Chapter 54
The hall was quiet, the hush of the evening settling like a shroud over the stone walls. Elias walked with a hurried stride, his boots barely making sound against the cold floor. Behind him, Caven followed in silence, keeping pace though saying nothing.
As they turned a corner, Caven suddenly stopped and pulled him into an empty corridor, out of sight from the passing guards and servants. The air there was still, heavy with something unspoken.
"What is it?" Caven asked, his voice low, worried.
Elias said nothing.
Caven stepped closer, lifting his hands to cup Elias's face, to anchor him—but before his fingers could touch, Elias moved away, his head jerking to the side like he couldn't bear the closeness.
Caven's hands hung in the air for a breath before they dropped, slowly. His brows furrowed. "Elias… what is it?"
Still, no answer came. Elias only paced, back and forth like something caged.
"Is it what Jasmine said? You can't even talk to me now?" Caven asked gently, inching closer.
But Elias shoved his hand away. "Can't you just stop?" he snapped. "Stop invading my space, my thoughts—my life!"
Caven flinched, confused. "I'm trying to help you."
"You know what your problem is, Caven?" Elias spat, turning on him. "You think you're special. You think you're the answer to every broken thing. But you're not. You're nothing."
Caven's lips parted, but no words came. His breath caught as Elias continued, voice colder, harsher.
"You're nothing but a burden—to me, to everyone around you."
The words hit harder than a blow. Caven stared at him, stunned, eyes shining. His mouth trembled before he whispered, "I'm sorry… for being useless."
His head lowered as he turned away, and Elias stood frozen, the silence stretching between them like a canyon. He felt the words echoing in his own mind—hollow, cruel, and wrong.
"Caven—" he started, reaching—
But Caven didn't stop. He walked away, shoulders drawn tight. Elias watched him go, heart thudding hard in his chest, yet he did not move. He did not call after him.
He just watched.
Only when Caven vanished from sight did Elias turn, and with a snarl of frustration, he slammed his fist against the stone wall. Pain shot through his hand, but it did not dull the ache inside.
He didn't know why he'd said those things. Perhaps it was Jasmine's voice still echoing in his mind, or the sick fear that Alistair had let him go, truly and fully. Or maybe it was something deeper—something bitter, something frightened.
But whatever it was, it had made him hurt the one person who stayed.
And now… he had no idea how to fix it.
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The late afternoon sun stretched long shadows over the quiet field, where Alissa lay beside Adam upon the soft grass, the wind brushing gently through her hair. Her eyes were on the sky, its pale blue hue speckled with clouds drifting like thoughts.
"I do not know what comes after," she murmured.
Adam turned to her, watching the soft worry in her face. "What is it you love to do?" he asked, his voice low, not to disturb the peace around them.
She turned her head slightly, meeting his gaze. "I like to help people," she said. "To ease their troubles when I can."
"Then do that," Adam said simply, brushing a stray lock of hair from her brow. "Do what brings you peace."
A small smile touched her lips at his words, and she leaned closer. "I've made a decision," she said. "I will speak to my father and to Alistair. About us."
Adam sat upright at once, his eyes wide with concern. "Are you certain?"
"Yes," she answered without pause. Then, she asked, "Would you marry me, Adam?"
His breath caught as he looked into her eyes. "Yes," he said.
"But—" he began softly, and before he opened his mouth to continue, she cut in, "You're afraid."
He lowered his gaze, fingers curling slightly into the grass. "I fear they may not find me worthy of you. That I'm no one—just a common man."
Alissa took his hand, her fingers warm around his. "No other man is more worthy than you. And you're not 'no one'. You are the son of General Grendy, a man respected by all in Valla. But more than that—you are Adam. My Adam. My father trusts you, else he would not have given you place beside him in council. And Alistair—he adores you like a brother. They will accept us. Trust me."
Adam could not speak. He only smiled, the kind that reached his eyes, and slowly pulled her toward him by her neck—not harshly, only enough to close the space between them. Their lips met in a kiss, soft and full of quiet promises.
A sudden cough broke the moment.
They pulled apart at once, looking up. General Grendy stood not far off, arms crossed, his face unreadable.
Alissa rose gracefully, brushing the grass from her gown. "General," she greeted with a smile, "It's a fine evening."
"Lady Alissa," Grendy replied with a nod, his tone polite, eyes briefly softening. She gave a small wave, then turned and walked away, casting one last glance at Adam.
The moment she was out of earshot, the general's gaze turned to his son.
"Shouldn't you be at the palace?"
"I needed a bit of rest," Adam replied calmly.
"Ever since Alissa returned, you've been slack in your duties," Grendy said, stepping closer. "I've labored to carve a place for you at court, to shield you from what comes with power. Alissa is not the right path for you."
Adam said nothing. His jaw tightened, and he turned away.
Grendy watched him go, a deep furrow between his brows, worry written plain across his face. His son was slipping beyond the reach of careful plans, led by love toward a storm yet unseen.