Dinner felt slow and painful.

Iliya felt her knuckles burning with tension as she gripped the fork in her hand with an intensity she couldn't control.

With the Royals from different countries lining their lengthy table, she thought she might be able to escape the awkward ignorance as everyone spoke around her but not to her.

Luck had offered enough distraction that her distant cousins from Solraidas were barely aware of her presence. Including Lord Turrian whose upper left cheek had mostly healed despite the light tinge of red.

He avoided looking at her most of all.

Even the King of Azuris shared some riveting conversation with her mother toward the head of the table.

She might have been okay with everyone pretending she didn't exist if Sorein had shown up. His seat across from her had remained empty for the last half hour, the clean plate and undisturbed silverware bothering Iliya. Even if he hadn't spoken to her outloud, she could imagine him making jokes about the numerous pompous men and women surrounding them.

Instead, she was alone.

For a while, her imagination kept her busy as she quietly ate and sipped at her sparkling cider, which tasted more like carbonated water the longer her ice melted.

Jeremy and Noah hadn't attended the dinner either.

Leading Iliya to wonder what in Heilos name she was even doing here as Rhydian began describing an incident he'd had near the city gates. He'd mentioned a few minor details to her once, many involving a strange darkness taking over these men and possessing them to break into Chiori.

"I've never seen a human come so close to escaping me," Rhydian explained with a huffed laugh, as if remembering the challenge pleased him. Iliya was certain he wasn't provoked within the country itself. "I wonder how his swim through the Yinae treated him."

It was a trick question of course.

No one could make it a mile through the salt and brine, let alone with the amount of ammunition Rhydian claimed the human had on him.

With no magic, it would've taken ten minutes to drown despite the possession.

"Do you know what his plan was?" her mother asked, dragging herself away from her own conversation. "When he got into the city-" she added. "-were the remains ever recovered?"

"One of my men found the body washed up on the shoreline this morning," Rhydian answered, seeming to pause for a moment. "We don't know if it disturbed anyone at the Ceremony, but we haven't received any reports either."

Iliya tried and failed to hold back a snort of laughter and paled when he threw a glare in her direction.

"Find something funny, Phrina?" Rhydian asked, his voice a quiet rumble of annoyance.

Iliya scowled but blinked away the reaction. It had been the one he'd sought, given the tiny spark of amusement that slipped into those hazel eyes.

The flickering firelight from the chandelier above reflected from the watercolor swirls of autumn lurking inside those irises. She watched the golds and greens darken, his eyes lifting from her, to the others at the table.

Most hadn't even looked at her, as if she were nothing more than a ghost.

A hollow feeling ached in her chest, making her consider. "Perhaps if you hadn't slept all day, you'd be more informed," Iliya mused aloud.

This drew the intention of the room, the royals tossing snide glares in her direction. She wouldn't normally tease her cousin in public, not in front of the royal heads.

"Where exactly have you been then, Princess?" The Lord of Teresii asked.

She swallowed uncomfortably when her eyes landed on Lord Turrian. Perhaps opening her mouth had been a poor judgment on her part, though she still hadn't entirely regretted it.

Manners were her gift, not his.

"I've been quite unwell the last few days," Iliya answered, smiling politely. The ice in her voice ruffled several feathers across the table, even Rhydian and Destry sat up straighter. Watching. "I didn't want to miss company."

Riven's eyes, the darkest sort of brown and black, narrowed on her. "You appear well enough to me."

"I had the good fortune of a swift recovery," Iliya agreed, nodding as if he meant to wish her well. "What of your cheek, My Lord? Are you alright?"

Lord Turrian's eyes flashed around the room as several people now watched him, honing in on the smudges of purple still lining the high point between his cheek and eye. He didn't seem to be hiding it before, but the more attention she drew to it, the more he shifted inside the polished black chair. He continued gripping his fork as if it were some odd lifeline.

"How did you get hurt?" she asked again. Daring him. Baiting him into admitting she'd slammed through his defenses.

Instead Riven gave her a slashing smile that revealed more teeth than pleasure. "Training," he said tightly.

"Hopefully you've been working on your stamina," Rhydian cut in, laughing through his quiet rage.

Iliya released a lengthy breath, completely unsure of when she'd started holding it. She blinked her gratitude to her cousin, though she didn't catch if he noticed.

As quickly as their attention came to her, it slipped away, back to Rhydian.

Her eyes continued wandering around the room. Andrin's gaze was on the empty chair and plate in front of her. To his left, Marceline Sagefell from Nynoli. Around the table's curve went a few other names, two princesses. One from Taeori Rainne, the other Draiwyld.

For all his effort, Iliya knew Rhydian would continue to stare at Elosea Nydarian. Her auburn hair rippled down behind her in large waves, glints of copper shining through just as they did in the very forests outside mount Agonii.

She wore a simple, formed gown hugging against her curves and falling shapeless on the ground. Cobalt blue, highlighting those glacial eyes.

As children, Elosea mostly stuck to herself. Several of her family members were taken to Mount Agonii and ambushed. The shadows of it still haunted her gaze, even ten years later.

She was so young.

Iliya knew she seldom spoke, rarely engaging in anything other than what her surviving father might ask of her. Elosea once was a very kind, well-spoken individual. Still quiet, but death plagued her heart.

The stories crossed the seas in spurts. Mixed signals between rebellion and possession.

Her cousins often claimed something tainted the magic that day.

If not the land.

A dark figure slipped into the room and Iliya found her grandfather taking a seat at the head of the table beside Destry. Ezre's eyes were glazed over, whirling with exhaustion and frustration. They focused in on her for a moment, a brow raising slightly.

She was confused by the expression, but his attention soon honed in on Andrin.

The empty plate in front of Iliya irked her, the silence around her festering. Even the Therian Lady of Medeis didn't speak to her, listening to the Kings exchange words near the head of the table.

Eavesdropping.

So Iliya took the chance, gently easing her seat out from under her and clearing her plates. No one looked.

She pushed in her chair and bowed, addressing the table accordingly even as they continued on.

Just as she pivoted and stepped away from the table, she noticed Rhydian's snagged gaze. Still, she disappeared into one of the side corridors, following a spiral staircase out of the main dining hall and into the large entryway.

There were so few spaces for someone to slink away unnoticed in this estate, Iliya knew that.

So she wandered to the last place anyone would find her and the first place she'd ever known someone to escape.

Iliya pushed through large doors into a gorgeous Stellarium, with plush carpeted floors and a ceiling of stars. Desks lined the walls, polished dark wood glinting in the dark. Historical paintings took up a few places on the walls, maps and portraits, all resembling a time when the Gods shared the lands. Night breathed to life, the room only illuminated by starlight and the moon above. Expansive, sweeping windows spread over the roof, replacing any need for lanterns.

Just enough to reveal the tall figure leaning over the oak railings.

His suit jacket was folded and slung haphazardly over the beam, one elbow pinning it down so it might not fall.

Sorein didn't move when she shut the doors behind her, her featherlight steps soundless as she closed the distance between them.

Iliya knew he'd heard her, knew he wouldn't flinch from her presence.

So she found herself coming to lean against the rails, her forearms bracing her. The opening in the floor looked out over every single floor to their library, eventually revealing the Aphyre's black point near the bottom.

Floors and Floors of books and files swirled beneath their feet.

"Have you been here all evening?" she murmured, afraid to break the comforting silence. The words came out colder than she'd intended.

His head tipped down to look at her, those gray eyes shining silver in the darkness. Vacancy washed their color away, stones looking down at her. Smooth and cold, paling.

Sorein's lip twitched slightly, but the words he considered seemed to be lost quickly.

Iliya felt her gut twisting and wringing itself out with tension, her hands grasping the railing. "You should eat," she said, though she wasn't sure why.

His lip tugged upward again for a moment, this time almost a half smile.

His gaze slowly dragged away from her face again, searching the books below as if they were answers to a century old question. Sorein let his head drop completely, sagging between his shoulders as he sighed.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Iliya asked, frowning. She'd never seen him so dejected, so lost. Her heart sped, beginning to pound rhythmically at first. She needed to make it better.

She needed to soothe the shallow, broken edges in his eyes.

Instead, he laughed. Sorein's laugh was a soft breath of cold, hopelessness Iliya wasn't certain she'd ever heard before.

Certainly not from him.

It was brittle and empty.

"Yes," he whispered back, peeking up at her through the dark waves of his hair. "But I can't."

"I can keep a secret," she answered.

He chuckled again. "Even if you could use the information to get back at me? To make us even?"

Iliya's heart shuddered and clenched. She felt her cheeks warming in response.

He didn't trust her.

Holding his gaze felt like standing in the eye of his hurricane, watching pieces of the world get swept away. Her knees weakened.

Those stormy irises flickered down to stare at her hands, particularly the left lined with rings and chains and the burn still etched into her flesh.

He didn't trust her and perhaps he was right.