... What was he to me now, and what did I want him to be?

Once this was all over, he would leave, going back to his life of anonymity, where I'm sure he had no room for a powerless witch. There wasn't a future there, there couldn't be, and what had happened in the springs had been a mistake. A lust-crazed, not well thought out mistake.

"No," I said finally. "He works in the bakery with me, that's all."

"I see," was all he said, but there was a slight turn to the corner of his mouth.

As we exited the garden, a figure approached us from the direction of the palace. The familiar silhouette made my chest constrict. The king stalked toward us with an expression that was anything but pleasant.

"Saoirse," he called out, his voice stern. "A word."

Len glanced at me, concern in his eyes at my father's tone. I debated asking for help, to tell him to not leave me alone with my father, but my tongue was leaden and heavy in my mouth. Not knowing any better, Len nodded to my father, just low enough to maintain respect. "I'll leave you two alone. See you tomorrow," he said to me softly, then strode off without a backward glance.

I watched as he walked away, wanting to reach out and call him back. My father's presence was a dark, brewing cloud, oppressive and unyielding as he waited for Len to get out of earshot.

I took a preemptive step back, wanting to keep as much distance between us. We were alone in the garden, but anyone could easily slip out and I hoped to gods that they did. He wouldn't take the chance to put his hands on me, not with all these foreign dignitaries around.

I waited for him to speak, and he looked around before he did. "Jephyr Harlow's body was found in the forest," he said finally, his voice low and sharp enough to cut steel. "I wanted an issue free visit for the Ocea delegates, but now I have to deal with this too. Care to explain how he ended up dead?"

Panic surged through me, my heart racing as my breath became shallow. I tried to speak, but my throat constricted, the words stuck.

"I... I didn't... "

"I know you didn't," he snapped, stepping closer, his eyes narrowing. "You are clearly incapable of murdering a highly decorated guard like Jephyr. But I saw him leave the Awakening, right after you did. I've seen the way that boy watches you. What happened?"

Tears welled in my eyes as the full weight of his accusation crushed down on me. Breathing became harder, lightheadedness creeping in, my vision darkening. What should I do?

"I didn't... I have no idea," I finished lamely, my voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't see him after the party. I went straight home." I did my best to gather myself, to look convincing as I forced my gaze to his. Holding his eyes was something I had nightmares about, but he couldn't know about what happened. He couldn't know about Vane.

My father's gaze was icy, unrelenting. "You're lying," he said coldly. His arm raised and I flinched, thinking he was moving to hit me. He laughed, a soulless sound as he brought the hand to run through his unruly ginger hair, the only thing that could visibly connect us together. "For all we know, you were the last one to see him alive. An investigation is well underway, and we will find the person responsible. If I found out you're involved in any way, you will pay dearly. If you mess up our attempts to make an alliance with the Ocea kingdom, you will never breathe fresh air again."

I nodded numbly, unable to speak, as he turned to leave. My legs felt weak, barely able to support my weight as I stumbled back in the direction of the palace. The voices of the dinner guest grew louder as I approached, but they sounded distant, muffled by the roaring panic in my ears .

Len was near the entrance, his face lighting up with relief when he saw me. "Saoirse, are you alright?"

I forced a smile, trying to hide the turmoil inside me, but I could tell by the level of concern on his face that I was failing. "Yes, I'm fine. Just... needed a moment." It made no sense; I knew it as soon as they left my tongue. He'd clearly just seen me talking to my father and must know something was up. I forced another reassuring smile, willing my face into a mask of calm, impenetrable.

Finally, he nodded, then his attention was turned as one of his delegates tapped him on the shoulder, leaning in to ask him a question in hushed tones.

Taking a deep breath, I took advantage of the distraction and made my way to the side of the room, cleanly slipping through and out into the cool night air beyond. The streets were dark and empty, shadows stretching long and menacing in the fully dimmed sun. It wouldn't be long until guests started to depart, and I was determined not to be here when they did. With every step I took, my paranoia built, looking over my shoulder every few seconds, half expecting to see my father chasing after me.

He was my nightmare, whether I was awake or not.

When I finally reached the small door to the bakery, the walls were closing in on me, my fingers shaking as I turned the key in the lock, letting myself in. The silence of the space was deafening, the darkness oppressive. Memories of my father's threats, of Jephyr's lifeless body, of Vane's situation, his piercing crimson eyes as they scorched my skin all crashed down on me at once.

I collapsed onto the floor, my breath coming in ragged gasps. My heart pounded in my chest, my vision blurring with tears. The thought of being caught, of my father's wrath that had burned me many times over—it was all too much. Fear twisted inside me like a knife, a dark, suffocating presence that I couldn't escape .

No, no, no. I couldn't do this. I can't face my father again. If he finds out, if he takes me back—

The thoughts spiraled out of control in a never-ending loop of dread and hopelessness. My father's cold eyes, his voice dripping with contempt, haunted me. I couldn't shake it. Memories I thought I'd long buried rose to the surface, fighting for dominance as they clawed their way up.

It rose like a tidal wave in me, threatening to drown me. My chest tightened, my breath coming in short, shallow gasps. The room spun around me, and I was trapped, suffocating, unable to escape the dark prison my mind created.

Locked up. No air, no freedom, never again.

The panic attack gripped me fully, a tremble taking over my body. I couldn't breathe, couldn't think. The world spun around me, a vortex of fear and despair. I needed to escape, to find some relief, anything I could do to make it stop.

Pushing myself off the worn floor, I stumbled to the small kitchen, my hands shaking as I rummaged through the drawer where I knew it would be. My razor tucked away safely where I had moved it once Vane had taken residence. I tried to be as quiet as I could, my hushed gasps the only noise in the still room as I slid the cold steel between my fingers, sliding my back against the counter until my butt slid to a halt on the floor.

I eyed the razor, the sharp edge glinting in the dim lighting. My vision blurred with tears, my mind a maelstrom of chaos. Without lingering on the thought, I stacked my legs, pressing the blade to the skin of my ankle before I could second guess it, the sharp bite cutting through the darkness that threatened to swallow me whole.

The pain grounded me, a momentary escape. The blood welled up, a dark red line against my pale skin, a deeper cut than I would normally go for. It hurt, but it was one I could control, unlike the blanket of despair that had taken hold of me.

The tears flowed freely now, a torrent that slipped down my cheeks like a free-flowing river as I made another cut. Then another. When I felt the ache deep into my bones, I hugged my knees to my chest, rocking back and forth as I tried to calm my racing heart.

There I sat, waiting for the numbness I craved to swallow me whole.