Chapter Four: The Room That Never Changed

After breakfast, Lyra insisted on showing me to my room.

Not because I needed directions.

But because she apparently had three months' worth of conversations she intended to have immediately.

"And then Cassian nearly threw Lord Halloway into the fountain."

I blinked.

"He did what?"

Lyra grinned.

"The man insulted Silas."

That explained everything.

We walked through the familiar corridors of Ashthorne Keep, sunlight spilling through towering windows and painting silver patterns across the dark stone floors.

Everything felt the same.

The scent of old books.

The distant crash of waves against the cliffs.

The occasional laughter of servants.

For months, I'd convinced myself I could leave this place behind.

Now I realized how impossible that had always been.

This castle wasn't simply a home.

It was part of me.

As we turned a corner, Lyra suddenly stopped.

Her smile softened.

"Ready?"

I frowned.

"For what?"

Instead of answering, she pushed open a wooden door.

I stepped inside.

And froze.

The room looked exactly the same.

Exactly.

The cream-colored curtains.

The bookshelf beside the fireplace.

The writing desk overlooking the sea.

Even the silver blanket folded neatly across the bed.

Nothing had changed.

Not a single thing.

My chest tightened painfully.

Three months.

I had been gone for three months.

Yet it looked as though I'd left yesterday.

Slowly, I crossed the room.

My fingertips brushed across the desk.

The books.

The window frame.

Everything remained untouched.

Preserved.

Waiting.

For me.

Behind me, Lyra remained unusually quiet.

I turned toward her.

"Why?"

Her expression turned confused.

"Why what?"

"Why is everything still here?"

For a moment, Lyra simply stared.

Then understanding crossed her face.

"Oh."

She smiled sadly.

"Because Silas wouldn't let anyone move anything."

The words hit harder than they should have.

"What?"

Lyra leaned against the doorway.

"Mother suggested packing a few things away after the first month."

I swallowed.

"And?"

"Silas said no."

A strange ache settled in my chest.

I looked around the room again.

The room he'd protected.

The room he'd kept ready.

Just in case.

Just in case I came home.

Gods.

I sat down on the edge of the bed.

Suddenly overwhelmed.

Lyra crossed the room and dropped beside me.

For a while, neither of us spoke.

Then she nudged my shoulder.

"Guilt?"

I sighed.

"That obvious?"

"Painfully."

A laugh escaped me.

The younger Ashthorne smiled.

"You know something funny?"

"What?"

"Silas always knew you'd come back."

I looked at her sharply.

"What?"

Lyra nodded.

"He never said it out loud."

That sounded like him.

"But every time someone suggested finding another political match..."

Her smile widened.

"He refused."

My heart skipped.

I stared at her.

"Lyra."

"What?"

"Don't."

The teasing immediately disappeared.

My friend studied me carefully.

Then sighed.

"You're still hurting."

It wasn't a question.

I looked toward the window.

Toward the sea.

Toward the endless horizon.

"More than I thought I would."

The admission felt embarrassingly honest.

Lyra's expression softened.

"You loved him."

"Darian."

It felt strange saying his name here.

Like speaking of a bad dream after waking.

I laughed bitterly.

"I left everything for him."

Silence settled between us.

Not uncomfortable.

Just honest.

Finally, Lyra reached over and squeezed my hand.

"Then it's okay to grieve."

The simple kindness nearly broke me.

Because she wasn't angry.

None of them were.

Not Cassian.

Not Seraphine.

Not Elias.

Not even Silas.

I had expected disappointment.

Resentment.

Judgment.

Instead I'd found compassion.

And somehow that hurt more.

A knock sounded at the door.

Lyra immediately brightened.

"Come in."

The door opened.

And Silas stepped inside.

My pulse betrayed me instantly.

Traitor.

His silver eyes moved briefly to Lyra before settling on me.

Checking.

Always checking.

Making sure I was alright.

The realization warmed something deep inside my chest.

"I didn't realize you were busy."

His voice remained calm as always.

Lyra stood immediately.

"I wasn't."

Silas blinked.

The liar.

His sister smiled sweetly.

Then headed for the door.

"I have important healer things to do."

"You aren't a healer today."

"I am now."

The door shut behind her before either of us could stop her.

Silence followed.

Dangerous silence.

Not because anything was wrong.

Because suddenly it was just us.

For the first time since I'd returned.

Silas shifted slightly.

Then held out a small wooden box.

"I found this."

I accepted it carefully.

The wood looked familiar.

Very familiar.

When I opened it, my breath caught.

Inside rested a collection of seashells.

Old.

Worn smooth by time.

Memories crashed into me immediately.

We had collected them together.

Years ago.

During a summer spent exploring hidden beaches beneath the cliffs.

I stared.

Unable to speak.

"You kept these?"

Silas looked confused.

"Of course."

Of course.

As though the answer should be obvious.

As though keeping treasures from childhood adventures was completely normal.

I laughed softly.

"You never throw anything away."

A faint smile appeared.

"No."

The silence that followed felt different.

Gentler.

Warmer.

For a moment, it felt like no time had passed at all.

Like we were children again.

Running through castle halls.

Sharing secrets.

Dreaming about futures neither of us understood.

The thought hurt.

Because we weren't children anymore.

And too much had changed.

My gaze dropped to the box.

"Silas."

His expression immediately grew attentive.

"Yes?"

The question lodged in my throat.

What I wanted to ask was impossible.

Why didn't you hate me?

Why did you come for me?

Why did you keep waiting?

Instead I asked something safer.

Something smaller.

"Are you angry?"

The words slipped out before I could stop them.

Silas froze.

For several long seconds, he simply looked at me.

Then he crossed the room.

Slowly.

Carefully.

Like approaching a wounded animal.

Finally, he crouched in front of me.

Silver eyes meeting mine.

"Aurelia."

His voice was quiet.

Steady.

"I was heartbroken."

The honesty stole my breath.

"But angry?"

He shook his head.

"Never."

Tears threatened immediately.

Silas sighed softly.

Almost sadly.

"You chose what you believed would make you happy."

His gaze never left mine.

"I could never be angry about that."

The room blurred.

Because that was the difference.

Darian had wanted destiny.

Silas wanted happiness.

Even if it wasn't with him.

And somehow that realization terrified me more than anything else.

Because for the first time since coming home...

I wasn't sure my heart was breaking anymore.

I was beginning to fear it was healing.

And healing, somehow, felt even more dangerous.