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Elianora gave a quiet snort, almost unnoticeable, but I caught the familiar intonation of David.
Two more figures appeared behind him.
The first to enter was a girl. Tall, graceful, as if woven from the fabric of light itself, gliding through the hall. Long silvery-white hair fell over her shoulders, framing her pointed ears, each strand seeming to shimmer in the torchlight. Emerald eyes, cold and bright, swept across the room, stopping on me and Elianora—lingering on her a little longer than courtesy allowed. Her slight, almost imperceptible squint seemed to say: 'And who is this worthless creature…'
— Lady Selina of House Ilvaris, — Caldwell announced, his voice carrying unusual solemnity. — Eldest daughter of an ancient elven line. You once knew her as Rachel Morris.
Something clenched inside my chest. The name hit like someone had yanked a whole heap of bitter memories from my head: her snide remarks in class, the condescending looks from under perfectly done lashes, the quiet giggle with her friends whenever I couldn’t bring myself to speak up in literature class.
Elianora raised her chin slightly, her face still the icy mask of an aristocrat, but I noticed—her fingers gripped the folds of her dress. David remembered her as well as I did.
— Ah… — Selina dipped her head in a measured bow, her voice sounding like taut silver strings. — What a remarkable meeting. Prince Stiveir and… Lady Wortwing. So, who are you really? — her tone suddenly cooled, tinged with either envy or mockery.
She wasn’t speaking to me, though I was a prince and, in some sense, even her possible future husband, given our bloodlines. No, Selina—Rachel—wasn’t looking at me at all. She stared straight at Elianora. Emerald eyes, far too cold for a young girl, burned into her as if stripping her down to the bone.
Elianora—David—remained silent, and in that silence there was more said than any words could carry. I saw the tension in her frame, though she held her posture as if none of this concerned her. For a moment her fingers twitched almost imperceptibly on the armrest of the chair, then went still.
The room suddenly fell into an almost tangible silence, so deep I could hear my own heartbeat. And then—footsteps. Barely audible, yet so heavy that the torches seemed to dim with every step.