Page 39 of Eluvonia (Rift of Ages #1)

AERIS

T he quiet murmur of the castle fills the hall as I make my way toward the training room.

My mind lost in the maze of thoughts that seem to plague me endlessly.

I’m rehearsing a mental list of things to improve in training today—my aim with the bow, my stance, maybe even the rhythm of my breathing.

That’s when Seraveille appears around the corner, her presence as unexpected as it is unwelcome.

I stop short, nearly colliding with her. She smiles—a predator’s smile, all teeth and venom.

“Well, hello… Fae,” she purrs, her voice dripping with mockery.

I nod, keeping my expression neutral. “Seraveille,” I reply, trying to step around her, but she moves deliberately to block my path.

She tilts her head, her brown hair gleaming in the dim torchlight. “I just want to say,” she begins, her tone honey-sweet, “ that I am sorry you were forced into this… arrangement with Kaida. It must be so hard for you, being around the one who orchestrated the murder of your family and friends.”

Her words hit like a dagger, the subtle twist meant to draw blood. My muscles stiffen, but I refuse to let her see it. Instead, I meet her gaze with an unwavering look. “I don’t find it hard at all,” I lie smoothly, my voice steady.

I force a smile—small, tight, and empty—and step around her, quickening my pace before she can respond. The faint echo of her chuckle follows me down the hall like a ghost, but I don’t look back.

A few moments later, I’m in the training room. The familiar weight of the bow settles in my hands as I draw back the string, sighting the center of the dummy’s chest. The soft twang of the bowstring snaps through the air, the arrow sinking into its target.

The motion is effortless now—muscle memory guiding my hands—but it wasn’t always like this.

Once, the bow had felt impossibly large in my grasp, my fingers awkward on the string. I had been small, barely ten years old, shivering in the crisp evening air as I struggled to hold the weapon steady.

“Again,” Leynard had said, his voice as patient as the stars blinking to life above us.

My arms ached. My fingers, raw and red, trembled against the bowstring.

The first arrow I loosed had barely made it past my own feet, skidding uselessly against the dirt.

Humiliation burned hot in my chest, stinging my eyes.

I had wanted to be strong. To be good. Instead, I had felt like a child playing warrior in a world that had no place for me.

Leynard had crouched beside me, his hand warm on my shoulder. “You’re gripping too tight,” he had murmured. “The bow isn’t something you fight against. It’s an extension of you. Let it guide you.”

I had sniffed, blinking hard, refusing to let him see my frustration. “It doesn’t feel like part of me.”

He had chuckled, ruffling my hair. “Not yet. But it will.”

I hadn’t believed him then. But now, standing in the training room with my bow in hand, my body moving without thought, I understand.

I exhale slowly, shaking off the memory as I nock another arrow. Sadness coiling in my chest.

My breathing evens out as I repeat the motion, each shot more precise than the last.

The door creaks open behind me, and I glance over my shoulder. Kaida strides in, his steps purposeful, his eyes locked on me.

“Put that down.” he calls out, motioning to my bow. “We’re doing something else today.”

I hesitate, lowering the bow but keeping it in my grip. “What else?” I ask, curiosity creeping into my tone.

He doesn’t answer, just jerks his head toward the door. With a reluctant sigh, I set the bow aside and follow him out of the room. His pace is brisk, and I struggle to keep up as he leads me through the labyrinthine halls of the castle.

After a series of twists and turns, we arrive at a massive room. I stop short, my eyes widening as I take in the space.

It’s overwhelming, to say the least. Shelves stretch from floor to ceiling, packed with books of every size and color.

Ladders lean against the higher shelves, and the faint scent of parchment and leather lingers in the air.

Sunlight filters through tall arched windows, casting warm golden light onto the polished wood floors.

I step farther into the room, craning my neck to take it all in. I’ve never seen anything like it. Rows upon rows of books, all lined up as though they’re waiting to share their secrets.

“Are these all… books?” I ask, glancing at Kaida.

He smirks, clearly amused. “You’ve never been in a library before?”

I shake my head, feeling a little like a small child in a world that’s too big.

Kaida leads me to a table near the center of the room and gestures for me to sit. I lower myself into the chair, still glancing around the room like it might disappear if I blink.

“What are we doing?” I finally ask, eyeing him as he pulls out a piece of parchment and places it in front of me, along with a quill.

Kaida sits across from me, his smirk widening. “A different type of training. It’s called school.”

I frown at him, tilting my head. “School?”

“Yes,” he says, leaning back in his chair. “Because, as much as your endless questions were… cute at first, they’ve officially become annoying. So I’m going to teach you the ways of the realm.”

He taps the parchment. “First things first. Let’s see what you already know. Write down the alphabet.”

I furrow my brows, staring at him like he’s grown a second head. “What’s an alphabet?”

Kaida stares at me blankly, blinking once, twice. Then he groans, dragging a hand down his face. “Do you know how to read at all?”

“I can read maps,” I offer, folding my arms across my chest.

He nods, hopeful. “Okay. Can you read the words on those maps?”

I shake my head, watching as his brief hope fizzles out.

“Great,” he mutters, leaning back in his chair with a heavy sigh. “You’re no better than a youngling.”

Kaida stands abruptly and strides to one of the towering shelves. He runs his fingers along the spines of the books, muttering to himself as he searches for something. Finally, he pulls one free and returns to the table, dropping it in front of me.

“Copy these letters,” he instructs, flipping the book open to a page filled with neatly printed symbols. “We’ll go from there.”

I glance at the book, then back at him. “Is this really necessary? I get by just fine.”

Kaida grunts, crossing his arms. “Yes, it’s necessary. You ‘got by’ because you lived in a cave in a forest where reading wasn’t a necessity. But you’re mine now, and I want you to be able to read and write. Just humor me, Aeris.”

There’s that word again . There’s something softer in his tone now, something that makes my argument wither before it even escapes my lips. I hold his gaze for a moment longer, then sigh, picking up the quill.

“Fine,” I mutter, dipping the quill into the ink.

The letters on the page are foreign to me, their shapes strange and intricate. My hand wavers as I try to replicate them on the parchment, each line and curve more awkward than the last.

Kaida watches in silence for a while, then leans forward, resting his arms on the table. “Not bad for a first attempt,” he says, his voice laced with mock encouragement. “But let’s work on making them legible, shall we? ”

I shoot him a glare, but his smirk only deepens.

The minutes stretch on as I struggle through the letters, Kaida correcting me every few lines. Despite the frustration bubbling under my skin, I can’t help but notice the faint flicker of pride in his eyes when I finally get one right.

“See?” he says, tapping the parchment with his finger. “You’re not entirely hopeless.”

“Gee, thanks,” I mutter, rolling my eyes.

He chuckles, leaning back in his chair. “Don’t mention it.”

The world outside the library fades away, leaving only the two of us and the quiet scratch of the quill on parchment.

Weeks bleed together in a blur of routines, a rhythm so consistent.

It’s almost comforting.

Breakfast in Kaida’s room, training in the sparring hall, lessons in the library, and then dinner.

Both the Dragon males have become an almost permanent fixture in my life, tagging along to teach me everything from history to the most mind-numbing palace etiquette.

The etiquette part I hate, but at least Declan makes it tolerable with his constant teasing.

Kaida, meanwhile, has been relentless in teaching me to read and write.

I can’t deny I’m improving. I can now read full books, although the occasional overly long word still trips me up.

Yesterday, Kaida caught me trying to sound out philosophy and spent a good five minutes trying not to laugh.

I threw the quill at him. It missed. Declan said I should try aiming better—cue another thrown quill.

Despite the fact that I’m supposed to hate them, they’ve somehow become the people I trust most. Even Shura, who still looks at me like she’d rather gut me than train me, has grudgingly stopped going for lethal blows during sparring. Progress.

But outside the castle? Things are far from peaceful. The Fae have grown bolder, burning Dragon villages and ambushing traveling traders. Resources in Iryndel are running dangerously thin. Retaliation has been swift and brutal, with Dragon fire scorching forests and decimating known Fae outposts.

Declan keeps me updated on everything, usually over dinner or during our library lessons—what he jokingly calls our War Council .

I try to remind him that I’m Fae and shouldn’t be privy to this kind of information, but he insists, saying that regardless of my race, I belong at Kaida’s side.

One day, he says, I might have to choose where my loyalty lies.

Kaida, for the most part, stays quiet about it, but I can see the tension in his jaw whenever Declan mentions the latest attack. I understand what Declan is saying, but my heart doesn’t agree. I know both sides of the story now, and both feel justified in their anger. Both feel wronged.

The Dragons see the Fae’s assassination of their king as the ultimate betrayal—he was only trying to protect the realm, after all.

Meanwhile, the Fae believe the Dragons are power-hungry tyrants, willing to destroy everything in their path to get what they want.

They claim the Dragons betrayed them during a time of peace, cutting off their access to magic in order to weaken and ultimately conquer them.

I’m Fae. I should be loyal to my own kind, right?

I glance at Kaida out of the corner of my eye, my thoughts swirling. Right?

Sitting in Kaida’s library— our library now, it feels like—I flip through a book from Midgard, Beauty and the Beast .

Declan told me the king himself brought it back from one of his trips.

I met the king briefly a few days ago. He’d come looking for Declan during breakfast, a kind smile lighting up his face.

He didn’t sneer or look down at me like so many others do.

Instead, he told me he still believes Dragons and Fae can one day live in harmony.

His words stuck with me. I hope for that too.

I turn another page, the story drawing me in despite its simplicity. I can’t help but relate to Belle—a prisoner in a castle, stuck with a broody beast. A quiet snort escapes me as I compare my life to hers.

The sound of Declan and Kaida’s voices echoes through the library, their argument shattering my focus.

“I’m just saying, maybe next time you could actually think before charging headfirst into a trap,” Declan jabs, his arms crossed as he leans back in his chair.

Kaida scoffs, his wings twitching in irritation. “It wasn’t a trap. It was a calculated risk. And if I hadn’t ‘charged in,’ we’d still be sitting there debating logistics while that caravan burned to the ground.”

Declan snorts. “Calculated risk, my tail. You looked at the problem, saw the biggest one, and decided to punch it.”

“And it worked, didn’t it?” Kaida retorts, smirking.

“Yes, after you nearly got yourself skewered by that rogue with the—what was it—oh, right, the gigantic spear . Brilliant move, really.”

“Don’t forget the part where I saved your sorry hide when that second Fae snuck up on you.” Kaida leans against the table, his grin widening.

Declan waves him off. “Details. Besides, I had it under control.”

Kaida raises an eyebrow. “Sure, because screaming like a hatchling is the hallmark of control.”

I snort into my book, unable to hide my laughter. Declan glares at me, though there’s no real malice in it. “Don’t encourage him, Aer.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it,” I reply, biting back a grin.

Before Declan can fire back, a messenger strides into the library, his face pale and drawn.

He bows quickly and turns to Kaida. “Sir, report from Thaldrim. There’s been an attack on a mountain village near the base of the range.

Massive casualties. The attack is ongoing, and they’re requesting immediate aid. ”

The light banter evaporates instantly. Kaida straightens, his expression hardening. “Ready the soldiers. I’ll meet everyone at the front gate,” he says with the calm authority of someone who’s done this too many times before.

The messenger salutes and leaves as quickly as he came. I place my book down and walk over to Kaida, who’s already reaching for his sword. He’s been keeping it close to him lately, always ready for an attack.

“Duty calls,” he says softly, his tone gentler now. His fingers brush a stray strand of hair from my face, tucking it behind my ear.

“Aren’t I coming with you?” I ask, the question slipping out before I can stop it.

Kaida smiles and shakes his head. “Not this time. I need to be able to move quickly and focus on dealing with the Fae without having to worry about your safety.”

I cross my arms and pout, frustration bubbling up. “I know how to defend myself.”

He chuckles, a light sound that doesn’t quite mask the concern in his eyes. “Yes, I don’t deny that. But you’re not quite at my level,” he says with a wink, his usual teasing tone making me huff in annoyance.

I smile faintly regardless, the warmth of his words still carrying weight even if I don’t want to admit it. My chest tightens with unease, but I try to push it aside. “Be safe,” I whisper.

Kaida pauses for a moment, looking at me with a deeper gaze, as if saying something more than what his words offer.

His gaze holds mine for a moment, longer than it should. Declan clears his throat loudly, breaking the tension. “What about me? No heartfelt goodbyes for your favorite Dragon?” he asks, his mock-offended tone lightening the mood just a little.

I roll my eyes. “Try not to annoy everyone to death,” I say with a wink.

Declan scoffs, pulling me into a quick hug. “We’ll be back soon,” he promises, his usual cheer dimmed slightly.

I nod, stepping back, but a strange unease settles in my stomach as they head toward the door.

Something about this feels…off.