By the time Elena returned inside, the castle felt… quieter.
Not empty. That would have been easier to accept.
But quieter in a way that suggested something had shifted while she was gone. The corridors were the same, the light unchanged, yet the air carried a faint tension she hadn't noticed before. Or maybe she had, and only now had something to compare it to.
She closed the door behind her and leaned against it for a second.
"That was a mistake," she murmured.
She wasn't entirely sure she believed that.
Her body still held the memory of the woods—the sharpness, the strange clarity, the way everything had slowed just enough for her to react. It hadn't felt like panic.
It had felt… precise.
That was the part she couldn't ignore.
Elena pushed herself off the door and started down the corridor. She didn't bother trying to retrace a careful path this time. Instead, she moved with the same instinct she'd followed outside. Left when it felt right. Straight when it didn't.
It worked.
Or maybe the castle simply allowed it.
She passed a narrow alcove where a servant stood arranging folded cloth. The man—Lennox Bale, if she remembered correctly—glanced at her briefly, then returned to his work without a word.
No one asked where she had been.
No one seemed surprised she had gone.
That bothered her more than it should have.
Eventually, the corridors widened, the ceilings lifting higher. The stone underfoot shifted from rough to polished, worn smooth by time or something like it.
She slowed.
This part of the castle felt… closer to him.
She didn't know how she knew that.
She just did.
Elena stopped at the entrance to a long hall lined with tall windows. The same muted light filtered through, casting pale reflections across the floor.
At the far end stood Rowan Dacre.
He hadn't noticed her yet. Or if he had, he didn't show it.
He stood near one of the windows, his back partially turned, one hand resting lightly against the stone frame. He wasn't looking out—not really. His gaze seemed fixed somewhere beyond the glass, as though the view itself didn't matter.
Elena watched him for a moment.
There was something different about him now.
Not in appearance. He looked the same as before. Composed. Still. Controlled.
But the stillness felt tighter.
Like it was being held in place.
"You're back," he said.
He didn't turn.
Elena exhaled softly. "You always do that?"
"Do what?"
"Know where I am without looking."
A brief pause.
Then he turned.
His eyes found hers immediately.
"Yes," he said.
At least he was consistent.
Elena stepped into the hall, her boots echoing faintly against the stone.
"I went outside," she said.
"I know."
"Of course you do."
Rowan studied her for a moment longer than necessary.
"You shouldn't go alone," he said.
Elena crossed her arms lightly. "That sounds like concern."
"It's practicality."
"That's less comforting."
He didn't respond to that. His gaze shifted slightly, not away from her, but… over her. Taking in something beyond what she had said.
"You're not injured," he noted.
"No."
Another pause.
"You should be."
That landed differently.
Elena tilted her head. "That's not usually how people phrase relief."
"It wasn't relief."
"Then what was it?"
Rowan didn't answer right away.
Instead, he stepped away from the window, closing some of the distance between them. Not enough to feel threatening. Just enough to shift the space.
"You encountered something in the Briarwood," he said.
It wasn't a question.
"Yes."
"What did you see?"
Elena hesitated.
Not because she didn't want to answer. Because she wasn't sure how to.
"A shape," she said slowly. "Large. Wrong. It didn't… stay still properly."
Rowan nodded once, as if that confirmed something.
"And?" he prompted.
"It moved faster than it should have," she continued. "It almost had me."
"Almost."
There it was again.
That word.
Elena narrowed her eyes slightly. "You sound disappointed."
"I'm assessing."
"Try doing it less clinically."
He ignored that.
"What happened?" he asked.
Elena hesitated again.
Because this was the part that didn't make sense.
"It stopped," she said.
Rowan's gaze sharpened slightly. "Stopped."
"For a second. When I turned on it."
"How?"
"I don't know."
That was the truth.
She hadn't understood it then. She didn't understand it now.
"I just—reacted," she added. "And it… faltered."
The silence that followed stretched longer than any before it.
Rowan didn't move.
Didn't blink.
He simply looked at her.
And for the first time, Elena saw something in his expression that wasn't carefully measured.
Recognition.
Not surprise.
Not confusion.
Something deeper.
"That shouldn't have happened," he said quietly.
Elena let out a short breath. "I'm starting to hear that a lot."
His gaze didn't shift.
"No," he said. "You don't understand."
"Then explain it."
Another pause.
Then—
"No."
Elena stared at him.
"That's not helpful."
"It's not meant to be."
She let out a small, frustrated laugh. "You really are committed to this, aren't you?"
"To what?"
"Not telling me anything directly."
Rowan's expression settled again, that brief flicker of something gone as quickly as it had appeared.
"There are things you won't believe yet," he said.
"Try me."
"No."
Elena shook her head slightly, more tired of the pattern than the conversation itself.
"Fine," she said. "Then let me ask something simpler."
He waited.
"You don't eat."
It wasn't phrased as a question this time.
Rowan didn't react immediately.
But Elena saw it.
The shift.
Subtle, but there.
The tension in his posture. The way his fingers curled slightly at his side.
"I do," he said.
"No," Elena replied calmly. "You don't."
Silence.
He held her gaze.
She held his.
A long moment passed between them.
Then—
"You're observant," he said.
"That's twice you've said that."
"And it's still true."
"That doesn't make it an answer."
"No," he agreed. "It doesn't."
Elena stepped closer.
Not aggressively. Just enough to close the gap a little more.
"Then stop avoiding it," she said. "You don't eat. Your court doesn't eat. The food sits untouched like it's there for decoration."
Rowan didn't move.
Didn't step back.
But something in him tightened further.
"You're asking the wrong question," he said.
"Then what's the right one?"
He didn't answer immediately.
His gaze dropped briefly—not to the floor, not away—but to the side. As if considering something he hadn't planned to say.
When he spoke again, his voice was quieter.
"What do you think we are?" he asked.
Elena blinked.
That wasn't what she expected.
"I think," she said slowly, "that you're not entirely human."
The words hung in the air.
Rowan didn't flinch.
Didn't deny it.
He simply looked at her.
And for a moment—just a moment—his eyes deepened again. That same subtle shift, like something beneath the surface had stirred.
"Good," he said softly.
Elena felt her pulse pick up slightly.
"That's not a denial."
"No," he said. "It isn't."
Silence settled between them again.
He turned slightly, stepping back toward the window.
"You should rest," he said.
Elena almost smiled at that.
"You keep saying that."
"And you keep ignoring it."
"Because it doesn't feel necessary."
Rowan paused.
Then glanced back at her.
"No," he said. "It wouldn't."
That answer landed harder than the others.
Elena didn't respond right away.
Because something about it felt… too close to confirmation.
She watched him for a moment longer, then turned toward the corridor.
As she walked away, she felt it again.
That faint, sharp awareness.
Not from the woods this time.
From him.
It lingered at the edge of her senses, just out of reach.
And as she reached the end of the hall, Elena Whitmoor realized something she hadn't fully allowed herself to think before.
Whatever Rowan Dacre was—
He had recognized it too.