Chapter 29

Elora’s POV

The first thing I felt was pain. Unfiltered, brutal, everywhere, grinding down through bone and muscle, like I had been chewed up and spat out by something with too many teeth. My arm pulsed where fangs had shredded skin. My ribs were on fire. Even my eyelids hurt. Figure that one out. Moving seemed like an actual joke. I just sort of floated there, somewhere between knocked-out cold and half-awake, pinned under the weight of it.

And then, of course, came the dreams. Like the universe playing a movie for me.

Bright hall. The walls are practically glowing. Gold banners, the whole royal-epic vibe, like someone hired all the angels. Way at the end: the throne, glittering, way too majestic for my taste, honestly. And standing right beside it? Dominic. In full hero pose. Back straight, gleaming armor, jawline deadly enough to cut glass. But his eyes went all soft the second he spotted me. Like I was the answer to a question he wouldn't say out loud.

He held out his hand, palm up, steady as bedrock.

“Elora.” His voice hit like a slow drum, steady, old as time. “Stand with me. Together, we keep this kingdom on its feet. Together, nothing crumbles.”

I stepped forward, and I didn’t feel the pressure already squeezing my shoulders. His hand was warm, real, rock-solid. I could practically smell the duty rolling off him...careful, comforting, heavy as a fur cloak soaked through in rain. Future mapped out, queen, untouchable, necessary, locked into place like a chess piece you never move.

But beneath all that promise was something colder. Chains. I couldn’t see them, but I felt them.

Dream twisted.

And suddenly, screw golden halls, I’m teetering on a windswept cliff, salt wind nearly buckling my knees, sea below going absolutely rabid. Dante was there, of course. Shirt a mess, hair all over the place, alive with storm energy. His eyes lit up, dangerous. If you look at him too long, you might get burned.

When he looked my way, the mask dropped. Pain, craving, fire, raw, nothing hidden.

“You’re mine,” he said. Storm tried to drown him out, but didn’t stand a chance. I felt the words in my bones.

Then he snagged my wrist, yanked me close, didn’t care that the cliff was breaking up under us, didn’t give a damn about anything except holding on. Kissed me with this wild, reckless hunger like letting go was unthinkable. No crowns, no obligation, just fire, burning so hot it almost became a kind of freedom.

Honestly? Terrified me, that kind of losing myself. Some part of me wanted to run, screaming, from the intensity. The other part? Maybe not so much.

Somehow the two visions mashed together: Dominic’s solid hand, Dante’s wild grip. Chains and thrones versus fire and ruin. The strangest part? Ruin never looked so much like freedom.

I am stuck at the dead center. Couldn’t pick. Couldn’t even see which way was out.

Dreams blew apart...shattered.

Woke up gasping, mouth dry, still tasted salt, still felt Dominic’s comfort and Dante’s heat somewhere deep against my skin.

The ceiling above me was made of stone, smooth, draped with pale cloth. A lamp threw weird shadows on the walls. For a second, I thought maybe I had dropped into another loop of the dream, until the pain in my chest and limbs said otherwise.

Slow turn. Neck screamed in protest, bruising enough to paint a whole gallery. Sheets are scratchy and cheap, not the plush ones back in the Queen’s wing. Not my room, not my life. I couldn't decide if it was hilarious or just sad, being a guest in my own damn palace.

Shifted beneath the blankets, pain zinging up my arms purple, blue bruises, neat-as-you-please bandages. My own body felt new, but in a broken-in-the-wrong-way sense, like someone else’s clothes after an accident.

I lay there for a while, watching the ceiling. Existing hurt. Thinking? Even worse.

Dreams had their claws in me. Dominic’s promise. Dante’s burning need. Heart yanked both ways, ready to split.

A soft and careful knock sounded on the door.

“Elora?”

Recognized the voice. Just one of the maids, young, polite, probably scared she had woken me up at the wrong time. “Are you awake, my lady? The healer will be here shortly.”

Nope. Not ready. Words jammed in my throat.

The door clicked shut, and silence settled back in.

Ran my hand over my face, felt the lines, the bruises, caught a sting where a fresh cut sliced across my cheek. Each throb is a little reminder. The rogues in the clearing, claws, teeth, blood where blood shouldn't be. Snapped awake for a second with the vivid memory, Dominic and Dante ripping through the madness to get to me. Fury, desperation, both of them reaching for me like they would rather shatter than let go.

I should feel safe. Should feel grateful, yeah? Instead, just more tangled up. Safe on the outside, chaos everywhere else. Kinda sums up being Elora, doesn’t it?

Dominic looked at me like I already belonged to him. Like I was his favorite secret, tucked away.

Dante’s arms felt like home, honestly. Warm, impossible to leave. How am I even supposed to choose between that?

Truth? I still didn’t have a damn clue what I wanted.

Shifted around on the bed again, a big mistake, apparently, because pain hit me like I owed it money. I made myself sit up though, because, God, I needed to actually feel present. If I lay there much longer, the walls might as well eat me alive.

This room was super bleak. Zero art, not so much as a gilded vase. Just dull stone and a lumpy mattress that squeaked when I breathed on it wrong. Like a prison cell without chains, you know? All they wanted was for me to stick around until my body quit complaining.

Put my hand over my chest right where that glowing tether buzzed, low and stubborn, like it wouldn’t quit even if I begged it.

“I don’t freaking know what I’m supposed to do,” I mumbled, like maybe the dust mites had answers.

So my head thunked back on the pillow and I shut my eyes. Rest tried to drag me under, but sleep was just another war zone. That’s where Dominic and Dante fight for scraps of me, and I...pathetic, put-together-with-chewing-gum me, still can’t figure out which pieces I’m okay losing.