Chapter 93: You Were Mine First

Chapter 93. You Were Mine First

The night came.

The Light Temple had gone quiet.

Moonlight poured through the high arched windows, painting the white marble corridors in pale silver while the last candles burned beneath statues of the Goddess. Most priests had already retired to their chambers. The occasional temple knight crossed a distant hallway, but otherwise the sacred complex slept.

Elia Seren did not.

She stood alone on one of the temple’s upper balconies, hands resting lightly against the white stone railing as she stared at the moon.

Raven and Garr had left that morning.

Neither had any reason to remain indefinitely in the Holy City, especially while nothing had been confirmed. They would return the moment news arrived that Rey had accepted the invitation.

If Rey accepted.

That single word irritated her more than she wanted to admit.

Darius remained nearby, although that was hardly suspicious. The Holy Knight Headquarters stood close to the Light Temple, and the Arclight family had worshipped here for generations. Darius had visited these halls since childhood. Nobody would question his presence.

Rey certainly couldn’t accuse them of gathering specifically for him.

Elia’s fingers tapped once against the railing.

She had already given Mira her instructions.

Invite Rey Valen to the Holy City.

Simple words.

A considerably more difficult task.

Mira couldn’t push too aggressively. Rey wasn’t stupid, and after the Temple’s increasingly open hostility toward him, suddenly begging him to visit would be about as subtle as leaving a poisoned dagger on his pillow.

It required patience.

An excuse.

Something convincing enough to bring Rey willingly within range of the Holy Relic.

Elia knew that.

She could wait.

Probably.

Her fingers tapped again.

Maybe.

The problem was that her intentions had changed.

Originally, killing Rey had seemed almost merciful.

If the curse had truly consumed him, if Dark Lord corruption had swallowed whatever remained of the Royal Magus they once knew, then eliminating him before he became another calamity was simply necessary.

That was what Elia had told herself.

Recently, however, the idea had begun tasting bitter.

She didn’t want Rey dead.

Not really.

She wanted him controlled.

Elia lowered her gaze from the moon.

She hated how ugly that thought sounded when stripped of every holy justification.

So she dressed it in prettier words.

"Contained."

"Stabilized."

"Guided."

The Temple was remarkably good at finding beautiful vocabulary for unpleasant necessities.

Yet tonight, alone beneath the moon, Elia didn’t bother lying to herself.

She wanted Rey somewhere he couldn’t keep walking away from her.

Her memories returned to the journey against the Dark Lord.

She had been the only woman among the Five Heroes, surrounded by four men who treated the Saintess as something precious. Garr carried things for her without being asked. Raven silently removed threats before they ever reached her. Darius protected her openly and proudly.

And Rey...

Rey had been different.

He remembered what she liked.

If she was tired, he noticed before she said anything. If her mana ran low, he adjusted formations so she could conserve it. If their supplies became scarce, somehow the sweeter fruit ended up in her portion.

Elia had liked that.

More than liked it.

She’d liked him.

Perhaps more than Darius.

That truth had become increasingly difficult to ignore.

Darius adored her loudly. Rey had cared quietly.

And Elia had always imagined that if Rey ever truly loved someone, he would give that person everything.

His loyalty.

His strength.

His mind.

His entire heart.

She had wanted to be that person.

Why shouldn’t she?

She was the Saintess.

People had prayed for her arrival before she was even old enough to understand what prayer meant. Priests bowed. Knights pledged themselves to her protection. Crowds cried when she healed their children.

Elia had spent her entire life being told she was beloved by the Goddess.

Somewhere along the way, she’d begun enjoying being beloved by everyone else too.

Then Rey Valen had looked directly at her and made it painfully clear that she wasn’t.

Not anymore.

Worse.

He hated her.

Elia’s nails pressed against the stone railing.

Strangely, that irritated her more than discovering he’d married five women.

Marriage could be explained.

Political arrangements.

Royal alliances.

Obligation.

A man could marry someone while loving someone else.

Five princesses meant nothing if his heart still belonged to her.

For years, she’d even found comfort in the distance Rey maintained from his wives. He had barely touched them. Barely trusted them. Barely let them close.

And perhaps the ugliest part was that Elia had secretly enjoyed seeing the pain it caused them.

She had seen it in their eyes whenever Rey pulled away. The disappointment Ariel carefully buried beneath her gentle smile. The hurt Lily covered with cheerfulness. The quiet frustration the others swallowed because they refused to abandon him.

They always tried to remain strong.

Elia had watched them and thought, with a satisfaction she would never dare confess inside these holy walls...

’Yes. He’s mine. Whatever you do, however patiently you wait, you will never touch his heart.’

Sometimes she’d almost wanted to say it directly to them. To smile at those five princesses and tell them that titles, marriages, beauty, and devotion meant nothing when the man they married still called another woman’s name in his darkest moments.

But she never did.

She hadn’t needed to.

Rey’s distance had spoken for her.

At least, that was what Elia had believed.

When the curse tore through him, whose name had he called?

Elia.

One Saintess against five princesses, and the Royal Magus had still reached for her when the pain became unbearable.

She had treasured that knowledge more than she should have.

Proof.

Proof that beneath the marriages, beneath the politics, beneath whatever obligations chained Rey to those women, there remained something only she possessed.

Then came the banquet.

Elia’s jaw tightened.

She had seen him with them.

Really seen him.

Not the distant cursed man she’d remembered.

He stood among his wives comfortably. He looked at them when they spoke. Allowed them near him. Smiled at them. Teased them.

That had hurt worse than his rejection.

Worse than watching him defeat Darius.

Worse than seeing Garr and Raven fail against him.

The Royal Magus who had once cried her name while drowning in agony had learned how to smile without her.

Elia hated that.

She hated it with an intensity that frightened even her.

Something changed.

Not slowly enough for her to prepare herself.

The pain Elia had once secretly seen in those women’s eyes was disappearing.

And somehow, impossibly, something else had taken its place.

Happiness.

Confidence.

Love that was finally being returned.

Everything had turned different.

And for the first time, Elia had been forced to wonder whether the woman standing outside Rey’s heart had never truly been one of his wives.

Maybe it was her.

Her fingers tightened around the railing.

"Rey..." she whispered.

Her eyes hardened.

"If you think this is over just because you’ve proven you’re stronger than us, you’re wrong."

The image of those five women surrounding him returned, making something ugly twist inside her chest.

"And if you think having those women changes anything..."

Her nails dug painfully into her palms.

"You’re mine."

The words slipped out before she could stop them.

"You were supposed to be mine forever."

Her breathing trembled.

Somewhere beneath the Saintess’s serene smile, resentment finally bared its teeth.

"How dare you betray me..."