[Octavia’s POV]
Two hours have passed, each minute stretching into eternity as I hold Elwin’s sleeping form in my arms. The room is hushed, the only sound the gentle rhythm of his breathing. Occasionally, a small whimper escapes his lips, a painful reminder of the grief that haunts him even in sleep. Each ti, I tighten my embrace, willing my love to seep into his dreams and soothe his battered soul.
I trace the contours of his face with my gaze, morizing every line, every freckle. His lashes, still damp with tears, flutter against his cheeks.
“Oh, my love,” I whisper, my voice barely audible. “I’m so sorry. You weren’t ready to lose a sister today.”
As if in response, Elwin shifts in his sleep, burrowing closer to . His fingers clutch at my shirt, desperate for connection even in unconsciousness. I press a soft kiss to his forehead, wishing I could take away his pain, shoulder his burden.
A sudden knock at the door shatters the quiet. I stiffen, my arms instinctively tightening around Elwin. For a mont, I’m torn between answering and pretending we didn’t hear. But the knock cos again, more insistent this ti.
With a resigned sigh, I carefully extricate myself from Elwin’s embrace. He lets out a small sound of protest, his brow furrowing at the loss of contact. I pause, watching to ensure he settles back into sleep before I move away.
As I stand, my muscles protest, stiff from holding the sa position for so long. I stretch, wincing at the series of pops that echo through my spine.
I make my way to the door, each step careful and asured to avoid making noise. At the threshold, I pause, glancing back at Elwin. He’s curled into himself now, looking small and vulnerable in the large bed. My heart clenches at the sight.
Taking a deep breath, I open the door and step out into the hallway, pulling it shut behind with a soft click.
Waiting for in the hallway are Lydia and Diana Warbringer, their regal bearing a stark contrast to the somber atmosphere. Their eyes lock onto , sizing up like opponents entering a fight.
Diana’s blue eyes bore into . Her voice, when she speaks, is curt and commanding. “He’s asleep?”
I nod. “Yes, Your Highness.”
Diana’s lips press into a thin line. With a sharp gesture, she motions towards the stairs. “Let’s go downstairs.”
The journey down the ornate staircase feels drawn-out, each step echoing ominously in the hushed manor. The sisters flank , their presence oppressive. I can feel the weight of their gazes on my back, assessing, judging.
We enter the living room. The plush sofas and intricately woven tapestries seem to mock the gravity of the situation.
As we settle into our seats, I notice the servants hovering at the edges of the room. Their faces are drawn, eyes darting nervously between the royal sisters and myself. There’s a palpable sense of unease in the air as if they can sense the storm brewing.
Diana’s sharp voice cuts through the silence. “Leave us,” she commands.
The servants practically trip over themselves in their haste to obey, filing out of the room with barely concealed relief. The heavy door closes behind them with a resounding thud, leaving us alone in a silence that feels oppressive.
Lydia and Diana sit across from , their postures imposing. Diana’s ice-blue eyes bore into with an intensity that makes my skin prickle. Lydia, by contrast, affects an air of casual disinterest, but I can see the sharp calculation behind her hazel gaze.
For a long mont, no one speaks. The only sound is the gentle rustle of leaves from the garden outside, a stark contrast to the suffocating atmosphere within.
Finally, Lydia breaks the silence. Her voice is deceptively light.
“Brother ntioned you this morning to when I picked him up.”
I nod, unsure how to respond.
Diana lets out a long sigh, her shoulders dropping slightly.
“I spoke to Mother before she left yesterday. She has formally given her support to Octavia the Hero.”
Relief washes over like a cool wave, montarily drowning out the anxiety that’s been gnawing at my insides. I hadn’t realized how much I’d been counting on the Queen’s support until this mont.
Lydia’s reaction is imdiate and visceral. She scoffs, the sound harsh and grating in the quiet room. Her hazel eyes narrow as she turns to Diana, disbelief etched into every line of her face.
“Why would she do that?”
Diana’s eyes flick to briefly before settling back on Lydia.
“Because the hero has agreed to live in our domain if they were to be married.”
Lydia’s reaction is swift and unexpected. Her hazel eyes suddenly widen with interest as she turns to face fully.
“So you’d be willing to live in the castle despite being a noble of Isalora?” she asks, her voice tinged with a mixture of curiosity and skepticism.
“Yes,” I say confidently. “I was only granted my title of baroness because I pulled the hero’s sword from the stone. I have nothing else tying to the Isalora kingdom.”
Taking another deep breath, I continue, “I simply wish to be with Elwin. My ho is wherever he is.”
As soon as the words leave my mouth, I can see sothing shift in Lydia’s expression. The skepticism lts away, replaced by a cunning smile.
“Interesting,” Lydia murmurs, her voice soft but filled with implications. “Very interesting indeed.”
‘Lydia and Diana are the easy ones. Promising them proximity to Elwin in the future is enough to placate them for now. Thank God I don’t have to deal with Celestia yet.’
“Can we talk about Elwin now?” Diana says, clearly ready to move on to the more important topic.
“Ahh, yes.” Lydia leans forward. “I confird with the witnesses,” she begins, her voice steady and matter-of-fact. “Rowena indeed challenged Rolo to the fight.”
Diana nods, her face an impassive mask. “So then it’s cut and dry,” she states. “When a Warbringer issues a formal challenge, they accept the possibility of death. Rolo acted within her rights.”
The casualness with which they discuss their sister’s death sends a chill down my spine. There’s no grief in their voices, no hint of mourning. It’s as if they’re discussing the weather rather than the brutal end of a family mber.
“The problem for us,” Lydia begins, her voice low and asured, “is the reason for Rowena’s challenge.” She pauses.
“Rolo,” Lydia continues, her tone hardening, “called our dear brother a slut and a whore. She accused him of being willing to sleep with any girl that moves. Soone that uses won and then dumps them to play with their hearts.”
The room seems to grow colder as Lydia’s words sink in. I feel a surge of anger rising within , my fists clenching at my sides. How dare Rolo speak of Elwin that way? The urge to hunt her down and make her pay for those words is almost overwhelming.
Diana’s reaction is more visceral. Her hand flies to the hilt of her sword, gripping it so tightly her knuckles turn white. The tallic rasp of steel against leather fills the air as she partially draws the blade, her blue eyes blazing with fury.
“Rowena, you impatient twat,” Diana snarls, her voice trembling with barely contained rage. The venom in her words is palpable.
For a mont, I think Diana might leap from her seat and go on a rampage. But then, as quickly as it appeared, the anger seems to drain from her. She takes a deep breath,. With deliberate slowness, she slides her sword back into its sheath.
“There’s nothing to be done now,” Diana says, her voice once again cool and controlled. “Rowena staked her honor to defend our brother and lost.” The finality in her tone sends a chill down my spine.
“So,” Lydia begins angrily, “what is the result then? Because Rolo won, our brother is to be marked as a whore?”
“No, of course not,” Diana says. “But since Rowena already tried to get retribution for Princess Rolo’s words, the matter is settled.”
The finality in her tone is unmistakable, brooking no argunt. Yet I find myself speaking up, driven by a fierce protectiveness that burns in my chest like a raging inferno.
“Could I challenge her as Elwin’s lover?” I ask.
Diana turns to . “That would make you an emissary of Sunhaven. It would be no different than Lydia or I taking revenge.”
Diana’s eyes narrow, a hint of frustration creeping into her icy gaze.
“You two don’t understand. Because of Rolo, the Horsehearts will fear retribution from Sunhaven. There will be a eting between our mother and the Queen of Eltar.”
“Mother is very clear on matters like these,” Diana continues. “I’m confident the Queen of Eltar will offer an apology for Rolo’s words there, but the matter of losing Rowena is settled. She challenged Rolo and lost.”
Diana’s gaze sweeps over Lydia and , her eyes as sharp and unyielding as tempered steel. “Mother would never recognize a daughter who lost a duel as anything other than weak. To her, Rowena’s death is a testant to her own failings.”
Diana continues, her voice taking on an almost lecturing tone. “In Mother’s eyes, this is nothing more than a culling of the weak. She only expects one of us to survive as it is. It’s a harsh reality, but it’s one we’ve lived with our entire lives. Rowena knew the risks when she issued that challenge. Her death, while tragic for Elwin, is simply a consequence of our way of life.”
Lydia leans back in her chair, a thoughtful expression crossing her face. Her hazel eyes glimr with calculation as she processes Diana’s words. After a mont of tense silence, she lets out a long sigh.
“Yes, I suppose you’re right,” Lydia concedes, her voice tinged with reluctance. “Mother’s views on strength and weakness are... uncompromising, to say the least.”
“But it still leaves a bad taste in my mouth,” I say, unable to keep the bitterness from my voice. “Rolo slandered Elwin, spread vicious lies about him. Surely there must be so way to...” I trail off, the words catching in my throat.
My voice drops to a near whisper as I voice it aloud. “What about an assassination?”
The mont the words leave my lips, the atmosphere in the room shifts dramatically. Diana’s ice-blue eyes snap to , widening slightly in surprise before narrowing dangerously.
“Such cowardly tactics are beneath the Warbringers, hero.”
The rebuke stings, sharp and cold as a winter wind. I feel my cheeks flush with sha.
‘I fucked up, I wasn’t thinking. I knew that and still said it out of anger. Fuck.’
Diana rises from her seat. She paces before the grand fireplace.
“We are warriors, not sneaks and assassins,” Diana continues, her voice gaining strength and conviction with each word. “We face our enemies head-on, sword to sword, strength against strength. That is the Warbringer way.”
Lydia laughs, the sound sharp and mocking in the tense silence. Her hazel eyes glitter with barely concealed disdain as she turns to face .
“Do try your best not to disgrace the family or our brother,” Lydia says, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “We Warbringers have standards to uphold, after all.”
I bow my head, anger burning hot in my chest, but I force myself to remain outwardly calm. Lydia’s mocking words sting, but I know better than to rise to her bait.
I know I could probably take Lydia in a fight. The hero’s strength flows through my veins. But Diana... Diana is another matter entirely. Her reputation precedes her.
So I swallow my pride, bitter as it tastes. I push down the anger, the indignation, the fierce desire to defend Elwin’s honor. Now is not the ti for rash actions or ill-considered words. I need to play the long ga here.
“You’re right, of course,” I say, forcing humility into my voice. “I spoke out of turn. The Warbringer way is one of honor and direct confrontation. I have much to learn if I am to stand beside Elwin.”
“That will be all Hero.” Diana dismisses .
I get up and bow once more.
“Thank you, Your Highness.”
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