But I swallowed it whole.
It was like I took a step further away from myself—watched the moment from somewhere behind my own ribs. Detached. Hollow.
But inside? Something shook.
“So this war,” I said, steadying my voice. “Will you attack Varrowmere? Will you fight Vael and his men?”
Syrena hesitated. Just for a breath.
Something flickered in her expression—somethinghuman.
But then she tucked it away.
Slipped back into the queen.
“Vael is already gathering troops,” she said. “Our spies report he’s planning to march—here. For you.”
I nodded, looking back out at the sea. “I saw him in Varrowmere.”
Syrena froze. “And?”
“And I understand the urgency. I want to fight.”
“Fight?” Syrena looked confused.
“Send me to training. I’ll fight with the soldiers. I’ll go to the front lines.”
“Elira… I just got you back.”
“I’m not useful to you here.” I replied. “Give me a sword. A blade. Anything.”
Syrena’s jaw tightened.
“No,” she said softly. “Not yet.”
I blinked. “What?”
“I won’t send you to the front lines. Not now. Not like this. You were not meant to be a soldier. You need to stay safe.”
Anger sparked in my chest—sharp and sudden, like something snapping loose.
“You don’t get to decide that,” I said. “Not now.”
Syrena flinched like I’d struck her. “Elira—”
“No.” My voice rose—controlled, but cold. “You think because we share blood, you can pull rank? You have no idea what I’ve survived. No idea what it took just to stand here. So don’t tell me I’m not ready. You’re not ready.”
“I’m trying to protect you,” she said, the words strained. “I can’t lose you again.”
“Then don’t,” I snapped. “Let me fight.”
Her silence stretched too long. When she finally spoke, it was barely a whisper.
“No.”
I stared at her. Jaw tight. Chest burning.
“It doesn’t matter what you dress me in, Your Highness. Silks, silver—whatever makes me easier to look at.” My voice shook. “I will never be your princess.”
