ε????αε

  Chapter 11: Intermission in Limbo

  The voice of the Metal Faction had only just faded, sharp as hammered silver in the warm, earthen air of the chamber. A lingering hush held the gathered Cardinals in place; like a collective breath not yet released. All eyes slowly drifted toward the high dais where Vael Solmyre sat on the throne beneath the massive Erysha statues.

  She stood. The motion alone was enough to silence the rustle of robes and whispered thoughts. Her curly green hair, bound in coils like flowering vines, shimmered softly in the glow of bioluminescent moss overhead.

  “Let this council take pause,” she said, her voice calm but absolute. “The deliberations so far have stirred much... metal within us all.” A few chuckles rose from the Earth Faction’s section. Water’s Cardinals remained still. Metal scowled. Fire pretended disinterest.

  “Before the Water Faction speaks,” Vael continued, “I call for an intermission of breath and silence. Let each faction reflect on what has been said; and what still must be.”

  With a graceful nod, she stepped down from the dais, and the chamber responded in kind. Cardinals and attendants bowed or inclined their heads. The great doors at the back unfurled like the peeling of bark, and the factions began to flow out into the winding paths of the cathedral, their whispers trailing like mist.

  Vael did not follow them. Instead, she turned, disappearing into one of the veined corridors that bled off from the main chamber. Alone, she passed beneath draping moss and walls that pulsed faintly with the memory of life. Her steps were measured, but within her, her thoughts whirled like wind caught in roots.

  He will be mine.

  Not an idle desire. Not a whim. But a certainty blooming like nightshade in shadow. Sam Faeloc. Outsider, yes. Unaligned with any of the factions, yes. But not without purpose. Not without meaning. She had felt something in that moment when her lips touched his. Felt the strange stillness around him. The gravity. The factions will not understand. Not at first. But they will bend to the Solmyres, to her family. They always do.

  She imagined Sam standing beside her; hand in hand; cloaked in new robes, Their bond forged by vows older than any flame or tide. Husband. Consort. Chief and Chieftess of the Eryshae Tribe. Her anchor and her edge. Her loyalty would fulfill him. She would not take him by force, not like Fire or Metal might. No, she would earn it.

  She turned into a side chamber; high-walled and quiet. The roots here curved like ribs, cupping her in solitude. At last, she allowed herself to sit, sinking into a carved bench that bloomed petals beneath her weight.

  She closed her eyes briefly. Then opened them with a purpose. “Kinan,” she said aloud, knowing he was near. The tall silhouette appeared moments later, draped in the pale cloak of the Eryshae's Royal Guard. He bowed slightly. “My Lady.”

  “Bring me the four servants who tended to the Sam. The ones who fed him, brought him a bath to bathe himself, and brought him well fitted clothes.”

  “Yes, My Lady.” Kinan replied. “And begin drafting a formal summons,” she added, eyes narrowing. “For Sam Faeloc, have it delivered personally. No haste, let it arrive like a whispered secret; delicate, but impossible to ignore.” Kinan inclined his head and vanished without a sound. Vael remained still.

  The intermission had begun. But the next move belonged to her. The roots above her pulsed dimly, echoing the slowed heartbeats of a chamber exhaled. Silence unfurled like silk around Vael Solmyre, but her mind surged with branching thought.

  The Factions would debate sovereignty. They would argue over borders, rites, relics, and ancient privileges; while he walked through their midst like a cipher none could read. Not even she. Not yet.

  Her fingers grazed the petals of the living bench. They responded, curling upward as if reaching for her skin. Wood was always listening. She smiled faintly; Wood remembers everything.

  Sam Faeloc. A name that echoed through her thoughts with unexpected weight. There was something strange in him, something unrooted and untouched by the agendas of Fire or the pride of Metal. Something distant, quiet, and unspeakably lonely. A solitude she understood more than she cared to admit.

  She had kissed him, yes; but not out of impulse. Out of recognition. And when he had looked at her afterward, he hadn’t understood the robes of her position as the Princess. He had seen Vael. Not the title, not the legacy. Just her. She wanted to know what else he saw. What else he could see.

  A whisper touched the chamber’s entrance. Kinan returned, four figures trailing behind him. The servants. Young women, clad in bark-toned fabrics and leaf-stitches, each one marked with the subtle scent of moss and oils. One carried a woven basket. Their heads were bowed, reverent.

  Kinan gestured. They knelt. “My Lady,” murmured the girl in front. Vael rose. Her green curls swayed like vines touched by breeze as she moved toward them, calm as flowing sap.

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  “You tended the Outsider,” she said, voice smooth. “The man you were told to tend to in the Sacred Den. You brought him water. Food. Clothing.”

  “Yes, Your Grace,” the second girl said, lifting her eyes with hesitation. “Look at me,” Vael said softly. They obeyed.

  “What did he say?” They exchanged glances, unsure. “Very little,” said the basket-carrier. “He watched. Quiet. Thoughtful. Like he was counting the air itself.” The second added, “He thanked us. Every time. He took nothing for granted. Even the smallest cloth. He asked... what this place was.”

  “He didn’t act like he was owed anything,” said the third. “He stood when we entered. Even when we told him not to.”

  The final girl spoke with a dreamy hush. “He looked at us. Really looked. Not with hunger. Not with dismissal. Like we were worth seeing.”

  Vael said nothing at first. But inside, her thoughts curled tighter around the image of him. Unaligned. Unshaped. Untamed. A man like no other in this world of alliances and ancestry. She could fall for him; not as a faction leader. Not as the Court’s heir. But as Vael. She felt desire burn lower, and a warmth blushed towards her cheeks.

  He would come to her, and she would not drag him. She would draw him, as one draws breath; as ivy climbs sunlight.

  “You are not to speak of this beyond these walls,” she said at last. “Not to kin, nor lover, nor ghost.”

  “Yes, Lady Solmyre,” they whispered. She turned. Kinan nodded, dismissing them with a flick of his cloak.

  Once the chamber was hers again, silence settled like moss on stone. Vael remained still for a long while, hands loose at her sides, curls catching the dim glow from the walls.

  I could summon him.

  She considered it, toyed with the thought like a river stone in her palm. To summon Sam Faeloc would be simple. A word. A gesture. A summons sealed in the name of the Court.

  But it would be too soon. He was still unraveling. Still uncertain of where his footing lay. And she; she wanted him to find his way to her on his own. Not because protocol demanded it. Not because of rank. Because he wanted to.

  There’s something in him I don’t understand yet. Something quiet and careful... but strong. Like buried roots that haven’t decided whether to grow or wither.

  Vael moved slowly across the chamber, the vines shifting under her steps. She reached the wall and pressed her hand against it. The bark-thin surface responded, pulsing gently beneath her touch. Wood listened. It always did.

  Behind her, Kinan remained at respectful distance. “Tell me,” she said without turning. “What do you make of him?” Kinan’s pause was thoughtful. “He’s not what I expected.” She glanced over her shoulder, one brow lifted. “No?”

  “He listens more than he speaks. Doesn’t posture. Doesn’t preen. The Fire Faction would find that weak. But I don’t think he’s weak.”

  “No,” Vael agreed softly. “He isn't.”

  “He’s watching everything. Absorbing it. Like he’s deciding who we are before he decides who he is.” That brought a faint smile to her lips. “He reminds me of the trees that grow along the jagged cliffs,” Kinan added. “The ones that bend with the wind, but never break. You don’t notice them until a storm hits.”

  Vael turned fully now, regarding him. “And what would you do with a man like that?” Kinan shrugged, but there was respect in the motion. “I’d give him space. Let him grow where he chooses. Not where we plant him.” Exactly, she thought.

  “You’re not going to summon him,” Kinan observed. “Not yet,” Vael said. “Not while his roots are still deciding where to take hold.” She crossed back to the living bench and sat. The petals bloomed beneath her again, but she barely felt them. Her thoughts were a warm tangle, unruly and full of wonder.

  Let him explore. Let him question. Let him come to me not because I call him, but because the wind bends his steps this way. “I want him,” she murmured, barely audible. “Not as a prize. As my partner.” Kinan heard her, but said nothing. That, too, was why she trusted him. Vael tilted her head back, letting the mosslight play against her face. Not yet, Sam Faeloc. But soon.

  She let the silence hold her a little longer, the stillness of the chamber echoing with the unspoken weight of when. Not if. Not should. When… When she becomes his beloved wife.

  A breath drawn through her nose, slow and composed. The scent of moss, petals, and memory. She allowed herself to imagine his voice; what it would sound like in private, without the strange stiffness he wore like borrowed armor. Her lips parted slightly, her thoughts drifting to;

  A soft clearing of the throat interrupted her. Vael turned. Kinan stood just within the chamber’s entrance, head bowed in apology, his pale cloak catching the bioluminescence in pale threads. “Forgive the intrusion, My Lady.”

  She blinked once, slowly, then nodded for him to continue. “It is time,” he said. “The Cardinals have returned to the chamber. The Court of the Eryshae waits to resume.” Vael exhaled through her nose; not irritation, but reluctant acknowledgment. The moment of solitude had passed. The world was moving again.

  “Of course,” she said, voice composed. She reached for the carved wall beside her, letting her fingers graze the etched vines. “Let them whisper. Let them weigh their choices.” Kinan’s gaze remained steady. “Shall I walk you back?”

  She offered the barest smile. “No. Go ahead. I will enter last.” He bowed once more and left her.

  Vael lingered only a moment longer, letting her thoughts slip one final time toward Sam Faeloc. The quiet man caught in the maelstrom of factions and futures. The man she would not claim with force or fear; but with something deeper.

  Let them debate. Let them posture. My mind is already made. She stepped into the hallway, her robes whispering like vines in wind. And soon, he will know it.

  Vael walked the quiet corridor with purpose, the living walls curving around her like a cathedral grown rather than built. The moss beneath her feet was soft and steady, absorbing each footfall like the earth itself welcomed her return.

  The moment for reflection had passed, but the pulse of it lingered behind her eyes. She tucked the thoughts of Sam Faeloc away; not buried, but folded neatly, like a letter sealed but not yet sent.

  As she moved, she let herself slip fully back into the role she knew as well as breath: Princess of the Court. Daughter of Corven and Elowen Solmyre. Architect of peace; or war, if the factions demanded it. Each title rested on her like a mantle, but she wore them with elegance, not weight.

  The voices grew louder as she neared the great chamber; Cardinals murmuring, debating, repositioning alliances through words sharp as thorns and soft as silk. Vael heard the telltale cadence of Water’s delegation preparing to speak, their tone cool and tempered like moonlight on a still surface.

  She slowed just before the threshold, placing a hand briefly on the root-veined wall beside her. It pulsed faintly beneath her palm, alive and ancient. She closed her eyes. Inhaled once. Exhaled slower.