The days that followed our argument were eerily quiet. Ciara had disappeared without a trace, and while I tried to convince myself that her absence was a relief, it gnawed at me in ways I wasn't prepared to admit.
It was easier this way, I told myself easier not to have to deal with her constant presence, her overprotectiveness, and the confusing, unwelcome feelings she stirred in me.
I didn't have to face her, and I certainly didn't have to be the one to apologize. I wasn't going to be the one to cave, even if a small, stubborn part of me knew I was the one in the wrong.
But with each passing day, that silence grew heavier. It settled in the pit of my stomach like a weight, tugging at me whenever I wasn't distracted. And the castle, once a sanctuary of routine and predictability, started to feel stifling without her sharp, infuriating presence.
I found myself glancing at doorways, expecting her to stride through with that infuriating smirk, or looking over my shoulder during training, half-expecting to catch her watching me with that intense, scrutinizing gaze.
Except she wasn't there. She was nowhere.
Today was no different. I had been up early, restless and irritated, desperate to burn off the energy that had been building up in me since our argument.
The training grounds had become my refuge a place where I could channel my frustrations into something tangible. But even the familiarity of the sword in my hand and the rhythmic clash of blades couldn't keep my thoughts from wandering back to her.
Nathaniel was sparring with me this morning. He was good, his movements sharp and precise, but I could tell he was holding back. Whether it was out of respect or some misplaced sense of chivalry, I wasn't sure.
Either way, it only served to irritate me further. I didn't need his pity or his overprotectiveness. I needed to forget about Ciara, about the argument, about everything.
As the sun climbed higher in the sky, the heat began to make itself known. Sweat dripped down my brow, and I pushed harder, driving Nathaniel back with a series of quick strikes. He parried each one with ease, a smile playing at the corners of his lips.
"You're getting better," he remarked, sidestepping a particularly forceful lunge. "But you're still letting your emotions get the better of you."
I scowled, narrowing my eyes at him as I pulled back for a moment, catching my breath. "I'm fine," I snapped, irritated by his observation. He was right, of course, but I wasn't about to admit that to him.
Nathaniel chuckled, lowering his sword slightly as he straightened. "Let's take a break," he suggested, his tone light and easygoing. "You're pushing yourself too hard."
"I'm fine," I repeated, more forcefully this time, but I could already feel the fatigue settling into my muscles. Reluctantly, I nodded, sheathing my sword as I followed him to the edge of the training grounds, where a shaded area offered some respite from the sun's relentless heat.
Nathaniel handed me a waterskin, his eyes lingering on me in that way that was becoming increasingly familiar. He'd been like this ever since Ciara left more attentive, more present. Part of me wondered if he saw this as an opportunity, a chance to step into the space Ciara had left behind.
"Thanks," I muttered, taking the waterskin from him and drinking deeply. The cool water was refreshing, and I closed my eyes for a moment, savoring the brief reprieve.
When I opened them again, Nathaniel was watching me, his expression unreadable. "You know, you've been a bit off lately," he remarked, leaning casually against a nearby tree. "Anything you want to talk about?"
I shook my head, wiping the sweat from my brow. "Nothing to talk about," I replied, my voice clipped. I didn't want to talk. I didn't want to think.
I just wanted to get through this training session and hopefully exhaust myself enough that I wouldn't have to deal with the thoughts that plagued me when I was alone.
Nathaniel wasn't deterred, though. He stepped closer, his gaze softening as he reached out to brush a stray lock of hair from my face. "You know, you don't have to keep everything bottled up," he said gently. "I'm here if you need someone to talk to."
The gesture was kind, the words even kinder, but they grated on me in a way I couldn't quite explain.
Maybe it was because he wasn't Ciara, and part of me wished she was the one saying these things. Or maybe it was because his touch, while warm and comforting, didn't ignite the same spark in me that Ciara's did.
But I didn't push him away. I let him step closer, allowed myself to lean into the comfort he was offering, even if it wasn't exactly what I wanted. Maybe this was better, I thought. Maybe Nathaniel, with his easy smile and gentle words, was a safer choice.
He wasn't complicated, he wasn't unpredictable, and he didn't stir up emotions in me that I wasn't ready to face.
"Thanks, Nathaniel," I murmured, offering him a small, weary smile. "I appreciate it."
He smiled back, his eyes warm and understanding. "Anytime, Aeliana," he replied, his voice soft. "You deserve someone who'll take care of you."
The words hung between us, heavy with meaning. I could feel the shift in the air, the unspoken invitation in his gaze. And for a moment, I considered it. I considered letting him in, letting him be the one to fill the void Ciara had left behind.
But before I could say anything, the sound of footsteps approaching interrupted the moment. I turned to see Leora making her way toward us, her expression as composed as ever. She greeted us with a nod, her gaze flicking between the two of us before settling on Nathaniel.
"Nathaniel," she said, her tone brisk. "I have a mission for you. It's urgent."
Nathaniel straightened, his expression shifting from relaxed to alert in an instant. "Of course," he replied, giving me a quick, apologetic glance before turning back to Leora. "What do you need?"
Leora handed him a rolled-up parchment, her expression serious. "You'll find the details here. It's a delicate situation, so I trust you'll handle it with care."
Nathaniel nodded, taking the parchment from her with a sense of purpose. "I'll leave immediately," he said, and with a final glance in my direction a glance that held a promise of something more he turned and made his way toward the castle.
I watched him go, a strange mix of relief and disappointment settling in my chest. It was easier this way, I told myself. Easier not to get tangled up in something that could only lead to more confusion.
Leora's voice pulled me from my thoughts. "Aeliana," she said, her tone softer now. "May I have a word?"
I nodded, turning to face her fully. "Of course."
Leora studied me for a moment, her gaze sharp and discerning. "Ciara," she began, and just hearing her name sent a jolt through me. "Did she come to see you after the argument?"
I stiffened slightly, the memory of our fight still fresh in my mind. "No," I replied, my voice tinged with bitterness. "She didn't."
Leora's brow furrowed, a flicker of something unreadable passing through her eyes. "That's strange," she murmured, almost to herself. "She told me she was going to apologize."
I blinked, surprised by the revelation. Ciara was going to apologize? The idea seemed almost foreign to me, and yet... it made a strange sort of sense. She'd always been stubborn, but there had been something different in her eyes during our last encounter something that hinted at a vulnerability she rarely showed.
But then why hadn't she come? Why had she disappeared without a word?
Leora must have seen the confusion on my face because she offered me a small, reassuring smile. "Don't worry," she said gently. "I'm sure she'll come around."
I nodded slowly, but the uncertainty still lingered. As Leora turned to leave, I couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to Ciara's absence than I realized.
And as the day wore on, that feeling only grew stronger, leaving me with more questions than answers and a hollow ache where the anger had once been.