4. Returning to Elden

Yvaine's POV

“I, Yvaine, refuse to take Xavier Volkov as my husband.”

I left out the surname De Luca on purpose. I hated that name and the man who forced it on me.

Murmurs exploded across the room.

Xavier stepped closer, his voice low and dangerous. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

I raised the microphone and pressed it against his throat, stopping him from coming any nearer.

“Dead sure.”

I brought my hand to my mouth, pulled the ring off with my teeth, and spat it straight at his face.

“Yvaine!”

My father’s roar cut through the hall like a blade, causing the entire room to fall into dead silence.

I turned toward Nikolai De Luca. If looks could kill, I would already be on my way to hell. No, I do not deserve heaven, not after everything I had done these past three years since I entered his world.

Still, the twisted, furious expression on his face was deeply satisfying.

A small part of me trembled at the thought of what he would do for this public humiliation.

But he should have kept his promise.

Or better yet… he should never have found me in the first place.

I dropped the microphone. The sharp sound echoed through the silent hall as I turned and walked down the aisle, white dress trailing behind me, my heart slamming hard against my ribs.

I didn’t look back, not even once.

It was high time I returned to where I belonged.

My hand hit the exit doors and shoved them open. Cold night air rushed over my face as I stepped out of the hotel. The sky was overcast, the kind of heavy gray that promised rain but hadn’t started yet. 

Behind me I could already hear raised voices and the sound of footsteps coming after me.

I ran.

The long white dress tangled around my legs, and my heels slowed me down with every step. 

Halfway down the front steps I stopped, yanked both shoes off, and shoved them into the hands of a startled young woman walking past.

“You can have them.”

She stared at me, mouth open, holding the expensive heels like they might explode. I didn’t wait for a reply.

“Much better,” I muttered, and kept running barefoot across the cold pavement.

My heart was slamming against my ribs. Part of me still couldn’t believe I had actually done it. I had stood in front of all those people and refused. The look on my father’s face flashed through my mind and sent a fresh wave of fear down my spine. He would not forgive this. Not in this lifetime.

A cab screeched to a halt just in time to avoid hitting me as I ran into the streets. The old driver leaned out the window, face red.

“Are you crazy, girl?!”

I circled the car and climbed into the back seat before he could drive off.

“Please. Just drive.”

He turned halfway around, taking in the white dress, the bare feet, the wild look I must have been wearing. His expression softened with confusion and concern.

“You in some kind of trouble, miss?”

I met his eyes in the rearview mirror and let my voice shake just enough.

“My grandmother is dying. They were forcing me to marry a man I don’t love while she’s alone in the hospital. I just… I need to get to her before it’s too late.”

The old man stared at me for a second longer, then nodded once with a serious face.

“Hold on.”

He put the car in gear and pulled into traffic faster than I expected. I twisted around to look through the back window. Several black-suited guards were already spilling out of the hotel entrance, scanning the street. One of them pointed toward us. The cab turned a corner hard, and a few moments later they disappeared from sight.

I knew it wouldn’t last. Nikolai’s men were thorough. The chase was only beginning.

The drive to the bus terminal took almost thirty minutes. Every time headlights appeared behind us my stomach clenched. When the cab finally stopped, I pushed a crumpled handful of money at the driver and ran inside without waiting for change.

The terminal was half empty and smelled of old oil and cigarette smoke. I grabbed the first person I saw.

“The bus to Elden Village. Has it left?”

The man pointed toward the exit. “Just pulled out. Gate three.”

I didn’t thank him. I spun around and sprinted back outside.

The bus was already moving, picking up speed as it headed toward the main road. I ran after it, bare feet slapping against the road and my white dress flying behind me. My lungs burned. Someone inside must have seen me because a few faces appeared at the windows. The bus slowed at the intersection, and I slammed my palm against the side repeatedly until the doors hissed open.

I climbed on, chest heaving and breathing hard.

Every passenger turned to stare like a celebrity climbed on a stage. A runaway bride with tangled hair, bare feet, and a ruined dress wasn't something you see everyday. Whispers started immediately. I ignored them all and dropped into the first empty seat by the window.

My hands were shaking visibly. I pressed them together in my lap and stared out at the dark road as the bus pulled forward again.

I had nothing on me. No plan beyond getting back to the village. For the first time in three years, the decision had been mine.

I leaned my forehead against the cool glass and closed my eyes.

I just want to get home. Everything else can wait.

…

The bus stopped just after sunrise. I stepped down onto the dusty road, the ruined white dress hanging heavy on me, my feet were badly cut and all dirty. From there I had to take a small boat across the narrow river that separated the main road from the village. The water was calm and gray. I sat at the front, my arms wrapped around myself as I watched the familiar trees come closer.

Home.

The path to the house felt longer than I remembered. When it finally came into view, my steps slowed.

The plants around the porch were dead. Brown, brittle, collapsed in on themselves. Grandma never let anything die on her watch. She talked to the plants like they were children. The sight of them made something cold settle in my stomach.

I went straight to the clay pot beside the door and tipped it carefully. The spare key wasn’t there. It had always been there.

I pushed the door, and it opened with a low creak.

“Grandma?”

Dust floated in the shafts of morning light. Cobwebs stretched across the corners of the ceiling. The air smelled closed-in and unused. I walked through the small sitting room, then the kitchen. Everything was still in its place, but wrong. It was too quiet. Too still.

I left the house and went toward the farm, telling myself she must be there. She was always there at this hour.

Other people were working the rows. Faces I barely recognized. I stopped at the edge of the field, heart beating too fast against my ribcage.

“Grandma?” My voice came out thin. “Grandma… Yvaine is here.”

A few heads turned. Someone muttered something I didn’t catch.

“Yvaine?”

I spun around at the familiar call of my name.

Aunt Nina stood a few paces away, basket and sickle still in her hands. My mother’s old friend. She looked just like the last time I saw her, the same kind eyes.

“Aunt Nina-”

She dropped everything in her hands and pulled me into a hug so tight, I could feel her body shaking.

“Oh, child… oh, dear child.” She pulled back, hands on my face, eyes wet. She wiped a streak of dirt from my cheek with her thumb. “What happened to you? Look at the state of you.”

“Long story,” I said. My voice didn’t sound like mine. “I’ll tell you later. Where’s Grandma?”

The workers nearby went quiet. One woman leaned toward another and whispered, “She doesn’t know?”

An older woman chewing on a bitter green leaf shook her head and muttered, “All that care and doting, and this is how the girl comes back…”

I looked at Nina. “What don’t I know?”