Elena avoided Soren successfully for an impressive thirty-six hours.
Which, given the size of the citadel and the fact that he moved like a silent murder-cat, was practically a Guinness World Record.
But she did it.
She woke early, slipped out before breakfast, and headed straight for the training grounds — not with a dagger, but to run.
In her world, running had solved everything:
Bad day at the hospital? Run.
Failed exam? Run.
Sentient northern prince whose silence felt like a knife?…Run faster.
So she tied her hair back, ignored the frost biting her lungs, and sprinted across the packed snow.
Except—
Footsteps followed her.
Four sets.
Synchronized.
Like her own personal boyband of overqualified bodyguards.
"Elena!" came a voice behind her — Eris, too cheerful for someone armed. "Slow down! You're not supposed to be escaping anything today!"
"I'm not escaping!" she called over her shoulder.
"You say that," Eris panted, "but you are… remarkably fast for someone who almost died four weeks ago."
Elena groaned. "I'm clearing my head."
Another Sentinel, jogging beside Eris without breaking a sweat, muttered, "That is what prey says before running into the woods."
"I AM NOT PREY!"
The fourth Sentinel coughed politely. "With respect, my lady… you keep evading us."
Elena stopped running and spun to face them.
All four halted immediately, as if choreographed.
Eris held up both hands in surrender. "We just—uh—didn't want to lose you again. Soren would kill us. And then revive us. And then kill us again."
One of the four sentinel nodded soberly. "He has done it before."
"WHAT?!"
"Figuratively," Kael amended.
Eris leaned in. "Mostly."
Elena pressed her hands to her face. "I need privacy."
"We can stand farther away," Eris offered helpfully.
One of the Sentinels added, "But not too far. You tend to cause chaos."
"I DO NOT CAUSE CHAOS!"
All four Sentinels exchanged a look that translated to:Yes, she does. Gods help us all.
...
Later, Elena escaped to the healer's garden — a quiet semi-enclosed courtyard full of herbs, medicinal plants, and questionable mushrooms.
Her sanctuary.
Except—
Footsteps.
Again.
Eris poked his head around a shrub. "Hi."
She closed her eyes. "Why are you in the basil."
"Protective proximity."
"You are hiding. Inside the basil."
Eris considered this.Nodded.
"Stealth."
She grabbed a sprig of silverleaf and inhaled deeply before her brain could combust.
Eris squinted. "Careful."
"I KNOW WHAT I'M DOING."
"Plants here are tricky," one of the older Sentinels warned. "Some of them behave… unpredictably."
Elena froze mid-sniff. "…Unpredictably how?"
Eris leaned close, whispering, "One exploded last winter."
"What do you MEAN, exploded?!"
"Not like fire," he assured her. Then frowned. "…Mostly."
She put the silverleaf down.
Gently.
Very gently.
...
Still, studying helped. Focusing helped.
She took notes. She mapped leaves. She smelled things carefully.
The Sentinels hovered ten meters away.
Eris was lecturing the others: "She once escaped all four of us simultaneously. Imagine the shame."
One Sentinel murmured, "It will not happen again."
Elena sighed. "I can hear you."
Eris brightened. "Good! Then you know we're doing our job."
She groaned into her hands.
"I just want to learn herbs."
"Then learn," Eris said, leaning against a tree. "We will supervise. Supportively."
She tried to grab a handful of round violet berries.
Three Sentinels gasped.
"Not those," one warned.
"They explode internally," whispered another, reverent.
Elena dropped them like hot coals. "WHY IS EVERYTHING HERE EXPLOSIVE?!"
Eris shrugged. "Welcome to the North."
...
She almost relaxed.
Almost.
Then a shadow crossed the garden path.
Her chest tightened before she even looked.
Soren.
Walking with two advisors and the southern envoy. Cloak immaculate. Expression sealed. Every inch of him the cold, distant prince she apparently knew again.
He didn't look at her. Not once.
Not when he passed the garden. Not when Eris panicked and flung leaves into the air like camouflage. Not even by accident.
He moved past like she was weather. Like she was irrelevant.
Something inside her finally cracked—not loudly, not dramatically.
Cleanly.
She straightened anyway.
If he could choose silence, she could choose action.
Because suddenly, painfully, the truth settled in her bones:
She could not stay here waiting to be managed. Contained. Protected into nothingness.
If this world could discard her so easily, then maybe it was time to leave it.
The thought struck hard and terrifying—and right. The Rift. The stones.
If they could be activated…If there was a way back…
Her chest ached at the idea of home—real coffee, familiar skies, friends who didn't negotiate her existence in council chambers.
And yes—leaving him.
That part hurt the most.
Eris stepped beside her, gentle. "You're doing well."
She blinked. "What?"
"You haven't caused chaos in almost two minutes."
She huffed a weak laugh. "A personal record."
But her mind was already elsewhere.
At the border. At the stones. At the unanswered question of whether she belonged here at all.
If she was going to be alone either way—
She would choose it on her own terms.
Elena stood, brushing soil from her hands. Decision made.
And somewhere deep beneath the citadel, the Rift waited.