Chương 21: Chapter 20: Three Days

Elma kept staring at Thiyya's face. Her eyes were wide, her pupils dilated to the point of swallowing her irises.

"My lady? Is something wrong?" the Commander asked, her voice sounding as if it were traveling through deep water. To Elma, Thiyya's face was rhythmically bloating and shrinking, the proportions of her jaw and eyes warping like a reflection in a disturbed pond. Elma blinked rapidly, trying to reset her visual cortex, but nothing happened. Severe caloric deficit. Acute hypoglycemia— Across the terrace, Lord Teyrn was still shouting, his voice shrill with panic.

He pointed a trembling finger at Valerius, accusing the Warlord of purposely trying to let his son die on the grass. Valerius didn't remain silent for long. He reached over his shoulder and gripped the heavy hilt strapped to his back. The metal handle groaned, emitting a low, thrumming pulse before a hot, blinding orange blade of pure energy manifested from the emitter. A thick heat haze instantly surrounded Valerius. The sheer thermal output began melting the polished wood and silver platters of the high table.

The spike in temperature completely changed the tone of Teyrn's speech. His outrage evaporated into raw, unadulterated terror.

"G-get that thing away from me!" Teyrn stammered, scrambling backward.

"Your brat tried to kill my daughter," Valerius growled.

"If that metal spike had landed, she would be dead." Before Valerius could step forward, a dark silhouette blocked his path. Fenric. The Strategoi stood between the boiling rage of the Altheris Patriarch and the trembling Teyrn Lord. The argument was muffled to Elma's failing ears, but the sudden spike of adrenaline forcefully cleared the ringing in her head. Her vision tightened, her focus returning. Yes. She was about to witness how Strategois fought. The apex of Resonance duels.

Thiyya should be capable of keeping her safe.

"Move," Valerius warned, the searing light of his blade reflecting in Fenric's calm gray eyes.

"Or you will be incinerated." Fenric didn't answer. He didn't even shift his stance. The same stance that was still ingrained in Elma's brain. The heat reached her even from the table. Elma felt it crawl across her exposed arms, the air itself thinning as it was devoured by the blade's hunger. Somewhere behind her, glass cracked from the thermal stress. Thiyya's grip on her shoulder tightened to the point of pain. Calculate the blast radius, Elma's mind screamed, her eyes darting between the two Strategois.

If this ignites, how many people in this room survive it? The answer was not promising.

"Suit yourself," Valerius snarled, raising the blade. Suddenly, a massive wall of absolute emptiness tore through the space between them, a void so dark that not even the light of Valerius's sword could pass through it. Varik stood off to Valerius's left, a short distance away, at the origin of the anomaly, his hand extended.

"Compose yourself, Valerius. You agreed to it, you knew the risks." Recognizing the sudden escalation, Thiyya immediately deposited Elma onto the intact edge of the table. She drew her own blade, stepping smoothly to Valerius's flank, ready to engage the other Thorne. This wasn't a clean Strategoi duel anymore. Too many variables, too much heat, and she was sitting close enough to be caught in whatever happened next. Elma didn't want the fight to happen anymore, not like this.

"You are standing in my way as well, Varik," Valerius threatened. The thermal output of his sword spiked, glowing brighter. The searing energy attempted to pierce and burn away the edges of the shadow wall.

"Valerius!" Nina Kresnik stood up, her voice cutting through the superheated air with the authority of a sovereign. It was the first time Elma had ever heard the Granite Lady truly shout.

"I am certain that Lord Altheris is not attacking his own guests under his own roof!" Shut up, Elma whispered under her breath, her small hands gripping the edge of the table. Nina's intervention was the only thing capable of making Valerius pause. He froze, the political reality of breaking the sacred laws of hospitality crashing into his blind fury. He stood there, his chest heaving, the blade humming against the void. Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

Valerius looked around the terrace. The musicians had frozen. Servants stood motionless. Half the Lords looked ready to dive beneath their tables. He barked out a short laugh.

"Seems my years at the Shore have made me forget proper hospitality." He ran a hand through his hair.

"I'm still relearning which problems can and cannot be solved with a sword." After a long moment of silence, Valerius's rigid posture broke. He fell into a fit of sudden, awkward laughter. He deactivated the blade and stepped forward, clapping a heavy hand onto Fenric's shoulder.

"Fenric, how much you have grown. You have the same guts your father used to have," he said, gesturing to Varik. Varik is his father. Varik did not share the laugh. He let out a long, heavy sigh, collapsing the wall of emptiness with a flick of his wrist, and quietly turned back to his seat. For several long seconds, nobody moved or spoke. The terrace remained frozen in the aftermath of Valerius's outburst.

Servants stood motionless with trays in hand, and even the musicians seemed afraid to touch their instruments. Then Lord Thorne let out a laugh. It was a low, gravelly sound that rattled in his ancient chest, and the suffocating tension on the terrace finally broke. It was as if his amusement gave the rest of the high table official permission to breathe.

"I have lived a very long time, Valerius," Lord Thorne wheezed, a withered smile touching his lips.

"And I have never seen a child fight like that." He gestured toward Elma. Elma was still sitting on the edge of the ruined table, her cheeks puffed out as she chewed rapidly through a handful of pastries on the table. It wasn't enough. Her hands were still shaking slightly. Valerius puffed out his chest, his rigid posture relaxing into a stance of supreme arrogance, acting as if the Lords were complimenting his own personal achievements. He then sat back on another chair, beside the one he burned moments ago.

The orchestra was playing again now, though cautiously, as if uncertain whether another duel might erupt. Valerius snorted.

"My apologies to the musicians. I suspect I shortened several of your lives by a few years." A few scattered laughs rippled through the terrace. They were hesitant at first, more relieved than amused, but they spread nonetheless. The feast lingered long into the evening. Wine flowed freely across the terrace. Conversation returned in scattered pockets at first, before swelling into the familiar roar of noble festivities.

Lords exchanged boasts from the Shore, merchants discussed contracts, and servants moved tirelessly between tables carrying fresh platters of food. By the time the final courses were being served, the terror of Valerius's outburst had faded into something closer to an uncomfortable memory. Elma noticed the shifting gazes across the terrace. The initial horror had been replaced by calculating interest. One by one, the nobility began to approach her.

They came bearing rapid, superficial smiles and extravagant gifts—rolls of shimmering eastern silks, heavy gold pendants, and rare, leather-bound books. They showered her with lavish compliments that washed over her like white noise. Elma accepted the offerings with blank, unblinking eyes. They recognized her terrifying potential and were desperately trying to purchase a favorable relationship with a future superweapon before her price became too high. Then, the press of silken bodies parted.

Fenric stepped forward. Elma immediately stopped chewing, her eyes narrowing. He reached out and extended another brightly wrapped candy bar, setting it on one of the books. Fenric paused, his eyes scanning her.

"Are you all right from that fight?" he asked, his tone remarkably gentle. Elma did not answer him.

"I must apologize for Damian's conduct," Fenric continued smoothly, completely unbothered by her silence.

"Striking you while your guard was lowered was entirely dishonorable. I assure you, I will see to it that he is punished personally for that." Elma swallowed the dry pastry in her mouth. She looked up, meeting the gaze of the man who had decapitated her in her previous life. The version of him in her memory did not match this one. It didn't matter.

"I am completely fine," Elma stated, her voice flat and entirely devoid of childish innocence.

"It is him you should be worried about." Fenric blinked, taken aback by the unexpected statement. Then a light laugh escaped him. He offered her a brief, respectful nod before turning and walking away into the crowd. Elma watched him go, then let her gaze drift back across the terrace. Lord Teyrn's retinue had not moved from their corner. They stood in a tight, simmering cluster around the unconscious Damian, and not a single one of them looked at her with anything resembling the hunger of the others. No silk.

No gold. No flattery. Only the kind of stare she recognized from the Pit—the stare of something that wanted to hurt you and was only waiting for permission. It struck her as deeply illogical. Their son had struck first. He had escalated to lethal weaponry. By every metric she could construct, he was the variable that had failed. Yet she was the one being watched like a disease. Elma sat alone on the edge of the wood, her eyes fixed on the gold foil wrapper.

She reached out with a trembling hand, tore away the gold foil, and took a bite. The dense nougat and chocolate flooded her system, instantly stabilizing the violent shaking in her limbs. It was sweet. The feast had thinned by the time Nina Kresnik crossed the terrace to where Valerius stood, the tall, thin woman from her retinue trailing a half-step behind, mirroring her stride out of habit rather than command.

"Has he responded yet?" Nina asked. Valerius's easy sprawl didn't change, but something behind his eyes sharpened.

"Patience, Nina. We're—" A silver-plated Alloy approached and bowed low before he could finish.

"My lord. Hephryx received the message. He'll arrive in three days." Valerius's grin spread slow and satisfied. He looked back at Nina.

"I reckon you got your answer."

"I got enough of an answer to know I'm not leaving before he arrives," Nina said, unmoved.

"Then stay," Valerius said.

"You're welcome to wait it out under my roof. I'd rather have you here than wherever else you'd be brooding." Nina didn't smile, but something in her posture settled, like a decision already made being merely confirmed aloud.

"I'll be here until then." Across the terrace, Elma sat very still, the last of the chocolate dissolving on her tongue. Three days. Her eyes narrowed.