Her bare feet moved toward the door before she even realized it.
Some part of her—the part still humming from the nightmare—wanted to know. To go back down that corridor. To press her hand to the cold iron and see.
But she stopped halfway.
Her hand hovered over the latch… and she hesitated.
Kael's voice came back to her.
"You don't want answers from doors like this."
He hadn't raised his voice. Hadn't needed to. But there'd been weight in those words. And behind it… concern? Warning?
No. She wouldn't go back. Not tonight.
Whatever was behind that door—whatever had chased her in her dream—she'd nearly walked into it once. And Kael, for reasons she didn't understand, had stopped her.
She didn't want to give him a reason not to protect her again.
With a deep breath, Elira turned away and reached instead for a thick wool cloak draped near the hearth. She wrapped it around her shoulders and crept into the corridor—not toward the forbidden wing, but upward, toward the spiral stair at the end of the hall.
The castle was quieter than she'd ever known a place to be.
Every stone seemed to sleep.
The air grew colder the higher she climbed. The wind teased the edges of her cloak and tousled strands of her golden hair. At the top of the stairs, a narrow wooden door led to the outer parapets—a stone rooftop walkway that overlooked the northern cliffs.
She pushed it open slowly.
The first light of dawn was just beginning to creep across the mountains, casting pink and silver ribbons across the sky. The forest below stretched endlessly, dark and wild, like an ocean of trees. The wind tugged at her hair, and she closed her eyes as it swept over her face.
For the first time since she arrived, Elira breathed.
Not out of habit. Not out of fear. But with the weight of something ancient lifting off her chest.
She stepped to the edge of the battlements and gripped the stone railing with both hands.
The nightmare still lingered. The demon's eyes. The echo of its growl.
But up here… it felt smaller. Like it couldn't reach her above the trees and towers and sky.
Behind her, the castle stretched in shadows, the tallest spires still cloaked in night. Somewhere below, Kael was likely still awake. Or maybe asleep in some cold chamber of his own.
She wondered if he dreamed, too.
She wondered if the thing in her dream was real… and if he had faced it once.
Elira let her eyes drift to the horizon, where the sun finally broke free from the mountains.
Soft gold light spilled over the castle walls, catching in her hair, warming her face.
For a few stolen moments, she wasn't a girl who'd been sold.
She wasn't a prisoner.
She was Elira—and the sunrise belonged to her.
kael was in his study when a servant gave a slight knock and came in.
"She's not in her chambers, my lord."
Kael turned his head slowly toward the servant who had just bowed with trembling hands. The man—a stable boy barely of age—kept his eyes averted, clearly unsure if he'd made a mistake by speaking at all.
"She's not," Kael echoed, voice low.
The boy nodded quickly. "The bed is cold. The fire out. We didn't see her leave, but—"
Kael didn't wait to hear the rest.
He stepped past the servant, long strides carrying him down the hall, cloak trailing like a shadow behind him. The castle was vast, with a hundred places to disappear. But somehow, he knew exactly where she would be.
Not in the forbidden wing.
Not in the dungeons or kitchens.
Up.
Elira wasn't afraid of heights. He'd seen it in the way she moved—too curious for a girl raised in captivity. Too sharp.
The spiral staircase groaned softly beneath his boots as he climbed, the cold air thickening the higher he went. Wind whistled faintly through the cracks in the stone. The wooden door at the top was cracked open just enough for dawn's light to creep through.
He paused there, just for a breath, before pushing it open.
And there she was.
Her back to him. Blonde hair dancing in the morning wind. Arms folded over the stone railing of the northern battlement. The rising sun painted her in gold and white, like a statue from some forgotten temple.
She hadn't heard him yet.
Didn't flinch. Didn't move.
He stepped out slowly.
"You've been busy defying me," he said, voice calm but cold.
Elira turned her head just enough to glance at him from the corner of her eye. "I needed air."
He came to stand beside her, leaving a polite distance between them, though the wind tugged his cloak close to hers.
"You could've taken air from the garden court."
"It's locked."
"I wonder why," he murmured.
A faint smile touched her lips—mocking, almost. But behind it was something quieter. Something tired.
Kael watched her in silence. She looked stronger in the morning light… and smaller, too. Fragile in a way that made something twist in his chest.
"You had a nightmare," he said, more statement than question.
Elira stiffened.
"I hear things, Elira. I know when the castle shifts in its sleep. And I know when someone walks its halls with fear in their bones."
She didn't speak for a long moment.
Then: "It chased me."
Kael turned to face her fully. "What did?"
"I don't know." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "It wasn't a man. Or a beast. It had red eyes. It wanted me."
He didn't answer right away.
Because he knew what she was describing.
He'd seen it before—in battlefields soaked in blood, in cursed tombs far from here. In dreams of his own.
"What was it?" she asked, finally turning to look him in the eyes.
His silver mask caught the sunlight. His face unreadable. His voice quieter now.
"Something old," Kael said. "Something that waits behind the wrong doors."
"Is that what you're hiding?"
"I'm hiding a great many things."
She blinked.
Then: "Why protect me?"
His voice turned to steel. "Because you were sold to me, not slaughtered. That makes you mine to keep alive. At least for now."
Elira's jaw clenched. She looked back to the horizon. "You're not what I expected."
Kael looked at her for a moment longer, then turned to face the rising sun beside her. "Neither are you."