Chapter 238

Elara’s POV

The training dummy cracked under my fist.

Splinters flew sideways, catching the morning light before scattering across the packed dirt floor. My knuckles throbbed—raw, split in two places—but the pain felt good. Familiar. The only thing that still registered.

“Instructor?”

Jessica’s voice came from somewhere behind me. Careful. Tentative. The way everyone spoke to me now.

“Reset the dummy,” I said without turning around. “And tell Maya her footwork yesterday was sloppy. I want her running drills before the others arrive.”

“Yes, Instructor.”

Footsteps retreated. I flexed my fingers, watching blood bead along the knuckle of my right hand. I should wrap it. I didn’t.

Six months.

Six months since I’d moved into that cramped and drafty little manor. Six months of an empty routine between the house and the training grounds, wearing the same black training pants, chest wrap, and loose tunic year-round.

Six months of nothing.

Not nothing, exactly. There was routine. Wake. Dress. Train. Eat something tasteless. Train again. Walk home in the dark. Lie in bed staring at a ceiling I didn’t recognize. Sleep—sometimes. Start over.

I existed. That was the most generous description.

The training grounds filled later. Sophie arrived first, already stretching near the weapons rack. Riley followed, yawning, her practice sword slung over one shoulder. Maya came in last, and I watched her eyes dart to the shattered dummy before quickly looking away.

“Pair up,” I called. “Sophie with Riley. Maya, you’re with me.”

Maya’s face went pale. Good.

I aggressively trained them. I didn’t go easy on them. Couldn’t. Going easy meant slowing down, and slowing down meant thinking, and thinking meant—

I blocked Maya’s overhead strike, stepped inside her guard, and swept her legs out from under her. She hit the dirt hard enough to drive the air from her lungs.

“Your shoulder dropped before you swung,” I said, standing over her. “I saw it coming from across the yard. Again.”

She scrambled up. We went again.

And again.

And again.

By the time lunchtime arrived, all three of them were limping. I leaned against a wooden post, barely winded, and watched them huddle near the well. My hands were shaking—not from exertion. From the stillness that crept in whenever I stopped moving. Only hitting the training dummy brought me some fleeting solace.

That was when Kaelen unexpectedly appeared.

He stood at the edge of the training yard. Arms crossed. Dark hair pushed back from his forehead. Those dark gold eyes fixed on me with an expression I refused to read.

I looked away.

He walked over anyway. Of course he did.

“You’re pulling your strikes,” he said quietly. “You were holding back when you sparred with Maya.”

“I’m training students, not killing them.”

I grabbed a cloth and wiped the sweat from my neck. “Is there something you need?”

Silence. The kind that used to make me turn toward him. Now it just made my jaw tighten.

“Seraphine is gone,” he said.

My hand stilled on the cloth.

“She filed for extended leave,” he continued, a genuine bewilderment in his voice. “I’d arranged a severance payment, but she disappeared before it was finalized. No forwarding address. No communication. The Household Department has no record of her current location.”

I folded the cloth into a precise square, unsure if this was the absolute truth or just a convenient lie. “And you’re telling me this because?”

“Because I thought you should know.”

“Noted.” I maintained my guard, letting none of my lingering suspicions show.

Another silence. I could feel him watching me. Waiting for something—a crack, a question, some sign that the wall I’d built had a weak point he could press.

It didn’t.

“The children miss you,” he said. Softer now.

That one landed. It always did.

“I see them three times a week.”

“Valerius asked if you could come for dinner on Friday. He said—” Kaelen paused. “He said he wanted to show you something. He shared the good news that he scored highest marks on his ancient history test.”

“Lyra’s been asking too,” he added. “Every night. ’Is Mama coming to eat with us?’”

I closed my eyes. Behind my lids, I saw Lyra’s face. Round cheeks. Silver hair like mine. Those wide eyes that held nothing but trust. I finally compromised on his request, strictly for the sake of the children.

“Friday,” I said flatly. “Just dinner.”

“Just dinner.”

He left without another word. I turned back to the training dummy and hit it until my knuckles reopened.

—

Friday came too fast.

I stood outside the palace I once called home for five full minutes. The stone facade hadn’t changed. Same carved wolves flanking the doors. Same torchlight flickering in the evening wind.

I pushed the door open.

“Mama!”

Lyra hit me at knee height, her arms wrapping around my legs with a force that nearly buckled them. I dropped to a crouch and pulled her close, pressing my face into her silver hair.

“My little princess,” I whispered. “I missed you.”

“I missed you more!”

I looked up. Kaelen stood in the doorway of the dining room, wearing an apron. His hair was slightly mussed.

He looked almost domestic. Desperately trying to rebuild the warmth of our broken family.

I actively reinforced my emotional walls. I was strictly here for the children.

“Mother.”

Valerius appeared at the top of the stairs. Always watching. He descended slowly, and when he reached me, he didn’t throw himself into my arms. He simply stood close enough that our shoulders nearly touched.

“My little warrior,” I said. “I heard you have something to show me.”

A flicker of pride crossed his face. He shared the good news that he had aced his ancient history test.

“This is extraordinary,” I said, and I meant it. “I’m proud of you.”

He nodded once.

The table was set with four place settings. Creamy chicken over rice was served at the center.

As if this were normal. As if this were us.

We sat. We ate. Lyra talked nonstop. Valerius ate carefully.

Kaelen served the food. He tried his best to create a sense of normalcy for the children.

I watched all of it from behind my wall, refusing to let his hopeful gesture soften my guarded heart.

After dinner, we watched a magic shadow-puppet show. The puppets moved on their own in flickering silhouette. Lyra fell asleep in my lap during the show.

Kaelen looked at me, his eyes softening. “Could you stay and put them to bed?” he asked gently.

I hesitated, reminding myself I was only here for them, but nodded. I carried Lyra to bed. Tucked the blanket under her chin. Smoothed her hair back from her forehead.

“Goodnight, my little princess.”

Valerius was already in his room. I stood in his doorway while he climbed into bed.

“Goodnight, my little warrior.”

“Goodnight, Mother.”

I pulled the door closed.

Kaelen was waiting in the corridor. We shared a tense, wordless moment. The silence stretched—thick, heavy, full of unresolved pain and awkwardness.

I wouldn’t let it break me.

“Goodnight,” I said.

I turned and walked down the corridor, through the entrance, and out into the cold night air, leaving immediately and refusing a full reconciliation.

—

The next morning at the training grounds, all the female trainees were gathered near the weapons room, talking and laughing excitedly. I walked over, smiled at the crowd, and asked, “What’s going on? Did I miss something?”