Chapter 130: Weight of Apologies
If only effort was enough to survive. If only devotion and sleepless labor could ward off disaster, then countless families would not be facing ruin.
While Riley struggled in another part of the palace trying to piece together fragments of memory while not recoiling at his own shamelessness from the night before, deep within the elven palace someone else was drowning in grief.
The chamber was hidden.
A place rarely spoken of, never shown to outsiders, carved into the palace foundation where one would think marble met bedrock.
The air was heavy, the torches too dim, their flames shuddering like frightened children. It was the kind of room where voices felt muffled by stone, where secrets went to die.
And yet today, voices did not die. They cracked. They bled.
"Arlen! Have you been lying to me?"
Lady Rhiannon’s voice was sharp, breaking in places where it had once been composed. She, who had always carried herself with serenity, now looked undone.
Tears streaked her pale cheeks, staining what dignity she had left. "You said we would get him back soon! You promised me. It has been so many days and still nothing!"
She clutched at her skirts as if the fabric could anchor her to reality, as if by wrinkling the cloth she could somehow wrinkle time and force it to return what had been taken.
Lord Arlen stood across from her, fists curled so tightly his knuckles whitened. His lips trembled but his words came out steady, deliberate. "We have not stopped looking. We will not stop. But to bring him back we must buy time. Without that, our attempts would fail before they even begin."
"Buy time?" Rhiannon’s voice cracked into disbelief. "How can we speak of time when you have heard it yourself from the servants? Whispers spreading like wildfire, whispers we cannot silence. Do you think time is on our side?"
Arlen flinched, the truth cutting him deeper than any blade.
In truth, he hated this.
He hated every second of it.
They had never asked for this, never wanted to be tangled with others. And yet here they were, their family torn apart, their hope stretched so thin it was barely hope at all.
"Rowan!" Rhiannon turned toward the shadow lingering near the doorway. Her voice wavered between command and plea. "What even happened? You swore you would take care of it!"
The elven prince stepped forward, his eyes steady but his heart in shambles. He bowed his head, shame flickering in his gaze. "Mother, Father, I apologize. It was a miscalculation on my part."
Rhiannon’s breath hitched, as if the apology itself was a blade driven into her chest.
"But I promise to rectify it," Rowan continued, his voice firm even though the weight of failure pressed against his ribs. "In the meantime, we must turn our focus to the next crucial point. If that fails, then everything collapses."
He said it with bravado, but his mother’s tear-streaked face told him what words could not.
Had it not already collapsed? Were they not standing in the rubble of their own mistakes?
Rowan’s head ached with the thought. No. There had to be a way.
But would it work? Could it work?
He did not know.
And yet, he had no choice but to try.
__
Clank!
"Ughhhh!"
It was rather frustrating to say the least. Because after about an hour of deliberating, his brilliant list so far contained only three things: bugs, breathing, and sobs.
Yes. That was it. Bugs, breathing, and sobs.
Hardly the work of a genius.
At first he was hesitant to even write them down because the more he tried to recall, the higher the chance he might end up convincing himself that those were exactly what he had heard. Which would be unreliable. At this point, people should pray he never had to be the witness to a crime, because who knows what he’d be able to remember?
And really, who knows if it’s right to remember them?
Because for one, no one had figured out why and how he was hearing those things in the first place.
But since the information had proven useful before, maybe it would be useful again. That was the thin thread of hope he clung to.
Only, he first needed peace of mind. A single quiet moment to think straight. Which was difficult when he was constantly intercepted by servants, each approaching with the kind of apologetic smiles that looked like they had been rehearsed in front of a mirror.
Sure enough, the golden lizard had been right. The servants’ entire disposition had changed overnight.
If Riley had been wandering the halls like a ghost since his arrival, now it felt like every single person from every wing of the palace could somehow sense his presence and converge on him like moths to a flame.
If not for years of standing beside his boss and enduring the crushing weight of too many eyes, he would have crumbled under the pressure. Instead, he sat straighter, convincing himself that those stares were not crushing him but were proof he was, against all odds, still alive.
More like, still useful enough to stay alive.
So, outside in the garden, Riley finally dropped onto a stone bench and leaned back. He exhaled, forcing himself to glance upward. The sky was a stunning blue, crisp and clean, like a painting. For a moment he almost relaxed.
Then a shadow fell over him.
Riley blinked. The blue sky disappeared, blocked by a face hovering far too close. His first thought was immediate panic. Of course, it had to be Kael. Who else would lean in without warning, invade personal space like oxygen was optional, and expect him to just accept it?
He braced for golden eyes, sharp words, maybe even a sarcastic remark about his posture.
Except it wasn’t Kael.
It was Rowan.
"...Oh," Riley blurted, his tone a mix of confusion and the lingering horror of almost being nose-to-nose with the wrong immortal. "Good afternoon, Your Highness."
Rowan straightened slightly, eyes calm, voice smooth. "Good afternoon, Aide Hale."
Riley tilted his head, suspicion creeping in despite his polite smile. "Are you... roaming the gardens? Looking for the dragon lord, perhaps, Your Highness?"
Because that made sense. Everyone was usually looking for Kael. He was either the target or the excuse, never Riley, thankfully.
In reality, Riley had been quietly rehearsing answers in his head, prepping lines from the earlier agreement in case the elves tried anything. But none of those rehearsed responses survived what Rowan actually said next.
"No. Not Kael." Rowan’s voice was clear. "This time, I am here for you."