Lily
The woods had always been my sanctuary, but lately, they'd become my forge.
For days, I'd been here—knee-deep in leaves, dirt clinging to my boots, and the faint hum of magic seeping from the very air. My hands were raw from drawing sigils into the ground, my energy stretched thin from holding barrier spells for hours. It wasn't glamorous work, not the kind of magic bards sang about. But it was mine.
The barriers I'd been building weren't just walls of power; they were lines between safety and chaos. With each layer of wards, I felt more in control and more untouchable. I could almost believe that nothing could breach them. Almost.
The truth was, the woods weren't quiet. I could feel the war pressing at their edges, a restless tension crawling beneath the soil. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw flashes; metal meeting magic, shadows twisting into shapes I didn't want to name. My wards were holding, yes, but for how long? I didn't let myself linger on that question.
Challenges came in different forms. Some days it was the strain of keeping my power steady; others, it was the unexpected; wild magic flaring against my will, or the wind carrying voices I didn't recognize. Once, a ripple passed through my barrier so strong that it felt like someone had knocked on my door from a thousand miles away. I never found out who.
Still, there were moments of quiet triumph. The first time my formation held through the night, I'd laughed aloud, startling a family of crows from the trees. The second time, I stood in the center of my circle until dawn, whispering to myself, You did it, Lily. You did it.
But victories have a way of making you visible. And visibility is dangerous.
I could sense eyes on me lately, watchful and patient. Not all enemies arrive with clashing swords and roars. Some wait for your guard to drop.
So I didn't drop mine. I worked until my bones ached, until the moon's light blurred into dawn's pale glow. And when I paused, leaning on my staff to catch my breath, I thought about him. About the way his voice would cut through the stillness, the way his presence might make these endless days feel less… empty.
The war might still come, the barriers might still fall, but somewhere beneath all the layers of magic and exhaustion, I knew I wasn't just fighting to keep the world out. I was fighting to keep something safe—for me, for him, for the fragile thread of hope I wasn't ready to let go.
***
It had been another week of relentless work, layers upon layers of wards etched into the earth until the forest itself seemed to hum with my magic. My hands still tingled from the last sigil, my hair smelled faintly of smoke from a fire that had gotten too close to the edge of a barrier. I hadn't had the time or the energy to check in on the shell I'd left in the palace.
But today, a tug in the back of my mind made me reach for her. The connection flared, sharp and sudden, and my breath caught.
Through her eyes, I saw him.
Elis.
He was standing in her chamber—my chamber—his frame filling the doorway before he stepped inside. My pulse quickened for reasons I refused to name. He wasn't supposed to be there. Not in her private rooms. Not after he'd promised me he would let her be the one to come to him.
And she—my shell—was smiling at him in a way I hadn't programmed into her. Subtle. Measured. But there was a softness to it, a tilt of the head, a glint in her eyes. I knew the language of those gestures. I'd worn them myself once.
My jaw tightened. That wasn't what I'd told her to do.
He moved closer. She laughed; light, airy, too much like a woman inviting someone to stay. I felt the burn of irritation in my chest, sharp and unbidden, and beneath it, something far worse. Jealousy.
I drew in a slow breath, forcing the emotion down. Elis wasn't out of place here. If anything, it made the illusion stronger; that I was still in the palace, still within his reach. And yet… if things went too far between them, if his hand so much as lingered where it shouldn't, the magic linking us could twist, bleed, ruin weeks of delicate work.
I waited until he finally left her chamber, his expression unreadable, and then I reached for her mind. "What do you think you're doing?" My voice in her head was sharp enough to cut.
She blinked once, startled, then answered evenly, "Nothing out of place, Lily. I've only been friendly, exactly as you instructed. I haven't gone to the king's chambers, and I've done nothing improper."
"That smile," I pressed. "The laugh. You're playing a role I didn't give you."
"I smiled because he was pleasant to me," she said, her tone maddeningly calm. "I laughed because Mira and Sera had told him something amusing before he arrived. If you saw seduction, perhaps it's because you know how you'd look at him."
The words hit harder than I wanted to admit. I let the silence stretch before I finally exhaled. "Keep it subtle. Keep it distant. The game only works if it never tips into temptation."
"Understood," she replied. And yet I could feel the faint curl of amusement in her mind, an echo of me, but not me.
I cut the link before she could say anything else, pressing my palms into my eyes until the afterimage of Elis standing in that room finally faded.
The barriers outside were holding. But inside, in the place I'd thought was safest, something was already shifting.