"I think we should be well on our way," Serena quipped.
Amara and Charlotte had not given her a glance and she sighed, they were still well into trying to feel the other out.
"I would liek to go check on horse," Elen announced.
There was no reaction and the woman slipped away. Serena glanced between Charlotte and Amara before she followed Elen quietly. She kept a respectable distance and waited until the time was right to approach the younger woman.
"Hello," Serena began.
Elen turned around with slightly widened eyes and then threw her face away. "How may I be of help, your excellency."
The blonde pressed her lips together and regarded Elen with saddened eyes, if only she knew that she below everyone who sat at those council room. Yet another title was added to her arsenal: a liar.
"Please, just call me Serena."
The words fell between them like a pebble in still water. Elen did not answer. She knelt beside her horse, brushing her gloved hand across its flank, focusing on the task as though her life depended on it. Her shoulders were tense, drawn high as wires.
"I did not mean to deceive you," Serena continued, more gently. "When we first met, I had no intention of-"
"Pretending to be someone else?" Elen’s voice was soft, but it cut sharper than expected. "Begging pardon, my lady. I am certain it was all in the name of diplomacy."
Serena flinched, more at the controlled tone than the words themselves. "It was not meant as an insult."
Elen stood slowly, brushing dust from her skirts. Her eyes, those light, brown eyes met Serena’s, unreadable but no longer timid. "With all due respect, your excellency, you and I have nothing left to speak of."
"That is not true," Serena said quickly, stepping closer. "I do not wish for there to be this distance between us. I thought..." she trailed off, wincing at her own foolishness. "I thought we were growing to be friends."
Elen’s brows lifted slightly, and her mouth twitched, not in amusement, but something darker, bitterer. "Friends? You say this now, once I know your true station?"
Serena felt the words snag in her throat. She clasped her hands together, tightly enough that her knuckles paled. "You treated me with honesty. You never once cared for my title when you believed I had none. That meant something to me. It still does."
"I treated you as I thought you were," Elen replied, her voice low. "A woman like myself...an Ironshade official, quiet but worthy of her place. You spoke kindly, and I thought... well. I suppose I thought many things."
Serena’s stomach turned. Guilt pooled in her chest, and she looked down at the crushed grass beneath her boots. "I never meant for you to feel betrayed. I swear it."
Elen gave a small, tight laugh. "You did not need to mean it for it to happen." She turned her face toward the trees, the soft dapples of sunlight painting her in muted golds. "Do you know what they say about people like me, back in Dawnbreak? That I am too slow, too meek to bear a name of weight. I’m only here because my family once held a minor branch. If not for Lady Amara’s kindness, I would not even have a seat on this expedition."
The words burned in Serena’s ears. She wanted to reach out, to take Elen’s hand, to reassure her of something but she did not know what would be accepted. "I do not believe that," she said at last.
Elen’s gaze flicked toward her, momentarily vulnerable. "But you do pity me."
Serena opened her mouth, then closed it again. "I care for you."
"That is not the same."
They stood in silence for a moment longer, the breeze rustling through the trees, tugging at their skirts like a restless child. A bird called overhead. Far off, the sound of hooves crunching on dried grass.
"Why did you follow me?" Elen asked, quietly now.
"Because I was worried for you," Serena admitted. "And I missed our conversations. I... felt we understood one another, even for a short time."
Elen studied her, expression unreadable once again. "Perhaps that time has passed."
Before Serena could speak again, the sound of laughter broke through the trees. Amara and Charlotte emerged from the ruins, both mounted and seemingly in high spirits. Charlotte wore a smirk; Amara wore something far worse, a knowing smile, one steeped in far too much observation. Thɪs chapter is updated by NoveI[F]ire.net
"Well, there you are," Charlotte called out. "I was beginning to think the two of you had eloped."
Serena straightened, keeping her face neutral. Elen merely stepped back toward her horse and began adjusting the saddle straps, a little too briskly.
Amara waved her hand with fluid ease. "We thought it best to continue our ride before the sun decides to retire. Though I must admit"—her eyes swept over Elen and Serena—"we were rather intrigued by the delay."
Serena tilted her chin. "We were simply tending to the horses."
"Of course." Amara’s voice was smooth as warmed honey. "How thoughtful."
Charlotte rode forward, nudging Serena lightly with the heel of her boot. "Mount up, would you? Before Amara starts composing poems about our campfire stares."
Elen remained quiet, already mounted and looking straight ahead. Her posture was perfectly upright, her face as composed as a sculpture.
Serena exhaled, softly. She brushed her hand over the horse’s mane, this one was mercifully obedient and swung up into the saddle. As she settled, she glanced once more at Elen, hoping for some look, some flicker of the old familiarity. But the younger woman kept her gaze fixed on the marked path ahead.
They rode on in silence for a while, the forest closing in softly around them. Birds sang, insects hummed, and the occasional shaft of light pierced through the canopy. The marked trail wound like a ribbon through the woods, well-worn but peaceful.
Amara rode slightly behind now, content to let Charlotte lead once more. Her eyes, however, remained ever on the pair ahead.
Serena’s thoughts were not on the trail but on Elen, the way she rode as though made of glass, the way her hands never rested but constantly adjusted the reins. The wall had been built. Whatever door had been ajar before had now been sealed, and Serena could not find a way back in.
She felt the ache settle in her chest like something cold and unwanted.
Beside her, Amara gave a quiet hum. "Such interesting weather today," she said idly, her voice laced with something unspoken.
Charlotte snorted. "What a peculiar observation."
"Not peculiar at all," Amara said, smiling again. "The weather always shifts when people say too much... or not enough."