Page 17 of A Storm of Fire and Ash
“Eryndor can only help you with so much with your magic. She will train you to make you more physically strong, since you are lacking in that department…” He sighed, “I will take care of the rest when I return. This is the only place you can be since you burned your house down,” he said a little too aggressively for my taste.
His words made my heart sink, and a tear fell down my face.
Could he hear my thoughts? No... impossible.
Fucking asshole.
“I shouldn’t have said that. I meant, you are safe here as long as you stay with Eryndor and don’t tell the Prince you are Royal Fae.”
“What am I going to do here?!” I exclaimed, frustration bubbling over as I began to pace anxiously across the marble floor, each step echoing like a drumbeat in the vast chamber. The walls felt like they were closing in, the pressure mounting by the second.
“That isn’t my concern!” Zayn snapped, his voice sharp enough to cut through bone. He raked his fingers through his long silver hair with an irritated groan, barely sparing me a glance. “You think I have time to coddle you right now?”
His tone hit harder than a slap.
Gods, he was a dick.
“Just, take a damn breath,” Zayn urged, his voice steady and calm amidst my growing agitation. “The Prince will ensure he finds a suitable role here for you, something to cloak your presence so no one questions what you are doing here and who you are. Each week, new faces arrive at the palace, filled with diverse tasks, so you needn’t worry about that. You simply need to stay out of trouble—keep your true nature a secret, and trust only my guards. Do you understand?”
Sounds to me like I’m just going to be a burden…maybe I should go live with Landen and his mother instead.
I swear I heard a low grumble from Zayn’s chest, but then afirm knock resounded against the heavy door, drawing both of our gazes. It swung open to reveal a striking woman clad in armor that accentuated rather than concealed her form. Unlike the typical bulky men’s armor, hers was specially tailored, featuring a beautifully crafted breastplate adorned with intricate gold filigree that enhanced her figure in an unexpectedly feminine way.
Her lavender hair caught the soft light, buzzed on one side, and cascaded down in a thick braid on the other, framing her face perfectly. The honeyed complexion of her skin glowed with an otherworldly radiance, making her appear both regal and fierce.
“Eryndor,” Zayn said softly, inclination in his voice as he met her gaze with a respectful nod. She returned the gesture, her lavender hair falling slightly over her face in an intimate dance. “I have to go; I should be back in a few weeks,” he added, approaching her. He closed the distance, pressing his forehead gently against hers, as if this simple act could bridge the gap of their impending separation.
The world around them seemed to fade, leaving only an unspoken connection —a delicate exchange of profound emotions.
A weight had settled in my chest, an unwelcome guest of jealousy wrapping its fingers around my heart. They shared no more words; their silence brimmed with unexpressed feelings. She nodded once more, and he turned, walking out the door with purposeful strides, not casting a glance back in my direction. Just like that, he was gone... without a single goodbye. Why had that seemed to bother me?
“Don’t worry about him. He can be a dick sometimes,” she had said with a gentle smile, attempting to dispel the tension in the air. “I’m Eryndor Swift, but please, call me Eryn.”
“H-hi... I’m Elara, but I guess you already knew that...” I had stammered, feeling my cheeks warm as my awkwardness consumed me. I fiddled nervously with my thumbs, lost in a swirl of insecurity, feeling like a fish out of water in that new and unfamiliar setting.
“The prince will be here soon,” Eryn had continued, her tone shifting to one of anticipation. “Once he learned what happened a few days ago and that you were here, hewanted to come right away. But Zayn wouldn’t let him.” Her words had hung in the air.
“A few days ago? How long have I been asleep for?” I asked, my voice thick with confusion as I struggled to process Eryn’s words. The bewilderment must have shown on my face, mirroring the swirl of emotions churning within me.
Eryn’s lips curled into a playful smirk, her silver eyes sparkling. “I figured Zayn would have told you. Typical men,” she had teased lightly, attempting to alleviate the weight of the moment. “You’ve been asleep for three days. It’s quite normal after your magic has been cooped up for so long. Believe me, it can take a toll on a person.”
She stepped closer to me, her movements graceful as she reached up to unloop a bag that had been slung over her shoulder. “Here, I brought you some clothes. Nothing fancy, but it’ll do for now.” She handed me the bag, the fabric rustling softly as it settled into my arms. “Feel free to treat Zayn’s room as your own—because it is yours now that he’s gone.”
As I grasped the bag, a flicker of discomfort washed over me.
“Thanks...,” I murmured, glancing around the room and noticing how little it lacked Zayn’s belongings. The idea of staying in his room, saturated with memories that were not my own, made my skin prickle. “I could, um, stay somewhere else. I really shouldn’t be here. I don’t belong here...”
Eryn let out a soft laugh, shaking her head in understanding. “Ah, Zayn anticipated you would say that. Girl, trust me, I don’t belong here either. I came here with Zayn and two others a few years back. Zayn had received a message whispered to him by the goddess about some prophecy and war, which compelled us to leave the Fae landsand come to Irongate—but he refused to tell us what was said.”
“There are others here... like us?” I asked her.
Eryn nodded enthusiastically, her vibrant silver eyes sparkling with mischief. “Yup! Gavrin and Makar. You’ll meet them eventually.” She leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial tone. “Makar is a Worlock, and Gavrin is a Non-Royal Fae warrior. They stay close to King Aymon as guards, but you can trust them too... they are loyal to Zayn as I am, since he is of Royal blood.”
A flicker of curiosity ignited within me at the mention of Makar, for I had never encountered a Worlock before. Yet, despite my intrigue, only one question slipped from my lips: “Zayn is Royal Fae?”
A shadow of hesitation crossed Eryn’s face. “Ah, I shouldn’t have said that… Why don’t you wash up and change out of Zayn’s clothes? I doubt the prince will appreciate seeing you in those, since he seems to have a thing for you,” she suggested, her gaze sweeping over me critically before settling on the oversized tunic that draped awkwardly on my frame.
Good gods... did Zayn put these on me?
