Chapter 58
Dawn crept through the worn curtains, painting soft gold across the stone walls and tangled sheets. The fire had long since faded to embers, but the warmth lingered—woven into the space between two bodies, skin pressed to skin, limbs wrapped in quiet closeness.
Elias stirred first.
For a long moment, he did not move. He only lay there, listening—to the faint sound of birds outside the window, to the rhythm of a heart not his own beneath his palm.
Alistair's arm was heavy across his waist, breath steady against his neck.
Elias turned slightly, enough to study the man beside him. Loose strands of dark hair curled across Alistair's brow, his face softer in sleep, stripped of the crown, the name, the burden. Here, he was not prince. Just Alistair. Just the boy who once smiled only for him.
Elias traced his fingers lightly down his shoulder. The touch stirred Alistair, whose brow furrowed as he slowly woke.
Their eyes met in silence.
For a heartbeat, neither spoke.
Then Elias whispered, voice still thick with sleep, "You stayed."
Alistair let out a soft breath, almost a laugh. "You held me too tightly to leave."
Elias smiled, eyes still half-lidded. "I had to be sure you wouldn't vanish with the light."
Alistair turned to lie fully on his side, facing him. "It has been years," he murmured, "and yet, you still speak like that."
"Do you mind?" Elias asked, teasingly.
Alistair as shook his head, smile faint. "I missed it more than I dare admit."
Alistair's gaze turned serious. He reached up and brushed a thumb beneath Elias's eye where the trace of tears had dried hours ago. "I meant what I said last night… I'm sorry, Elias."
"You should be," Elias said, though his tone held no bite. "You left me in the dark. Without a word. Without even a farewell."
Alistair looked away for a moment, shame tightening his jaw. "I thought it would be easier. Cleaner. I was afraid of what I'd do if I saw you again."
"And now?" Elias asked, voice low.
"Now," Alistair breathed, turning back to him, "I can't pretend anymore. I can't keep looking past you as though you're nothing. You're not. You never were."
Elias reached out, letting his fingers run down Alistair's cheek, then rest at his neck. "What are we now, then?"
Alistair leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to Elias's lips. "What we've always been. What we never stopped being."
The kiss deepened, slow and lingering, but neither moved beyond it. The world outside was waiting—its duties, its burdens, its rules. But here, in the quiet hush of dawn, they allowed themselves a little more time.
Alistair pulled Elias close again, holding him as though it would keep the day from starting.
---
The first blush of dawn crept through the cracks of the stone walls, brushing the hidden chamber in soft gold. Cold air clung to the space, but the warmth between them lingered like smoke.
Elias sat with his back against the wall, legs drawn slightly close, his cloak half-draped around him. Beside him, Alistair fastened the clasps of his tunic with quiet hands, each motion calm, though his gaze often drifted toward Elias.
"I miss this," Elias murmured, voice barely above a whisper. There was no shame in it—only honesty, worn and tired.
Alistair turned, a faint smile on his lips. He knelt before Elias, smoothing a hand through the dark strands of his hair. "So do I," he said quietly, and leaned down to kiss him—slow, tender, and full of memory.
When they parted, Alistair stood fully and adjusted his cloak. Elias watched him, memorizing him as he always did in these stolen mornings.
Without another word, Alistair stepped out into the shadows of the corridor, vanishing like mist at sunrise.
Elias remained where he was, chest rising and falling slowly. His fingertips touched his lips, the taste of Alistair still lingering. After a long breath, he stood and began to gather himself. His sword. His cloak. The coolness had returned to the stones beneath his feet.
He left the hidden space, walking with silent steps through the quiet halls.
But fate was never still.
As he turned a corner, he saw him—Caven. Standing at attention near a pillar, but his eyes were not watching the corridor. They were watching Elias.
Elias's breath hitched, and without thinking, he moved quickly, hoping to pass unnoticed. But Caven had already seen. In two strides, he was beside him, catching him gently by the wrist.
"Elias, wait—" he said softly.
Elias yanked his hand away with force, voice sharp and clipped. "Return to your post."
Caven blinked, startled by the sudden coldness. "What…?"
"That is not a request, soldier," Elias said, tone tight with restraint.
He turned and walked off, not daring to look back.
Caven stood frozen, his hand still half-raised, confusion etched across his face. He watched Elias disappear into the corridor, the air between them colder than the dawn. Something had shifted—and he did not yet understand what.
---
A knock echoed softly upon the chamber door.
"What is it?" Alissa called, her voice muffled by the silken pillow beneath her cheek.
A gentle voice answered from beyond the door. "Forgive me, my lady, but your father has summoned you to his study."
Alissa sighed and sat up, brushing strands of hair from her face. "Tell him I shall be there shortly."
The maid's footsteps faded down the corridor, and Alissa turned toward the bed. Adam lay still beneath the linens, his breath even and peaceful in sleep, one arm curled near where she had lain moments before.
She smiled faintly, then slipped into her gown. Kneeling beside the bed, she leaned forward and kissed his brow, letting her lips linger for a heartbeat. He stirred, eyes fluttering but never waking, and she rose silently and left the room.
The halls of the keep were quiet in the morning light, the scent of parchment and old stone lingering in the air. When she entered her father's study, the fire was already kindled and warm.
"You asked for me, Father?" she said, stepping inside.
"Aye, daughter," Mathias replied, his voice low and thoughtful. "Sit."
She took the chair across from him, her gaze steady upon his.
"There has come an invitation from Aethelgar," he said. "King Tommen has called forth a gathering. His son is to choose a bride. Maidens from noble houses shall compete for his favor."
Alissa's brow furrowed. "Compete?" she repeated, the word tasting bitter on her tongue. "I do not wish to—"
"Nor do I wish for you to wed any with Tommen's blood in their veins," Mathias interrupted, firm but weary. "But Valla is not in a place to defy such a call. You will go… but you will lose."
She stilled.
"We must not offend the most powerful kingdom in the realm. But if you are not chosen, Valla shall be spared the risk of deeper ties. You must not win, Alissa. That is the path forward."
His eyes searched hers, shadowed with regret.
"I know I have failed you in many ways. I may not be the father you deserved."
"No," Alissa said softly, her hand reaching across the table to grasp his. "You are a great father. I know this choice weighs heavy, but I will bear it. For Valla… I will do what must be done."
She brought his hand to her lips and kissed it, her eyes shimmering.
Mathias looked at his daughter, silent for a long while. Gratitude filled his gaze. In her, he saw courage greater than his own.