"We can trust them," Given's voice, hoarse and laced with pain, broke the silence. Elara sat beside him, leaning against the massive oak tree. His words carried an unspoken reassurance, though his labored breaths betrayed his struggle. He barely held on, his gaze flickering with determination, as if staying conscious was his only way of protecting her. "For now," he added, his head lolling to the side.
Elara followed his gaze to Morgana and Volkov, who stood a short distance away, locked in conversation. Morgana's gestures were sharp, her questions pointed, while Volkov responded with an almost infuriating calm. The two spoke about the state of the town, their voices too low for Elara to catch every word , but if she wanted to eavesdrop she would've ; she just had things in mind that required her attention .
Given's thoughts wandered as he stared at them. How had the Alpha Lycan gained the upper hand in this conflict, despite being shackled and scattered before the war began? This wasn't even the true war—just a prelude. If Theron hadn't allowed him to join the army, would the Darius still have managed to protect Lunareth? Would Elara still be safe?
His musings were interrupted by her soft voice.
"How did we do that?"
He blinked, turning his attention back to her. "What?"
Elara's silver eyes darted to Morgana and Volkov, then back to him. "Communicate with each other… through our minds?"
Given summoned his remaining strength, pushing himself upright with a groan. He spoke just above a whisper, his voice still rough but steady. "It's something you and Leroy could do and add us on the conversation . You're the one who opens the connection for me, though. Between the two of us ." He paused, collecting his thoughts. "It starts with focus. You have to concentrate, not just on their mind but on their presence—on their body. Trigger their emotions, make them feel something intense enough to lower their guard. That's when you can slip into their thoughts."
Elara tilted her head, absorbing his explanation. "And then what?"
"You'll feel it—like a door opening in your mind. That's how you once explained it to a young boy named Lucas. If it's open, you can project your thoughts as if they're theirs and start the conversation that way. "
Elara nodded slowly, though her skepticism lingered. Triggering someone's emotions seemed easier said than done.
Suddenly, the distant thunder of hooves shattered their conversation. Elara shot to her feet, her hand instinctively tightening around the hilt of the sword. Morgana and Volkov rushed toward her, their expressions grim.
Elara lifted her blade, ready to defend Given at any cost. But before she could take a step forward, Volkov was there, moving faster than she could register. With a deft motion, he plucked the sword from her grasp.
"Don't worry, Your Majesty," he said, retreating several paces to stand by the tree. His tone was maddeningly calm. "I'll handle them. And soon enough, you'll remember where you left your own sword."
Elara's irritation flared, her frustration mounting. But her retort died on her lips when she recognized the riders approaching.
Lord Sol, Lord Elliot, and another figure—familiar but shadowed by time—came into view, their horses slowing as they neared. Behind them rode two more figures, equally familiar: Nancy and… Darius.
Elara's breath hitched. Her eyes locked on Darius, following his every movement. Behind her, Given stirred, struggling to sit up. She and Morgana rushed to his side, steadying him between them.
A carriage rumbled into view, following the riders.The coachman, his presence striking a chord in her memory, drew her attention. Leroy—a familiar face tied to distinct memories she couldn't yet fully grasp. Her heart thudded in her chest as memories threatened to surface.
Elara's focus snapped away from Leroy and landed on Darius, who had just dismounted from his pristine white stallion. His dark attire bore streaks of blood, a grim reminder of the chaos they had escaped, yet the horse's pristine coat was untouched. Elara frowned at the peculiar detail, her mind tugging at an elusive memory that refused to come fully into focus.
Her thoughts were interrupted as every gaze in the group shifted toward her. Then, in unison, they all bowed. "Your Majesty."
The unfamiliar man who had ridden with Nancy assisted her handmaid from the horse. His movements were deliberate, his head bowing low as he turned to acknowledge Elara. Nancy mirrored his gesture, her eyes lowering in respect.
"I'm glad to see you in one piece," Lord Sol said, approaching her with a warm smile. His tone was warm - everyone seemed normal , but Elara couldn't shake the discomfort creeping over her for reasons she couldn't explain.
She simply nodded in acknowledgment, trying to mask the unease she felt in the pit of her stomach. Her gaze lingered on the man longer than it should have, her mind racing. She felt an odd pull, as if she should know him, as if his face stirred something deep inside her. Something familiar—but fleeting. A shadow of recognition flitted through her thoughts, yet she couldn't quite grasp it, couldn't quite place where or when she might have seen him before.
She stared, watching his every movement, hoping that the memory would resurface, but it never fully did. The sense of knowing him, of something significant lingering just beneath the surface, gnawed at her.
*"Don't rush it ."*
The words filled her mind suddenly, deep and resonant. Elara turned sharply, her heart skipping. It wasn't Given's voice; she knew that instantly. It was Darius. Their eyes met across the space between them, holding for a long, charged moment before Lord Elliot's voice cut through the silence.
"I have to return to the town," Elliot said, stepping forward. His tone was steady, but his posture betrayed the urgency of his intent. "There's something important I need to retrieve."
"But it's not safe," Leroy called down from the carriage, "You'll be killed before you even reach your manor ."
Elliot turned slightly, his gaze steady. "I know secret passages. I'll be fine. What I'm retrieving is of utmost importance , Your Majesty." His final words were directed at Elara, who hesitated, unsure what response was expected of her.
The question churned in her mind. 'Were they all expecting her to start giving orders now? After being excluded from all the plans until this moment?'
"I'll go with him," Lord Sol interjected, his voice calm but firm. "I'll ensure no one follows him. We'll meet at the tower." With a bow to Elara, he turned to leave, following Elliot into the shadows.
The void they left behind was quickly filled by Darius, whose towering presence loomed beside Elara like an overprotective shield.
"We need to move," Lord Volkov said abruptly, climbing into the carriage. He settled beside Leroy, whose expression twisted into one of barely concealed irritation. "Before they scatter their forces across the kingdom and begin searching for us."
"What tower?" Elara demanded, her voice sharper than she intended. "Where are we going?"
Her question was met with silence until Morgana stepped forward. "Your Majesty, allow me to take Given to the carriage so he can rest."
"No." Elara tightened her hold on Given, her resolve hardening. "We're not going anywhere until someone tells me what's happening."
Darius was the first to respond, his voice quiet yet commanding. "I'll tell you all about it , just not here. Not now."
It was Volkov, however, who answered her question. "We're heading to the tower, Your Majesty, where the lords have gathered. Princess Lyric is injured, and Princess Evelyn has fallen under a witch's trance, causing a massacre. We need your cooperation to save those caught in this war."
Leroy, seated beside Volkov, had his own thoughts about those caught in a war that wasn't theirs. 'They are definitely involved too,' Leroy thought to himself, though he kept it to himself as the others remained focused on the task at hand.
Elara hesitated, her gaze shifting to Given. His face was pale, his breaths shallow. Reluctantly, she loosened her grip, allowing Morgana to guide him toward the carriage.
"You'll ride with me," Darius said, stepping closer. His tone was calm, but the authority in his voice was unmistakable. "As your head guard, I need to ensure your safety."
His words weren't a request—they were a command. Elara bristled at the realization. Was he mocking her? Or using her own words against her? But what did he stand to gain by keeping her so close?