Page 16 of Crown of Ellova: Vol 1

“WHAT?!” Leon bellows at the incoming guards through the door, his arms still around me.

“The…the king,” one stammers, voice slightly muffled, “he isn’t well.”

Leon presses his forehead down to mine and mutters under his breath to me, “Obviously not. He’s fucking ancient.”

I cannot help but giggle at that.

He yells back to the guards, “I’ll be there shortly.”

Their footsteps fade away. We spend our final seconds together staring at each other, leaving so much unsaid.

Finally, we pull apart. I move deeper into the balcony shadows, and when Leon is certain I will not be seen, he opens the door but turns back for one last moment with me. “You look beautiful tonight,” he says before walking back into the hall.

I take a few deep breaths and attempt to ignore the misery forging itself inside my chest before I walk through the side halls, desperate to leave Adreania and never return to this horrid castle.

The servants’ hallway running parallel to the ballroom is crammed with castle staff working into the night. Almost at the end, I see Theodore and Clive, who are standing with a group of bored soldiers. They rise to attention when they see me. I’m too distracted to pay attention, and with the burning in my eyesclouding my vision, I collide with someone. The young woman’s metal serving tray loudly meets the floor. Her hands fly to her mouth, eyes wide in horror when she sees my sash.

“I’m so sorry, my lady. I’m so terribly sorry. This is all my fault.” She whimpers and now I am not the only one holding back tears.

She drops to the floor, head bent, her cheeks a bright red as she tries to clean up the spilled food. Kneeling to assist her only seems to fluster her more.

“No, no, my lady, let me.” She shakes her head furiously, which loosens the twisted bun of the same reddish-gold hair color as mine, a rare shade here. She is shorter than I am, with a leanness to her figure that tells me that in a castle full of food, even the scraps are out of reach. More servants rush to help her, Theodore and Clive close behind. With the small army of servants who have appeared to help clean up, the overwhelming urge to return to Nueena overtakes the desire to offer my unwanted help.

“I wish to depart.” Not bothering to wait for Theodore and Clive, I start walking towards the main gates, refusing to be delayed any longer for the carriage to be brought. They chase after me; their armor that has never seen battle clamors as they run to keep up. Once they reach me, they flank either side.

“My lady, the carriage will be brought around as soon as possible,” Theodore pleads, breaking the rule not to speak with me. Guilt slips in; if anything happens to me, they will be held responsible.

“No need. I have nothing left to sell and no one would dare rob me. Let’s go.” They look at each other but follow me for the short journey back. The streets are quiet, and finally, I reach the shop. Turning to face them, I give a fake smile. “Thank you for the escort. I bid you a good night.” My tone is harsh, hoping it discourages any further conversation.

Clive nods at my dismissal, but Theodore looks concerned and continues to break the rule of not engaging me in conversation.

“Are you sure you are all right?” Theodore whispers.

“Yes, thank you, just tired from the excitement.”

They both nod knowingly, looking convinced, and I fight not to roll my eyes at how quickly men assume the weakness of women.

I slam the door shut and turn around. Once the front door is locked, I lean my back against it so I do not collapse. The rush of panic slowly eases, leaving only a desperate need to lie down. My soul aches at leaving Leon. The only solace is the rising bittersweet relief that now I no longer need to live Arra’s life, but never seeing him again seems like too great a cost.

CHAPTER 7

My chest tightens and I try not to think of Leon as I change into a plain black dress with a black cloak behind the dressing partition. Stepping out of the green gown, I roll it up and hide the sash within it. The lone jewelry shop candle is gone in a breath and I race out the back door after ensuring no one has followed me from the castle.

The moonlit walk back is quiet in the midnight hours, allowing me to move swiftly to Beggars’ Row. I reach into my satchel and I pull out the small bags of coins.

Making my way to the first house, I leave the provision coins on their window. Each bag is grabbed quickly, never there longer than a few seconds. The only sound is the slight echo of my heels and the chorus of whisperedthank yous that follows me down to each shelter.

Home after home and family after family are given back the courtier’s wealth. Halfway down the street, the smallest of the homes leans at an odd angle, its window broken, the icy air slithering in. An elderly woman stares out of it. Our eyes meet and I place two bags near the large, jagged crack in the glass.

“A little extra to repair your window,” I say lowly so no others can hear.

Her pale hand, covered in age spots, reaches out for mine. She does not seek more coins, just a soft squeeze to my fingers in silent gratitude. Before I leave, I give her my gloves and cloak.

I’m shivering by the time all the coins have been passed out, save for Cyanna’s full bag. Passing her broken fence leading into the desolate yard brings a shred of relief. The moment my knuckles rake against the rotted wood on the last of the three knocks, the signal to declare who I am, the door swings open and Cyanna shoots like an arrow into my arms. She pulls back just enough to look down at me before pulling us together again. “Why are you late?’’ she demands, her eyes red-rimmed.

“I’m sorry. I got caught up at the castle.”

She shuts the door behind us, locking out the cold. Her home is quiet; all of the children are sleeping peacefully, most sprawled out in the living room. I hand her the few pieces of jewelry I have left and the rest of the coins I’ve saved for her.

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