LOGIN{Eighteen Months Later…}༺ ELARA ༻“Miss Thompson, the eastern translation is wrong.”I looked up from the manuscript in front of me.Across the table, Master Archivist Bellamy stood with a document in one hand and an expression that suggested he had personally taken offence at the entire matter.“Which eastern translation?”“The one you approved last week.”“Then I assure you, Master Bellamy, it was correct last week.”“It is not correct now.”I frowned and held out my hand. “Let me see.”He passed me the document.I read the disputed passage once, then again, my finger following the lines of the old script. The original manuscript had been recovered from a private collection only a fortnight earlier, and its translation had already caused enough disagreement among the scholars to occupy three separate meetings.I had argued that the existing interpretation was too narrow. Bellamy had argued that I was assigning meanings to a phrase that simply wasn’t there.Apparently, we were still
༺ DARREN ༻ The tavern was already crowded when we arrived. The owner knew better than to make a fuss when the King’s four most trusted men walked through his door. He simply gestured towards the private table at the back. The place was warm, loud and thick with the scent of spiced wine, roasting meat and perfume. Music spilled from the raised platform, where a woman in a low-cut dress sang to a room full of men who were doing a poor job of pretending to listen. There were women everywhere. Some had come with their husbands, others with friends, and a fair number had arrived alone. Fine dresses, bare shoulders, jewellery catching the firelight. Laughter rose above the music. A couple near the hearth were already kissing with little regard for the people around them. We attracted attention. Coin and position had their advantages, and none of us was particularly short of either. Zophyr seemed immediately at home. He pulled out a chair and settled into it with a satisfied sig
༺ DARREN ༻ The boy was going to lose an eye. I saw it a second before the blade came down. “Move!” The command barely left my mouth before I crossed the yard. I caught the younger guard by the back of his tunic and hauled him sideways. The sword struck the ground where his head had been. He stumbled backward, crashing into my chest and nearly taking us both down in the mud. The sparring ring went quiet. Then Haden swore. “Are you trying to get yourself killed, you stupid fucking bastard?” The boy went pale, his chest heaving under his mail as he stared down at the dirt. He couldn’t have been more than nineteen, wired with all the jittery, misplaced confidence of a recruit who hadn't yet learned how fast a practice drill could turn into a real funeral. I shoved him back to his own two feet and let go of his collar. “Name.” “Edric, Beta,” he choked out. “Look at me, Edric.” His wide, terrified eyes snapped to mine. “Why did you drop your left flank?” His gaze flicked ner
༺ ELARA ༻ “Push, Elara.” I shook my head, tired to my bones. Tears and sweat streamed down my face. My hair was matted to my temples. My throat was raw, my legs shaking, and I could no longer remember how long I’d been lying in that bed. My body was struggling to give birth to the child it had been carrying for the past nine months. “I can’t.” “Yes, you can, child. One more time.” Magistra Willa’s voice was gentle but firm. She stood beside the bed, her sleeves rolled to her elbows, watching me with the calm concentration of someone who had attended countless births. Her assistant moved around the room, changing the cloths in the basin and making sure everything was ready. I clutched the sheets beneath me. “I can’t do this anymore.” “You’re nearly there,” Willa assured me. “Your little girl is nearly here. I can see her head.” My little girl. Even through the unimaginable pain coursing through me, those words filled me with joy. Another contraction gathered low in my belly
༺ ELARA ༻ I turned away from the window, embarrassed by the absurdity of crying over a decision I had made myself. By the time the carriage turned onto our street, my cheeks were damp and my eyes were sore. I took a moment to compose myself, pressing the handkerchief beneath my eyes and carefully wiping away the traces of tears. I had another important thing to settle tonight. The house was quiet when I entered. I handed my shawl to the waiting housekeeper and was about to ask whether Father had retired when I heard his voice coming from the study. “I have told you already. I will not have this conversation again.” I stopped. A woman answered, but her words were too low for me to make out. “That is not what I said.” Another pause. Then Father spoke again, louder. “You had years. Years in which you could have made a different choice. You should have thought of all that before you decided to be selfish.” I stared towards the study door. I had never heard him speak like that
༺ ELARA ༻ Hiding a pregnancy was surprisingly one of the easiest things I’d ever done. Getting dressed for dinner, however, was becoming a different matter. I stood before the looking glass, attempting to fasten the last button of my dress. It refused to cooperate. I pulled the fabric together and tried again, holding my breath as though that might somehow make a difference. The button slipped through my fingers. “Oh, for goodness’ sake.” I let the dress fall open. My waist had thickened. Not enough to make my condition obvious to anyone who wasn’t looking for it, but enough that some of my dresses had become uncomfortable. My breasts were heavier, too, and my appetite had developed a rather inconvenient habit of appearing at all hours. I reached for the blue dress hanging over the back of the chair and changed into it. The fabric fell comfortably around my middle. I fastened the buttons and adjusted the sleeves. I turned sideways as I studied my reflection again.







