Elara took a step closer, her voice cutting through the tense silence between them like a blade.
“You were supposed to be my knight,” she spat, her chest rising and falling with restrained fury. “So tell me, Cedric, where were you when I was about to get swallowed? What were you doing while I was reaching for help?” Your next chapter awaits on My Virtual Library Empire
Cedric’s breath hitched.
The words struck deeper than he expected.
You were supposed to be my knight.
His hands curled into fists, nails digging into his palms.
The image of that day flashed through his mind, unwanted but relentless.
The swirling vortex. The deafening roar of the battlefield.
Elara reaching out, her fingers mere inches from salvation—
And Luca getting there first.
He clenched his jaw, but it didn’t stop the flood of memories, nor did it stop the deeper, more festering wound that had taken root inside him since that moment.
Since that man.
Luca.
The duel.
The way he had dismantled Cedric with ease, like he was playing with a child.
The way his pitch-black eyes had gleamed with something cold and knowing.
And the words he left behind.
“Remember your place.”
Cedric sucked in a sharp breath, his whole body tensing as the memory of that smirk resurfaced, mocking, belittling.
The memory of his own powerlessness.
The way his body had refused to move, locked under the weight of Luca’s gaze.
And even now, even now, he couldn’t shake it.
The suffocating feeling of being lesser.
He hated it.
He hated it.
His anger boiled over.
With a sudden, violent movement, Cedric’s fist slammed into the nearest piece of furniture—a wooden table. The impact sent a deep crack through its surface, the legs groaning under the sudden force before it tipped and collapsed onto its side.
Elara flinched at the unexpected outburst, but she didn’t step back. She only stared, her breath heavy, waiting for his response.
Cedric’s chest heaved as he slowly turned his head toward her, his voice rough, raw.
“Lady Elara…” His hands were still shaking, whether from rage or something deeper, he didn’t know. He took a step closer, his expression dark. “Do you think I didn’t try?”
Elara opened her mouth to speak, but he didn’t let her.
“Do you think I was just standing still?” His voice rose, his frustration spilling over. “Do you think I wanted to watch as you almost got swallowed whole? Do you think I chose to be too slow?”
His fists clenched even tighter, his shoulders shaking.
“I ran,” he said through gritted teeth. “I ran as fast as I could. I pushed myself harder than I ever had before—but I wasn’t fast enough.”
The words burned in his throat.
His pride—shattered.
His strength—useless.
Because Luca had beaten him to it.
Because Luca had been the one to pull her back.
Not Cedric.
Never Cedric.
His blue eyes locked onto Elara’s, a storm raging in their depths. “You weren’t the only one reaching that day,” he whispered, his voice lower, almost dangerous. “I was reaching too. But he got there first.”
And that fact killed him.
Because Cedric had trained for years to be her shield, her protector.
And yet, when it had truly mattered—
It was Luca who had saved her.
Cedric’s breathing was ragged, his vision blurred by the sheer weight of his emotions. His fists remained clenched, his knuckles white as the storm inside him roared louder, demanding to be heard.
Was everything he had done useless?
Had all the years by her side meant nothing?
He took a step forward, his voice shaking, not just with anger, but with something raw and deeply wounded.
“I was there, Elara.”
His words were low, but they carried an undeniable weight, a tremor that ran deeper than fury.
“I was there when you had nothing,” he continued, his jaw clenching so tightly it ached. “When you weren’t Elara Valoria, heir to the Dukedom of Valoria. When you weren’t Mage Elara, the one they whisper about now.”
His hands trembled at his sides, his nails digging into his palms.
“I was there when you were just Elara—the banished heiress, the girl who had no title, no power, no one.”
His breath was uneven, his emotions unraveling in ways he hadn’t allowed them to before.
“I was there when you didn’t know how to sew, how to take a job, when you barely knew how to survive outside of that damned noble estate.” His voice cracked, but he didn’t stop. “When people looked at you and saw an opportunity to take advantage of a lost, broken girl—I was the one who stood in front of you.”
The room felt suffocating.
“I was the one who kept you safe when men approached you with disgusting intentions.” His teeth ground together at the memory, at the nights he had spent keeping watch, making sure no one dared lay a hand on her. “I was the one who took on every damn job I could find—no matter how humiliating, no matter how low—just so we could eat, so you didn’t have to starve.”
His breath hitched, but he forced himself to look her in the eyes, his gaze burning.
“And now, now, after all of that—after everything—you’re telling me that a man you met a week ago is the one who matters?”
The words felt like acid in his throat, but he didn’t hold them back.
“That he—what? Changes everything?” His voice rose, his frustration spilling over in waves. “That because he pulled you back once, that somehow means more than the years I spent pulling you back every single time?”
The weight of it all crashed into him, and for a moment, Cedric almost felt like he couldn’t breathe.
He had bled for her. He had suffered for her.
He had been there when she was nothing—when she had no strength, no pride, no name to call her own.
And now, she was looking past him.
For Luca.
That realization—more than anything else—sent a violent ache through his chest, deeper than any wound he had taken before.
His hands clenched so tightly he thought they might break.
“Cedr-“
Just as Elara parted her lips to respond, a voice—soft and soothing, like a lullaby—cut through the tension like a blade.
“My, my… youngsters these days…”
