She nodded slowly. “He’s like this insidious shadow. Always there. Watching me like he knows me—like he’swaiting. I saw him when Thorne tried to read my memories the other day. And…”
“And what?” I asked, voice low.
Her eyes flicked away. “I think I saw him at the market. Right before the attack.”
My stomach turned. “Elle…”
“I’m sorry. I should’ve said something.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Because I didn’t know if he was real,” she admitted. “And then everything happened so fast. Slade got hurt, you all chased after the rebels. I guess... I forgot.”
I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. “It’s okay. But youcan’tkeep things like that from us. We’re supposed to be a team.”
She gave a dry laugh. “According to Thorne, I’m not officially part of the team yet. He’s convinced I’ll bolt the first chance I get.”
My chest tightened at that. “You’re not going to bolt... are you?”
The thought of her leaving hit harder than I liked to admit.
“Not today,” she said, smiling faintly. “But…”
“Elira—”
“I don’t know, Phoenix.” Her voice softened, almost lost. “I came here for Finn. To save him. And now he’s gone. I don’t want to be the king’s pawn, but I can’t deny…”
“Deny what?” I asked gently.
She looked up at me then. Vulnerable. Honest.
“That I’m growing... attached. To some people here.” Her eyes met mine, knowingly.
“Attached huh?” I asked, unable to help my smile. “How so?”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” She snarked. But I could sense the truth.
“I would never dream of it,” I grinned at her.
She lay back on the ground, looking up at the ceiling. I lay down beside her.
“I hate that I can’t tell what’s real,” she whispered. “I hate that I didn’t evencareto know who I was until now. What if I’m not someone worth remembering?”
“Don’t say that.” My voice came out harder than I meant it to. I took a breath. Softer this time: “You are.”
She looked at me then, and for a heartbeat, I saw the fear drop away, just enough to let something else peek through. Grief, maybe. Or hope.
I studied her face for a long moment—how the dim light caught in her eyes, how the uncertainty lived just beneath her skin.
She didn’t know who she was. And somehow, that terrified her more than anything else.
“I was younger than you,” I said finally, “when I came here.”
She glanced at me, surprised.
“My father was a soldier. My mother... I barely remember her. She died young. My brothers were all older. Strong. Loud. Aggressive.” I smirked faintly. “I was the quiet one. But I was angry. Always angry, and I didn’t know why.”
She listened, eyes softening as I spoke.
