3.The Last Place That Felt Like Hers

Elowen’s

The guest room was too quiet, and every sound from the hallway seemed to travel straight through the walls. 

Footsteps passed occasionally. Doors opened and closed. Somewhere downstairs, servants were still preparing for the Lycan King's arrival.

I turned on my side and stared at the window. I needed somewhere familiar. There was only one place I could think of.

The greenhouse. I slipped out of bed and pulled on a cardigan before leaving the room.

The estate was dim at this hour. I moved through the corridor without turning on the lights, following a path my feet remembered even when everything else felt unfamiliar.

The greenhouse stood behind the eastern wing. I pushed open the door.

Then stopped, the smell was wrong. There were no rows of herbs. No wooden shelves crowded with clay pots. No drying bundles hanging from the ceiling.

Instead, moonlight spilled across polished floors. A grand piano stood where my old worktable had been. Easels leaned against one wall, surrounded by framed paintings.

A small table held brushes, paints, and expensive glass containers.

I stepped inside. Seraphine's room. I knew immediately. I walked farther in, looking around.

The little ceramic pots Mother and I had painted together were gone.

The shelves where we had stored dried lavender, rosemary, wolfsbane, and healing leaves had disappeared.

Even the old wooden chair where Mother used to sit while I sorted herbs had been replaced.

I reached for the edge of the piano. Dust didn't cling to it.

Someone cared for this room. Someone used it. I looked down near the base of an old cabinet, and something small had fallen behind the leg.

I crouched. It was a thin, worn notebook.

My fingers paused over the cover. I recognized it. I pulled it free and opened it. Most of the pages were empty. The remaining ones contained my handwriting from years ago.

Herbs. Their uses. Their effects.

Mother's handwriting appeared beneath some of my notes, correcting measurements or adding warnings.

I turned to another page.

A dried sprig of lavender had been pressed between the paper. I touched it carefully.

I remembered Mother's hands guiding mine as we tied the stems together. Not too tightly, sweetheart.

Her voice came back so clearly that my chest tightened.

I closed my eyes. I had thought I was searching for a room.

I had actually been searching for proof that the life I remembered had existed.

The door opened behind me. I stiffened.

“Elowen?”

Caelan. I stood and closed the notebook.

He entered, then stopped when he saw the room. His eyes moved across the piano. The paintings. The shelves. Then they returned to me.

“What is this?”

I looked at him.

“Seraphine's room.”

His brow furrowed.

“I didn't know they changed it.”

I said nothing. He walked farther inside.

“When did this happen?”

“I don't know.”

“You used to spend all your time here.”

“Yes.”

His gaze fell to the notebook in my hands.

“You kept this?”

“I found it.”

He looked around again. Something shifted in his expression.

Not anger. Not defensiveness. Something quieter.

“You had all of this here?”

I nodded.

“You never noticed?”

His jaw tightened.

“I…”

He stopped.

There was no answer that could make it better. He had lived in this house with me. He had known how much this place meant to me.

And he hadn't even noticed when it disappeared. The door opened again. Seraphine stepped inside. Her eyes immediately landed on the notebook.

“Oh.”

She looked at me.

“I didn't know you were coming here.”

I closed the notebook.

“It's fine.”

She glanced around. Then her face changed.

“I should have asked before they moved your things.”

I shook my head.

“You don't need to.”

“But this was yours.”

“It isn't anymore.”

Her lips parted.

“Elowen, I can move my things somewhere else.”

“You don't have to.”

“I mean it.” She stepped toward me. “If this room means something to you, I'll give it back.”

Caelan looked at her.

“Seraphine..”

“I don't want her to think I took it from her.”

Her voice trembled slightly.

“I never wanted to replace you.”

I looked at her.

She looked genuinely upset. Maybe she was. Maybe she wasn't. I no longer had the energy to figure it out.

“I didn't say you did.”

Seraphine lowered her eyes.

“I know. But I still feel terrible.”

Caelan moved beside her.

“You don't need to feel guilty.”

She looked up at him.

“But… ”

“You didn't do anything wrong.”

I watched them. The room had once belonged to Mother and me. Now even here, the center of everything has shifted.

I tucked the notebook under my arm.

“I'll return it.”

Seraphine frowned.

“You can keep it.”

“No.”

“You should have it.”

I shook my head.

“It's only an old notebook.”

I walked toward the door. Caelan followed.

“Elowen.”

He stopped and looked at me with an expression I couldn't read.

“You don't have to give everything up.”

I looked down at the notebook.

“I didn't come back for my room.”

“Then what do you want?”

“Nothing.”

His eyes narrowed.

“Nothing?”

I nodded.

“I’m staying until Mother is better.”

He seemed relieved by that answer.

“You can stay as long as you need.”

“I won't.”

His expression changed.

“What do you mean?”

“I'll leave after that.”

Caelan stared at me, “You're angry.”

“No.”

“You're hurt.”

I looked at him.

“Maybe.”

“Then don't make a decision like this while you're hurting.”

“I already made it.”

“You don't have anywhere to go.”

“I'll find somewhere.”

“Elowen…” His voice softened, “You're home.”

I looked past him at the greenhouse. At the piano. At the paintings. At the space where my life had once been.

“No,” I said quietly. “I'm not.”

“I didn’t plan to stay in this family forever.”

Caelan's face tightened, “You'll change your mind.”

I met his eyes, “I already changed it.”