Chapter 83: _ Did it Work?

Elira No-One

...

The Starlight Lotus tea tasted like boiled grass and mint, but it settled into my stomach warmly.

I closed my eyes expecting a restful sleep, but the fog in my mind parted.

I was trapped against the cold iron of the drainage grate in the Sunken Arch. The stench of stagnant water filled my nostrils, while Tobin’s breath fanned my neck.

A tall figure stepped into the pale blue moss light.

"I’m notorious for stealing from girls. But even those girls beg to get into my bed."

The clarity of the memory was outstanding. It was as though I was right back there.

It hadn’t been an illusion. Prince Ivar Wulfram had stepped out of the darkness, bared his fangs, and driven that monster away.

Then came the part my mind had buried under compulsion.

He didn’t just cut my vines and leave. He crouched in the dirt beside me and brushed a lock of dark hair away from my cheek.

"Are you okay? He didn’t... do anything to you, did he?" His emerald eyes held a look so soft it made my breath catch.

"No. Thanks to you... he didn’t."

"Good. You look like a petal that needs sunlight. Not rough hands that only know how to crush things."

The Wolf Prince was staring at my face as if he were losing his mind.

A petal.

Before I could process the ridiculously poetic declaration, he had leaned down and gently pressed his lips straight against my forehead.

The touch scorched through my skin, sending a violent, electric shiver straight down my spine. My soul flared in response and right there and then, a strange warmth bloomed behind my ribs. I had liked it. I had liked the touch, the warmth, and the protectiveness of it so much my head had spun.

I had liked... him. A lot.

Then Prince Ivar had snapped backward, looking utterly terrified of his own actions.

"Look at me. You never saw me here. Something scared that Sylven away, and he fled before he could touch you. You woke up, freed your friends, and got out."

"AAAGH!"

I sat bolted upright in bed, a scream tearing from my throat.

"Elira!"

The dormitory lights flared as Bren threw off her sheets, reaching for her hunting dagger on the nightstand. Miriel tumbled out of her bed with a squeak, landing on her knees with her hair completely disheveled.

"What’s wrong?!" Miriel gasped, scrambling across the floor to my bedside. "Did the Sylven return?! Is it Tobin?!"

"Are you hurt?" Bren demanded, rushing over and grabbing my shoulders.

I sat there panting, my chest heaving as the cold sweat dripped down my neck. I couldn’t believe it.

Ivar had saved us. The Wolf Prince... the man I had publicly accused of being an outlaw two nights ago had saved my life, called me a delicate flower, kissed my forehead, and then wiped my brain so I wouldn’t ruin his bad-boy reputation.

The worst part was that I liked it.

The kiss. The tenderness. The way he’d brushed my hair from my face and looked at me as though, for one ridiculous moment, I was something worth protecting.

I liked it, and that was precisely what made me want to scream.

Because liking his kiss didn’t mean I’d given him permission to kiss me. It certainly didn’t mean he had the right to reach into my mind, steal the memory, and leave me believing he’d transformed into Tobin.

I could want him to kiss me again and still be furious that he’d decided what I was allowed to remember.

Both things could be true.

And I hated that they were.

So does he hate me now?

He must have been hurt. It was unfair of me to hurl curses at him instead of a mountain of gratitude.

Now I understood what he meant when he asked who had permitted me to let another man touch me. Maybe... maybe because of that one moment, he had thought there was something between us.

Because there was.

What the hell, Elira, I gulped, unable to believe myself. Here I was, feeling sorry about a man who had creepily kissed me and had declared his ownership of me in the weirdest way ever when he caught me kissing Raice.

He didn’t own me. He had no right to kiss me. I should be mad. That man compelled my memories away. But I wasn’t completely mad. I liked that he kissed me. With my complete memory now, I liked that he was jealous when he saw me with Raice.

Oh, gods. Oh, gods. My mind... It’s a mess. A complete mess.

What the hell is happening to me?

"Elira?" Bren and Miriel muttered in unison.

"I... I remembered," I stammered, clutching my knees.

"Remembered what? The tea worked?" Bren asked.

"Yes," I breathed, looking between their anxious faces.

My mouth opened to tell them everything, but I glanced at Miriel. Miriel was staring at me with wide, hopeful eyes, clutching her hands against her chest. Ever since the Sunken Arch, Miriel had firmly believed Prince Ivar had been stalking us because he was secretly watching over her.

If I told her that Ivar had crouched in the mud, called me a petal, and kissed my forehead while looking at me like I was the only thing in the realm... it would break her heart into pieces.

"It was Prince Ivar," I said quickly, stripping out the kiss and the petal comment entirely. "He was there. He’s the one who fought off the Sylven in the Sunken Arch... and... I didn’t remember because he compelled me to forget it."

Miriel let out a high-pitched gasp, slapping both hands over her mouth. "I KNEW IT! I knew my Prince was our guardian angel!"

Bren frowned, crossing her arms over her nightshirt. "Hold on. If the Wolf Prince saved us, why in the seven hells did he compel your mind to forget he was there?"

"Because he’s noble!" Miriel swooned, throwing her arms into the air. "He doesn’t do good deeds for cheap accolades or medals! He saves the women he cares about from the shadows, like a true tragic hero of the realm!"

Bren rolled her eyes so hard I thought they might get stuck in the back of her head. "Or because he’s a shady stalker who didn’t want Warden Clement asking him what he was doing in such a questionable place that is beneath his status."

"No, Bren! You don’t know anything, okay?!" Miriel argued.

Bren ignored her and rubbed her temples and let out a tired groan. "It’s three in the morning, Lira. I heard we have field training today, so we better sleep now or whoever our combat instructor is will make us carry boulders."

Bren marched back to her bed and blew out the candle, plunging the room into darkness. Miriel scrambled back to her bed, muttering sweet nonsense about armored wolf princes into her pillow.

I lay back down, staring at the dark wooden beams above my head.

Sleep was completely out of the question.

My mind was a chaotic mess. I hated lying to Bren and Miriel, and it ate at my conscience that I was keeping secrets from them. But more than that, I was thoroughly, deeply confused by my own treacherous body.

I was an initiate from the Stonewick trenches. I knew what it felt like to have a silly, fleeting crush on a handsome village boy. This was not that.

Ever since I arrived at this Academy, I had felt an unexplainable magnetic pull toward the royal princes.

I felt a breathless heat when Ivar touched my skin. I felt a magnetic pull when Raice claimed me in the shadows. I long for Remus in a way I can’t even put into words; after all, he was the boy from eight years ago. Even Zev’s intense, amber gaze made my pulse race in ways that made zero logical sense.

They were arrogant, dangerous, high-born nobles who treated commoners like chess pieces... so why did my blood react to them as if my soul were tethered to theirs?