Chapter 4

I fastened the intricate silver clasps of the sapphire-blue silk gown. Kaelen bought it for our first anniversary. I stared at my reflection in the vanity mirror. My eyes burned red, but my jaw set like stone. Day Four. Time to cut the infection wide open.

I marched into the private dining room. Magical candelabras threw violent, flickering shadows across the long mahogany table. Kaelen sat at the head, swirling a glass of elven blood-wine.

I took my seat opposite him. I ignored the roasted pheasant on my gold-rimmed plate. I locked my eyes directly onto his.

"Kaelen. We need to talk about Lyra and the twins."

His wine glass froze in mid-air. The relaxed slant of his shoulders snapped rigid. He set the crystal goblet down with agonizing slowness.

"You know."

"I saw the bloodline registry on your nightstand," I said. My voice held steady, though my heart battered violently against my ribs. "I followed you to the southern manor yesterday. I saw all of you on the porch."

The candles crackled, spitting tiny blue sparks into the suffocating silence.

I leaned forward, digging my fingernails into my own palms to anchor myself to reality. "I need to know right now. Can we even continue this?"

He released a harsh breath. It carried zero guilt, only sheer inconvenience.

"Elara, you are my wife," Kaelen said. He picked up his knife, slicing into his meat as if we were discussing the weather. "That will never change. But men—especially men of my rank—have biological and magical needs. You sacrificed your magic core. You lack the mana to sustain a high-level bond. You should understand."

The sheer, suffocating arrogance of his words hit me like a physical blow to the stomach. The room tilted. I gripped the thick edge of the dining table, my knuckles turning stark white.

"Understand?" The word tasted like battery acid on my tongue. "If I say I absolutely refuse to accept sharing my fiancé with an elf?"

Kaelen threw his knife down. It clattered loudly against the porcelain plate. He glared at me across the table. "Grow up, Elara. We live in the real world. Every high-ranking Archmage and noble lord keeps mistresses. It’s the standard order of society. You keep your title. You keep the wealth and the protection of the Tower. Just do your duty as the Archmage's wife."

I shoved my chair back. The heavy wood screeched against the marble floor. "My duty? You expect me to play the blind, pretty decoration while you build a secret family in the woods?"

He waved his hand dismissively, his face twisting with deep irritation. "It works better for everyone this way. Stop making a mess out of nothing."

The air in the dining room turned toxic. I spun around and marched out into the cavernous grand hall. Kaelen’s heavy boots echoed right behind me, his frustration spiking his magical aura.

"I’m leaving," I snapped, turning to face him beneath the massive crystal chandelier. "I need to get out of this city for a while."

His arrogant composure completely shattered. His eyes widened, and he lunged forward, grabbing my wrist. His grip bruised my skin, fueled by raw panic and a desperate need for control. "Absolutely not! You are my fiancée. You stay exactly where I put you!"

I yanked my arm, but his magical strength easily pinned my mundane body in place. "And if I insist on walking out those doors?"

Kaelen’s face flushed dark red. The veins in his neck bulged against his collar. "Stop being so damn unreasonable! When are you going to drop this childish temper? You’re acting like an entitled brat, Elara! Do you want to humiliate me in front of the entire council?"

Unreasonable. Childish temper. Humiliate.

I stared up at his handsome, furiously twisted face. A sudden, sharp laugh clawed its way up my throat. I laughed out loud, the sound echoing harshly off the cold marble walls.

The blinding, suffocating rage simply evaporated. The man standing in front of me wasn't the boy I sacrificed my magic for. He was a stranger. A pathetic, greedy narcissist throwing a tantrum because his favorite toy threatened to walk away.

"You're right, Kaelen," I smiled, looking him dead in the eye. "I really should act more mature."

He instantly dropped my wrist. My smile thoroughly unnerved him. He sputtered, searching for his usual commanding words, but found nothing. He turned on his heel and stormed toward the main doors, slamming them so violently the stone walls vibrated.

I walked out onto the grand balcony. The freezing night wind whipped my hair across my face. I gripped the stone railing, watching the sky slowly bleed from black to a bruised purple, and finally to a brilliant, burning gold.

Dawn broke.

Footsteps shuffled behind me. The head butler stepped onto the balcony, holding a heavy velvet cloak. He wrapped it over my shivering shoulders, his eyes darting nervously toward the shattered remnants of Kaelen's magical aura lingering in the corridor.

"Madam," the butler whispered. "Do you require any assistance?"

I pulled the warm cloak tighter around myself. "I'm perfectly fine. Have the staff pack my travel trunks. I take a long trip tomorrow."

He bowed low and scurried away.

I looked back at the rising sun. My chest felt incredibly light. The festering wound in my heart finally stopped bleeding out. The terrible, suffocating knot of the past three years dissolved into nothing.

The next morning, I stood alone in my private study. I pulled the black market parchment from my pocket and crushed the obsidian crystal embedded in the center. Dark, heavy magic swirled around my boots, rapidly forming a breathing, physical replica of my body.

I touched the clone's cold cheek. Three days left on the countdown.

"Goodbye to my youth," I whispered to the empty room. "Goodbye to the Elara who loved like an absolute fool. From now on, I live entirely for myself."