Chapter 15 - I can't do this.

  Lilia fumbled the stack of linens in her arms, nearly dropping half onto the stone floor. She caught them with a graceless twist, cheeks burning as the other maids glanced over. Her eyes ached, her steps dragged, and the hall swayed faintly with every turn.

  She was tired. No, tired didn’t even begin to cover it. She was utterly exhausted; she could hardly even think straight. With the Sol Festival inching ever closer, her days had blurred into a relentless stream of duties. Between endless preparations for the event and her private lessons with Ryn, she couldn't find the time to breathe, let alone be at the princess’s side. And that weighed on her most of all, because it was in moments like these, when Ariel needed her the most, that she was least able to be there.

  “Lilia, you okay?” one of the other maids called out, catching the tense look on her face.

  Lilia startled, nearly dropping the scrolls and fabric in her arms. “O-oh—y-yes, I’m fine! Perfectly fine,” she blurted out, too quickly. Her smile twitched at the corners, more nervous than reassuring.

  Her partner raised a brow, unconvinced, but said nothing. Lilia ducked her head, clutching the scrolls tighter to her chest. Her pulse thudded uncomfortably in her ears.

  “It’s probably because she’s been hanging around with that knight,” another maid chimed in, her voice sharp with certainty.

  Several others nodded in quick agreement.

  “The one who beat up a poor squire.”

  “The lowborn who wormed his way to the Princess’s side, and nearly got her killed.”

  “His schemes could ruin Solvara’s safety, mark my words.”

  The whispers overlapped, feeding each other until the air felt thick with judgment.

  Lilia’s grip on her scrolls tightened. Her throat bobbed, but she didn’t speak. She wanted to protest, to tell them they were wrong about him, but the words stuck like thorns in her chest. If she defended Ryn, they’d turn their whispers on her too.

  So instead, she lowered her head, cheeks warm, and let the gossip swirl around her like smoke she couldn’t breathe away.

  Another maid gave a huff, flicking her duster with finality. “It doesn’t matter. Once the Solvara Festival is over, we’ll finally be free from these endless duties. Maybe then we can even send letters back home to our families. If relations with Varghelm improve… well, perhaps things might finally change for us too.”

  The others murmured in agreement, their voices softening with the faintest trace of longing.

  With tensions against Varghelm rising, sending and receiving mail had become nearly impossible, especially in a remote location like Solvara. For Lilia, the silence stretched heavier with each passing week. It had been far too long since she’d written to her parents, and longer still since she’d heard their voices in ink. The distance felt less like miles and more like a wall.

  ***

  It was late.

  Ariel tried again.

  The prayers came out flat this time, hollow.

  Light flickered weakly across her palms, then stuttered, twisting out before it even formed.

  Her breath hitched. She tried once more, harder, forcing the shape through trembling fingers. The result was worse. The white sparked once, sharp and wrong, before dying entirely.

  Her hands fell to her lap.

  Nothing. Not even warmth.

  For a long moment, she just stared at them, the silence pressing close around her.

  Then her jaw tightened, and the whisper escaped, cracked and raw.

  “Why won’t it work?”

  The silence that followed was deafening.

  She sank slowly onto her bed, the chill of the room settling deep into her bones.

  Her eyes lingered on the last of her mother’s gifts: a delicate gold necklace that lay lonely on her desk. Its soft gleam caught the candlelight, fragile and accusing all at once.

  She hadn’t felt like this in a long time.

  The quarrel with her father still pressed heavy in her chest, each word echoing back at her sharper than the last. His voice, his expectations, his iron certainty, they all still rang in her ears.

  Her hands curled into her skirt as another memory intruded, unbidden. Ryn. The way she’d spoken to him afterward. He hadn’t deserved that.

  Ariel drew a tight breath, pressing her palms against her eyes. Why did she do it? He hadn’t done anything wrong. He was simply there, and she had let her temper spill over him like he was the cause of it all.

  It was childish. Shameful.

  Since then, she’d been ignoring him, not because she truly wanted to, but because facing him meant facing her own shame

  ‘Powerless.’

  The word dug in like a thorn. That was what she was. Not the endless demands, not her father’s commands;that was nothing new. No, what gnawed at her was this helplessness, the truth that she couldn’t change any of it.

  And so she lashed out. At the wrong person. Again.

  Her gaze drifted back to the necklace, her chest tightening. What am I supposed to do…?

  The silence that answered her was heavier than words, the stillness of the room pressing in as though even the air passed judgment.

  ***

  Ok, this is becoming ridiculous.

  It had only been a few days since Lilia warned him about the growing rumours, yet already Ryn felt branded an enemy of the state. Dense as he was, Ryn could tell something had changed.

  Everywhere he went, suspicion followed him like a shadow. Between one lesson and the next, squires and knights seemed to treat approaching him as some sort of rite of passage.

  Between the endless classes and lessons, Ryn’s nerves were wearing thin. What began as irritation was fast becoming absurd, dodging squires in the halls, bowing at the right angle for the tenth time, mastering noble talk till it felt natural. Slowly, almost against his will, the drills began to stick. His posture straightened, his steps grew sharper, and even the etiquette tutors found less to scold him for. Still, the constant grind gnawed at him, every improvement tasting more like survival than triumph.

  As with Ariel after their argument, the two had spoken little, each pretending as if nothing had happened, though the air between them said otherwise.

  He had begun to notice the signs of wear on the princess. Her eyes were shadowed, her skin paler than usual; it was obvious she had been pushing herself, far past what was reasonable. He had tried, clumsily, to offer comfort. Words like “Don’t push yourself too hard” always slipped out awkwardly, more like half-formed advice than real comfort, and each time she brushed him off.

  Between the endless classes, the private lessons, and the constant sense that he was failing her as a guard, the weight of it pressed on him more than he cared to admit.

  Ryn fell back against the bed, staring up at the ceiling as if it held the answers. But all it gave him was silence.

  “Useless,” he muttered under his breath.

  After lying on his bed for who knows how long, Ryn slowly realised that it was getting late and he had yet to hear the familiar knock of Lilia at his door. Of all the guidance he’d received since arriving at the palace, hers had been the most constant. Patient, steady, and quietly persistent, she had carried him through the worst of his blunders. If not for her, he would still be fumbling over basic greetings.

  That was why, when Lilia didn’t show up, Ryn felt an odd tug of worry. She wasn’t the sort to miss a lesson, especially not with the ball so close. For someone usually so punctual, so quietly determined to see him improve, her absence rang loud.

  He lingered only a moment before making up his mind. If she had spent weeks keeping him on track, then the least he could do was return the favor. Just this once, he’d check on her.

  However, when Ryn approached the wing where the maids were busy with their endless work, he began to quickly question that decision.

  The air was thick with chatter, the kind that dropped in volume, almost to a halt, the moment he came into view.

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  Brushes stilled, hands paused mid-fold, and more than a few pairs of eyes slid toward him with the kind of sharp, knowing glances that spoke of rumors carried far and fast.

  Ryn frowned. He had walked into battlefields with less hostility than this hallway.

  “Uh,” Ryn began, clearing his throat awkwardly, “do any of you know where I co—”

  “Bold of you to show your face here, boy,” a sharp voice cut through his words. A maid, probably around Kael's age or older, stepped forward with her arms crossed. She didn’t even bother to mask the disdain in her eyes.

  Her eyes narrowed.

  “Whispers say you’re dragging the Princess into your schemes, and now you come sniffing around the servants’ wing? What’s next, convincing us poor maids to kneel and call you lord?”

  I haven’t even done anything, Ryn thought, baffled. Half the time, I can’t even get a word in around her.

  A few of the younger maids stifled giggles at her jab, though the tension in the air was unmistakable. She didn’t pause, pressing harder.

  “Tell me, Knight, do you enjoy the mess you’ve made? Because while you strut about with your head high, it’s our Princess who pays the price for your reputation.”

  Ryn exhaled slowly, “Apologies,” he said, tone even but clipped. “I’m not here to cause trouble. I’m just looking for a maid, Lilia. She serves the Princess.”

  The moment her name left his mouth, a ripple passed through the gathered maids. Their hands stilled on fabric, brooms, and ledgers; whispers stirred almost instantly.

  “Lilia?”

  “Of course it’s her.”

  “He’s dragging her into this now?”

  “The poor girl…”

  The older maid’s eyes narrowed, sharp as glass. “So that’s it,” she said, voice low but carrying. “You’ve already entangled the Princess, and now you’re pulling one of her maids into whatever schemes you’re running? How shameless.”

  The murmurs swelled, feeding on one another until the whole corner of the hall seemed to hum with quiet judgment.

  I’m just looking out for someone… that’s all, he thought, the words echoing in his head. But to them, it already looked like something else entirely.

  Ryn’s eyes narrowed slightly, though his voice stayed even. “Like I said, I’m just looking for her. Nothing more.”

  But the crowd wasn’t buying it. A younger maid stepped forward, arms crossed tightly. “What could you possibly want with Lilia? She’s already run ragged with preparations. Haven’t you done enough damage without pulling her into your mess?”

  Another joined in, lips pursed. “If you care so much, why don’t you stop lurking around us and go back to your training? That’s what knights are supposed to do, isn’t it?”

  The words pressed down like stones, one after the other, each sharper than the last. Ryn kept his face blank, but his patience thinned at the edges.

  Then, from the back of the group, a hesitant voice piped up.

  “If you’re looking for Lilia… she was sent to the wine cellar.”

  The words slipped out like an accident, and instantly the hall went still. Every pair of eyes snapped toward the maid who’d spoken, wide with disbelief.

  “Why would you—?”

  “Are you mad?”

  “Don't tell him that!”

  The girl shrank back under their stares, stammering, “I-I didn’t mean, I just thought-”

  But it was too late. The secret was out.

  Ryn tilted his head, studying the flustered maid. His voice came quietly, almost flat. “The wine cellar?”

  With that, Ryn turned on his heel and started down the corridor, boots striking the stone floor in steady rhythm. He didn’t bother sparing the maids another glance.

  The group broke into a stir behind him, voices rising in panic and anger.

  “Wait—! You can’t just—! Who do you think you are?”

  A few even called after him, their protests echoing down the hall. But Ryn didn’t slow, didn’t stop. If anything, the noise only made his pace quicker, his expression more set.

  The wine cellar.

  What business would Lilia possibly have there?

  ***

  As Ryn stepped into the room, the heavy scent of alcohol washed over him. It was a smell he hated, one that pulled him back to Eldric without mercy. For a moment, he almost turned to leave, but then he heard it: the sound of someone shifting among the racks.

  He stepped inside, eyes adjusting to the dim light. At first, he thought the cellar was empty, until he spotted a figure sprawled on the floor.

  “…Lilia?” he called.

  Her head lifted slowly, cheeks flushed red, hair silver slightly mussed. She waved a hand weakly. “Shhh! You’ll wake the grapes.”

  Ryn blinked. “…The grapes?”

  “They’re sleeping,” she said with a solemn nod, only to hiccup right after. “Hard workers. Don’t disturb them.”

  Ryn stood there for a second, frozen

  Lilia, responsible, level-headed Lilia—was drunk.

  Not tipsy. Not flushed from a bit of wine. Drunk.

  Ryn could only stare for a long, stunned moment.Of all the things he’d expected to find in the wine cellar tonight, this hadn’t even made the list.

  He crossed the floor, stopping just a step away. “Of all the places to take a nap, you pick the floor of a wine cellar?”

  “It’s not a nap,” Lilia protested, her words slurring into each other. “It’s… research. Very important research.”

  “And how’s that going for you?” Ryn said flatly.

  She grinned brightly. “Terrible.” Then tipped sideways and nearly toppled over.

  Ryn sighed and crouched down beside her.

  He steadied her as she tried to sit up. “Be careful. ”

  Lilia groaned, burying her face against her sleeve. “I didn’t… I didn’t mean to drink so much.”

  “Really,” Ryn said dryly. “You just tripped, and a whole barrel rolled into your mouth?”

  Her head snapped up, eyes wide. “N-no! That’s not-” she broke off with another hiccup. Her cheeks burned hotter than the wine. “I spilled some, okay? It was an accident. And if anyone saw, I’d be in so much trouble, so I thought—” she stammered, searching for the words—“I thought if I just… drank it, then no one could tell it spilled.”

  Ryn stared at her, expression flat. “Your solution to spilling alcohol… was to drink all of it?”

  She jabbed a finger at him, though her aim was off by a good few inches. “Don’t look at me like that! I was tired, It made sense at the time.”

  He let out a long exhale. “You’re unbelievable.”

  Her shoulders slumped, the bravado draining as quickly as it had come. “I know,” she muttered, voice small. “I’m supposed to be responsible. Ariel counts on me. And here I am, lying on the floor, drunk off my head like some… useless idiot.”

  Ryn crouched beside her. “You’re not useless.”

  Lilia blinked at him, her expression wobbling between disbelief and wine-fueled indignation. “That’s easy for you to say. You’re the princess’s knight. You don’t know what it’s like to… to want to be there for someone and not have the power to do anything, to feel weak and powerless.”

  He frowned, thinking for a moment before answering. “I do know. More than you think.”

  “But Ariel trusts you,” Ryn went on, voice steady. “I watched her do it. If you were useless, she wouldn’t.”

  She leaned her head back against the wine cask, eyes unfocused on the ceiling. Her voice dropped, thinner, quieter.

  “That’s… that’s what scares me the most, Ryn.” Her words came out uneven, the wine softening her consonants. “I think she—” she hiccuped lightly, pressing a hand to her mouth “—I think she’d trusts me no matter what I'd do. No matter how many times I'd trip, she’d still… still choose to.”

  Her fingers curled tighter around the hem of her skirt until her knuckles went white. She stared down, blinking too fast. “And I… I don’t… I don’t know if I can live with that.”

  She leaned her head against the wine cask, staring at the ceiling.

  A silence settled between the two, before she spoke again.

  “Do you know how I first met Ariel?”

  Ryn tilted his head in confusion.

  “She’s… she’s the only one who ever looked at me and saw more than just a maid,” Lilia whispered, her voice trembling between fondness and alcohol-loosened honesty.

  “When I first came here, I was terrified. Didn’t know the rules, didn’t know how to even breathe in a place like this. One of the senior maids caught me fumbling with the silverware, snatched the tray from my hands, and said I was useless, that I’d be gone before the week was out.”

  Her lips wobbled into a faint, fragile smile. “And then Ariel walked in. She was just a girl, younger than me, but she looked at that maid like… like she was the fool, not me. Ariel said, ‘If she leaves, I’ll go too!’ Can you believe that? A princess, threatening to storm off for the sake of a clumsy servant she didn’t even know.”

  Ryn blinked, picturing it. “Sounds like her.”

  Lilia shook her head, blinking fast as her words spilled out. “They laughed at me, scolded me, told me I was nothing. But she… she made me feel like I belonged. Like I wasn’t invisible. How do you not want to protect someone like that, Ryn? How do you not want to give everything back to her?”

  She let out a soft, shaky laugh. “Ever since then, I swore I’d never let her down. She deserves someone who won’t leave her. And if I can be that, even if it’s just as her invisible maid, then that’s enough for me.”

  Her words hung in the air, fragile and too honest to have been spoken sober.

  Ryn didn’t know what to say. He looked at her and stayed quiet.

  The cellar had gone silent again, except for the faint drip of a leaky cask somewhere in the corner. Lilia sat slumped, her earlier rambling tapering into silence, the wine haze settling heavy in her eyes.

  Ryn crouched across from her, not close enough to crowd her, but not so far that she felt alone. For a long moment, neither spoke.

  Then Lilia exhaled, the sound shaky. “Sorry… you weren’t supposed to hear any of that.”

  Ryn shook his head.

  “You haven’t let her down.”

  “Not once”

  Her lips pressed together, trembling like she might laugh again, but the sound never came. Instead, her gaze dropped to the floorboards. “I just… I don’t want her to be alone. That’s all.”

  He didn’t answer this time. Just held her eyes for a moment, then gave a single, steady nod.

  Something in Lilia’s shoulders loosened at that, like a knot finally giving way. She leaned back against the cask with a soft thud, blinking hard. “You… really are impossible, Ryn.”

  His silence lingered, and for some reason, it was enough.

  Her eyes slid shut, her breathing evening out, the fight in her words fading into exhaustion. She looked almost peaceful now, like all the weight she carried had finally tipped off her shoulders for a moment.

  Ryn sat there for a while, watching over her in the cool quiet of the cellar, his mind uncomfortably full. He wasn’t sure what troubled him more, the gossip that had spread through the palace, or the thought of how much Ariel’s maid carried on her back just to keep the princess smiling.

  When at last he stood to leave, it was with the faintest whisper to himself.

  “You’re not the only one who doesn’t want her alone.”

  That night, Ryn walked the castle’s hallways, his footsteps echoing faintly against the stone. His mind replayed the conversation with Lilia. Both she and Ariel carried more than they ever admitted. He’d seen it now, up close.

  And if they broke under it? Then what? What use would his sword be if the people he guarded collapsed from within? He exhaled slowly. No, he couldn’t let that happen.

  So he made up his mind.

  He was going to Ariel, not because circumstances forced them together. This time, it would be his choice. It would be because he—her knight—would not look away.