“I wondered when our efforts would finally bring you to me,” Thalmyr says.
Elyssara’s lip curls faintly. “You didn’t bring me in. Though I’m aware of all your attempts to do so. But I’ve wondered something too….” she trails off.
Then her eyes pin him in place. “I wondered how long you thought you’d get away with all this.”
The air tightens.
Thalmyr exhales slowly, clasping his hands behind his back, posture straightening—not defensive, but bracing.
“You think I did this lightly.”
It is not a question.
Elyssara steps forward. Just one step. Enough to close the distance. Enough to make it clear she is not here to circle the truth.
“I think,” she says, voice low, controlled, lethal in its precision, “that you chose who to save and who to sacrifice so you could remain comfortable.”
Thalmyr responds instantly. “Kings are not granted the luxury of clean choices, Elyssara. Only survivable ones.”
Silence falls. Heavy. Unavoidable. But Elyssara was never good at holding her tongue. And here? She fucking refuses.
“And I think,” she continues, her gaze locking onto his, “you decided we weren’t worth saving.”
He drags a hand through his golden hair, his sharp jaw set and rigid.
“No,” Thalmyr says quietly. “I decided I could not save everyone.”
A bitter laugh escapes him. “You speak like someone who still believes there was a path where no one suffered.”
Calira steps forward, arm reaching out to put distance between Elyssara and Thalmyr, her brows pinched in fury. “You speak of things you do not understand, Lightborne,” she snaps, as if defending the man who cast out an entire population of people. “He was the only person who ever chose to save me. Without him, I would have died in those slums with everyone else you’re mourning.” The words leave her mouth with the sharp certainty of devotion.
Thalmyr closes his eyes briefly—not proud, not ashamed. Only aware of the cost of being loved by people his choices damaged most.
“Stand down, Callie darling,” Thalmyr soothes with the affection of a father.
Calira obeys instantly with devotion so deeply ingrained it has become instinct.
Elyssara’s mind drifts to Revryn grieving the daughter who’s still alive. Mourning the loss of the sweet child he sang lullabies to. And then she thinks of the asshole who ripped her from his arms and turned her monstrous. Turned her intothis.
“Yeah, Callie darling. Stand down and let the adults talk,” Jax hisses.
And for once, Elyssara enjoys the jab. Because it’s Revryn her heart bleeds for. Not Calira.
Calira bares her teeth, but Thalmyr does not flinch.
Ronyn leans in. “I told you there’s a weird dynamic going on, El,” he whispers loudly enough for everyone to hear. “You know that fairytale where the prisoner falls for the captor? Kind of like that.”
But Jax slams her boot into the marble floors, the sound echoing through the halls. Everyone’s eyes snap to her, and she gets exactly what she wants: everyone’s attention.
“You will answer for your atrocities,” she snarls at Thalmyr, stepping around Calira like she is inconsequential.
Thalmyr does not speak, just huffs a long, pained sigh.
So Elyssara takes the opening. “Quite the privilege to ignore the Earthbound, watch them starve, and still sleep soundly at night.”
Thalmyr flinches. Small, but real.
That, more than anything, tells Elyssara she is closer to the truth than he would like.
