Page 41 of Bound to the Dorm Elf
She hesitates, then asks, “Is that… why you left? Or—” She stops, realizing she’s treading close to ground I’ve left unspoken.
I could let it slide. But tonight, something in me itches to name it. Maybe it’s the moonlight spilling across her desk, making the room quieter somehow. Maybe it’s the way she looks at the runes like they’re not a warning.
“The priests said I dishonored Her,” I tell her. My voice doesn’t rise, but the words weigh enough to still the air. “That my refusal to bow to their commands was blasphemy. They demanded I kneel. I did not.”
Her eyes sharpen. “So they exiled you.”
“They tried to kill me,” I correct. “Exile was… the compromise. They carved my name from the Hall of Records. Burned my crest. Declared me unworthy of Her light.” I drag the cloth over my ribs, wiping away the last trace of blood. “But the runes still answer me. That is what angers them most.”
She’s quiet for a moment, like she’s piecing together what that means. Then: “So they couldn’t take your power.”
“They can try.” I meet her gaze fully now. “But as long as I draw breath, I am Hers.”
For a long moment, she just looks at me. Not with pity — that would make me turn away — but with something steadier.
“I don’t think they realize,” she says softly, “that whatever they threw you out for… it’s probably the thing that’ll keep you alive here.”
I study her face, the way the light catches the edge of her jaw, the determined set of her mouth. “Perhaps,” I say.
But what I don’t add — what I won’t — is that it might also be the thing that destroys me.
I pull the shirt back over my head, the fabric whispering against my skin. The runes vanish beneath it, but the weight of her gaze doesn’t.
“You should be careful,” I tell her, meaning more than she knows.
She smirks faintly, but there’s a flicker in her eyes. “You’ve told me that before.”
“And I will tell you again,” I reply, my tone low, final.
Because the truth is, whether she knows it or not, she’s already standing too close to the kind of power that changes everything it touches.
And I’m not sure I’d stop her if she reached for it again.
The words lingerbetween us like smoke that refuses to clear.
I don’t speak of my past lightly. When I do, it’s usually in the manner of a boast — a recitation of victories, duels won, and rivals bested until they bent knee or bled out.
But now… the air tastes different on my tongue. Bitter, sharp at the edges.
“I commanded the Iron Veyth for seven cycles,” I hear myself say, though no one asked. “We were the blade my House kept hidden until the right moment — and when we were unsheathed, nothing stood.” My voice is steady, but the truth beneath it has teeth.
Skylar doesn’t interrupt. She sits on her bed, legs folded beneath her, one hand curled around that ever-present mug of tea. The steam curls toward her face, but her eyes are on me, unflinching.
“And?” she prompts, not like she’s fishing for gossip, but like she’s holding open a door and waiting to see if I’ll walk through.
I press my palms to my knees, feeling the faint hum of the runes under my skin. “And I thought that made me untouchable.I thought no blade could cut me, no whisper could tarnish my name. But battles are simple. Alliances…” I let out a short, humorless laugh. “Alliances rot from the inside long before the enemy breaches your walls.”
Her brow furrows, but not in the way people do when they want to pounce on weakness. She’s not calculating what advantage my words give her — she’s just… listening to me.
I don’t like how that unsettles me.
“You lost people,” she says quietly. Not a question.
I look at her. At the softness in her voice, the way she says it without the sting of pity. My pride bristles anyway. “Everyone loses people,” I reply. “The difference is how you hold the line after.”
“And you…” She tilts her head, studying me. “You’re still holding it.”
My mouth pulls tight. “Holding it is what put me here, human. Refusing to bend — even when bending would have kept my banner flying — is what cost me everything. My command. My place in Her court. My kin.”
