CHAPTER 155: THE ODDNESS

Aelin

The hall was still, the tension thick. I sat beside Draegon at the long obsidian table, my fingers loosely intertwined in my lap as the Owl Advisor—a tall, stooped creature with round eyes far too perceptive for comfort—cleared his throat.

"Your Majesty," he said, directing his gaze to Draegon. "The missing persons reports are continuing to climb. Patrols are already in place, but... it isn’t slowing."

A murmur of disapproval fluttered through the council chamber.

Vesper, lounging half across her chair with her usual casual elegance, let out a long sigh. "How are people still going missing with so many patrols out already? What are they even doing?"

"They’re leaving," Draken said, his voice hard and flat. "Of their own will. They’re still chasing the promise of power."

I glanced toward him. His crimson eyes were narrowed, unreadable. "You mean the black milk."

He nodded. "The black milk. The corrupted cores. The Abyss. They don’t realize it’s all a trap. They’re not just being recruited—they’re being prepared. Used. We know now that many of them are meant to be sacrificed to open more gates."

My stomach twisted. How far would people go for strength? How many more would disappear before they understood?

"We need to do something about it," I said firmly, sitting forward. "We can’t just wait for more bodies to turn up in uncanny places or never turn up at all."

Draegon’s gaze slid toward me, his nod slow. "We will. I agree."

One of the other advisors—a short demon with curling ram-like horns and sharp, pinched features—spoke next. "We must show the people the truth. Show them what’s really happening. If we don’t let fear fester, they’ll keep walking into the dark with open arms."

Draegon considered that in silence. Then he said, "There’s still a high chance something remains in the underground ruins... something we missed." His eyes shifted to Drakkar, as if he was about to task him—but he paused. Thought better of it.

Instead, he turned to Draken. "I want you and Vesper to go down there again. Investigate it thoroughly. Don’t leave a single corner untouched."

"Alright," Draken said, already standing.

Vesper’s eyes shone and she stood too. "I hope we find the bastards there! I’m itching to burn them."

My lips twitched, but I didn’t speak.

Instead, my gaze drifted across the room, where Drakkar stood near the window, arms crossed, face unreadable. On the other side stood Ariston, rigid and still, as if he’d rather be anywhere else. They weren’t looking at each other. Weren’t even pretending to.

The image of Vesper rubbing Drakkar’s hair the other day came to mind. And then the massage we planned for a petty revenge... The strange silence after. I wondered, not for the first time, if things hadn’t gone as planned between Ariston and Drakkar. They’d both seemed more awkward after it. Like something delicate had broken—or never taken root at all.

Things turned out good between me and my husband. I feel we got even closer.

"That’s all," Draegon said, "This meeting ends here. Everybody see to the tasks assigned to you all immediately."

"Yes," His subjects answered him.

When the meeting adjourned, chairs scraping and murmurs rising, I stood.

My eyes went to my guard first and I thought about going to Ariston. Asking him if he was alright.

But... I didn’t want to push. He’d been through enough without me crowding him. I’m sure he has a crisis going on in his head.

So I turned, slipping quietly from the room, heading down the long torch-lit hall toward the training room

***

I found Seraphine in the training chamber—tucked away in the quietest wing of the stronghold, where the wind blew soft through the cracked, high windows.

"You’re here," Seraphine smiled when she saw me come in

"Good afternoon," I greeted her.

She stood at the center of the room, the light from the broken lattice window brushing her like gold dust.

She looked nothing like the person Draegon had carried in his arms weeks ago—frail and silent, every bone of her frame screaming of starvation and quiet suffering. Now, she stood tall, wrapped in a pale tunic and belted leathers, her long hair braided back, and though there were still shadows beneath her eyes, there was color in her skin.

She looked so much healthier than before.

She turned as I entered, her gaze meeting mine. That faint smile bloomed again.

"Ready for today’s Training?" She asked and I nodded

No words were needed. We slipped into rhythm like we always had

She was a splendid teacher.

When we finally stopped, I dropped to the floor with a huff, legs sprawling, muscles singing. My chest rose and fell, but not like it used to. Not like the gasping, ragged breaths that once followed every session.

Seraphine, ever composed, walked slowly to the chair by the window—moonstone and ash wood carved into something that looked almost like a throne, but gentler. She sat with the grace of a queen, then folded her hands in her lap, her breathing steady.

"You don’t breathe like a dying wolf anymore," she said. There was amusement in her voice, but also a kind of quiet pride.

I glanced up at her, startled. She was right. My chest wasn’t heaving. My lungs no longer felt like they’d been scorched raw. I laughed, a little breathless. "I hadn’t even noticed."

"You’re stronger than you think," she said, voice soft. "You always were." She seemed proud, "And as the prophecy says, you will become even stronger."

"..."

The prophecy...

Silence followed. The kind of silence that didn’t feel empty—just full of things we hadn’t said yet. She leaned her head back, eyes half-lidded, and began to hum.

A tune I didn’t know. It was soothing. Haunting. Perhaps something from her village.

I watched her. The quiet grace of her. The way the light wrapped around her like she belonged to it, like she hadn’t spent years in darkness. She had been through so much—used, discarded, locked away like a secret the demons didn’t want the world to remember. And yet here she sat, humming like peace was something she’d carried with her all along.

"How are you like this?" I asked, unable to keep it inside anymore. "How are you at peace, after everything?"

Her humming slowed, but she didn’t stop. Just a slight tilt of the head, a faint wrinkle of her brow. She wasn’t surprised by the question. She’d probably been waiting for it.

I sat up straighter. "Why did you marry him? The Demon King? You had to have known what they thought of concubines. You had to know what they’d do to you."

The hum faded into quiet. She was still for a long moment. Then she turned to me, her expression unreadable, but not cold.

"Because-"