She'd just wanted to be normal.

To experience Temple and the Ceremony of Lights one more time.

Iliya had managed to overcome every fear and anxiety just to see those lanterns drifting into the night.

She prayed to Aida for the skies to clear, if only to allow her one night of peace and joy.

But now her heart was racing, her hands shaking as she followed after the towering incarnate of Death leading her through the streets of her own city.

Iliya had, of course, noticed Noah Whitecross, the human male blessed by Taranis with Immortality. Three years too young to be the Heir of Nynoli. With him, Jeremy Tattone, second hand to Andrin Chakrine himself. Sorein's closest friends.

Her mouth went dry, realizing what she'd just asked him to do, what she had asked of him personally.

"Sorein..." she whispered.

He grunted, barely peering back to look at her. Sorein glared at the very air they took in, icing the world around them.

Iliya tried again, frowning. "Sorein..."

"What?" he muttered back.

"I'm sorry..."

He stopped moving so quickly that she ran face-first into his back. Gripping her nose, she pulled back to see him staring down at her.

"What for?"

Iliya blinked slowly, averting her gaze as she murmured back, "What everyone witnessed... They know now... They know you associate with me..."

Sorein's eyes narrowed, filtered anger streaming out in a tight, cold sentence. "You think I care what anyone else thinks?" He hissed.

She swallowed roughly but didn't pull away from the closeness, their war of sight. "I don't want your life getting any harder because of-"

"Don't finish that sentence," he snapped, turning away from her. Sorein gripped her by the elbow and began charging forward again, half leading her. "I'll associate with you, if I damn well please."

Iliya fought the tiny smile pulling at her lips, looking at the firm hand he kept gently holding her arm.

She could have sworn his eyes softened ever so slightly at the sight of it.

"Where are we going?" she found herself asking.

Iliya watched as Sorein's brow lifted, as if she could still hear those taunting, sarcastic thoughts. So long as she kept the conversation going, so long as there was no pause, they wouldn't have to address the awkward tension between them.

"Where do you think we're going?"

To be honest with herself, she didn't quite know. He could be leading her in any direction so long as it was straight. She hadn't looked at her surroundings in long enough.

At some point they must have lost his friends because she couldn't see them anywhere.

"Are you taking me back to the estate then?" Iliya offered, still unsure.

His head turned to her. She couldn't quite read the emotions engraved into Sorein's features, she was only aware that he wasn't seething anymore.

Sorein took a long pause before answering her question. "I suppose, if that's what you want."

She thought about it, wondering what she actually wanted. "I don't know..." she whispered back. "I don't really know what I want."

Iliya could sense the ebb and flow of the familiar bond between them. A combination of static electricity and flame shooting back and forth along the cord of energy she sometimes caught glimpses of, flickering.

She sometimes wondered if he felt it too or perhaps even saw it.

Sorein was an enigma, yet he often seemed simple to her. He didn't invest in the fabrications other people made, only the truth. If it could be proven, he'd stand by it, no matter how complicated.

So she knew there was no better choice than honesty with him. He'd take more kindly to the unknown than a lie.

"I'm escorting you to the Ceremony of Lights tonight," he said calmly.

Iliya blinked.

She couldn't tell if the spikes rolling down her spine were bristling at his tone or being forced to endure even more of the outside world. As well as more time with him.

"No you're not," she snapped back.

Sorein's eyes danced with a mischievous light, the steel gray glinting in the sun. "Yes. I am."

Iliya stopped in her tracks, crossing her arms over her chest. She had pulled right out of his grip. "What are you doing? Why are you doing this?"

He kept walking for a moment before pausing.

The way Sorein looked at her made Iliya's heart speed up and ache. His expression was stern, contorted with hints of sadness and concern.

Still stoic and unreadable save for his eyes and the tension in his neck.

Iliya had learned how to pick up on those tiny things, noticing when something annoyed him or if he was amused. She studied him the way she learned Siofra inside and out, memorizing the way different things caused them to react.

The look on his face turned calm and knowing. "Because it's important to you. They'll leave you alone if you're with me."

He was right, of course.

The Prince of Azuris didn't come to Chiori often, but when he did there was a wide berth of space given. He was always polite unless given reason, but it didn't take long for the natives to realize he seldom cared for conversation and would not maintain any direct contact.

Sorein wasn't much for politics, though he kept a watchful eye on them. On the treaties developing between Fae and Therian residents. As for now, Andrin was King of Azuris, guarding the gates to the Afterworld and the Void.

Where the immortals would go to seek rest.

The island bred elite warriors to protect the souls. Sorein was no different, raised and trained by the best.

So when he claimed no one would approach her, Iliya knew it was the truth.

Still, the idea of spending time around their tentative and uncomfortable dance made her question his motives.

"I'll wait outside the Estate an hour before the ceremony begins until it's over," he said, gesturing. "Whether you come out, is up to you."

To Iliya's surprise, they were outside the Estate already, and just beyond the gates she could see Rhydian pacing. She took a deep breath attempting to center herself and met Sorein's gaze.

"Okay," she replied. The idea of his tall looming frame unsettling the guards almost made her smile. Almost. "We'll see."

He nodded to her, stepping aside.

Iliya felt weak in the knees as she walked away from him, unsure of what she just signed up for.

Her cousin, on the other hand, appeared to have many choice words as he stormed forward.

Straight for her.

~ 🔮 ~

Rhydian was the portrait of rage. Iliya overlooked his clad-black training suits with belts and weapons strapped to his pants, ignoring the royal guard's emblem on his short overcoat.

Despite appearing disheveled and out of control, her cousin was the spitting image of authority and grace. Everything she was not.

"What were you thinking, leaving the Estate without telling anyone? Two years you haven't left your room, two years and today is the day you decide to give me a heart attack?" He demands, waving one of his arms. "Are you insane?"

He meant well.

Iliya knew that even if tears threatened to spill down her cheeks.

Rhydian's face dropped, watching her try desperately not to fall apart. "What? What happened?"

She shook her head, pursing her lips and attempting to push past him. He wouldn't allow it, grabbing either of her arms and holding her in front of him.

"What happened?"

Iliya didn't know what to say, shaking her head. Nothing as terrible as the past and yet somehow more cleaving to her soul.

"I just..." she whispered, bracing back the bile in her throat. "I was reminded why I don't leave."

He surveyed her with a growing frown, a new kind of anger sprouting there. The growl simmering in his throat was certainly not friendly. "What happened?"

She knew he hated repeating himself, but Iliya didn't have the words to encapsulate everything she'd just experienced.

"The Lord of Teresii..." she began, watching Rhydian's eyes narrow. "You don't have to worry..."

"What did that rotten carcass want with you?" He seethed.

Iliya thought she could hear his teeth grinding together.

"What everyone wants from me, Rhydian," she snapped back. "To tell me how utterly pathetic and unsavory I am for existing, to ridicule me as if I chose to be born!"

He blinked at her.

Iliya didn't know when she'd started yelling or when her mother had come to stand on the polished marble steps leading inside.

Destry stood there wide-eyed, a hand hovering over her chest.

She looked like she was going to cry.

Iliya twisted and shoved Rhydian away, running into the Estate and far away from the mortified expression painted onto her mother's face.

She didn't blame her mother for having her. Only the world for rejecting half of every fiber in her being.

For disowning her and escaping back to Solraidas, she blamed her father. For giving her this wretched curse and then bailing when things became hard, bowing and scraping to his family as if it would save him from the abomination he'd created.

There was no one else responsible for the look on her mother's face.

No one else to blame but the man who bore no dignity or pride.

And Iliya did not wish to see him in this life or any other.

Centuries from now would be too soon and if she never saw him again it would be for the better. He'd likely never come looking for her regardless, the thought more than comforting.

All she knew was how hurt Destry felt, having always taken on the blame herself.

Iliya found herself pacing the floors of her own bedroom, not realizing when she'd entered. Her bed had been made and her messes straightened up, though there were traces of Rhydian's panicked search in her rugs.

She saw boot prints on her carpet.

Someone had closed the balcony doors, whether it be her maid or her cousin, she didn't know.

Her skin tingled, uncomfortable anxiety and frustration prickling all over her. She shouldn't have left the estate, she never should have gone to Temple, but she most certainly should never have agreed to follow Sorein to the coast or meet Qudja at the Ceremony.

Too much.

Everything was too much.

Iliya felt so out of control her hands trembled no matter how hard she clenched them. She wondered if a breeze from the wrong direction might shatter her entirely.

In one smooth motion, she ripped her hair from its braid and pried the Temple clothes off of her. She stormed over to her closet and found herself a pair of tights and a short, summer dress with gold embroidery.

She decided it was better than nothing.

Iliya heard a soft, slow knock on the door and froze.

No more.

She couldn't handle any more.

That didn't seem to stop Rhydian from entering with a tray filled with small braided pastries. He entered wordlessly and set the small deserts covered in spices and sugar on her coffee table.

He'd changed into loose-fitting, soft garments that appeared much more breathable. They were just short of a sweatshirt and pants.

His brown hair had been brushed back out of his face now, the sweat mostly dry. Perhaps even showered though she had no idea where he'd found the time.

Rhydian lowered himself down onto her couch, tossing her a half-hearted smile and patting the spot next to him. He turned on the telescreen and focused on some show about leviathans.

Acting as if he knew exactly what she needed at that moment.

Maybe he did.

She knew he wouldn't leave, so Iliya tried to calm her nerves and came to sit beside him, hoping to ease the tension. She didn't have to be okay right now.

Only later that night.