Chapter 13: From the past.

"Name anything you desire." The memory of his gratefulness and weight of his eyes forced something deep inside her-a strange, unsettling mix of unease and yearning. 'What do I even want?" she muttered to herself. The question hung in the air, unanswered. Her green eyes drifted to the little carving on the table, the reminder of the short-lived presence of her father in her life. The flames danced across its surface, casting shadows that seemed to twist and shift with her thoughts. And then, without warning, the past surged forward, washing over her like a wave. It was a different time, a different life. Rieka had been someone else then: naive, hopeful, and hopelessly in love. She had saved the king in that life. Without any second thought, she had climbed down, risking her life to pull him to safety. He had offered her anything she desired. And she, foolish and smitten, had asked for his heart. "I wish to be your wife," she had said, her voice trembling with both fear and courage. At first, the king laughed, thinking of her jesting. But when he saw the sincerity in her eyes, his laughter faded. He had agreed, though their union was met with scorn from his court. She was a commoner, an outsider, unworthy of the crown. The whispers, the rumours, the venomous glares-all of it had been her reality. And then the betrayal came. Her death was quick, brutal, performed by those who believed her presence weakened the throne. She had barely seen it coming-a poisoned chalice, a shadowed figure with a dagger. In her final moments, as the darkness swallowed her, she realised how wrong she had been. Never again," she said, her voice barely audible now, A sudden rap at the door whirled her out of her daydream. Rieka jerked, her heart jumping into her throat as she glared at the door, her breath caught in her throat. The knock came again, louder this time. She got up warily, clutching the small blade she always hid near the hearth. She opened the door a crack and her eyes went wide with incredulity. Riftan?" she breathed, the name no more than a whisper. He stood framed in the doorway, his tall form casting a shadow over her. Dark eyes bored into hers, his features a mix of relief and frustration. "So, I finally found you," he growled, his voice rough, yet laced with an emotional undercurrent. "Do you have any idea how long I've been searching for you? Rieka stepped back, her grip tightening on the doorframe. "Why are you here?" "To bring you home," Riftan replied, stepping forward as if he had every right to cross the threshold. "Enough of this nonsense, Rieka. You don't belong here, living like some hermit in the woods. Our parents are worried sick—" "Don't," she snapped, her voice sharp and cutting. "Don't you dare speak to me about them." Riftan stopped, his brow furrowing. "They've changed, Rieka. They want you back. They miss you." Rieka laughed, the sound bitter and devoid of humor. "Changed? They *miss* me? Do they miss the daughter whom they beat into submission, the girl whom they blamed for every misfortune in their miserable lives?" Her voice cracked, spilling out like a dam breaking. "Rieka—" "No!" she cut him off, her eyes ablaze. "I'd rather die than go back to them. I'm free now, Riftan. For the first time in my life, I'm free. And I'm not giving that up for anyone—not for them, not for you." Riftan's face softened, a flicker of guilt crossing his features. "I know they were cruel. I know I should have protected you better." "Protected me?" Rieka laughed shortly. "You stood by and watched. You did nothing, Riftan. Nothing. And now you expect me to believe you've come to save me?" "I'm trying to make it right," he said softly, his words weighty with regret. "I can't change the past, but I can be here for you now. Let me help you." You can help me by leaving," Rieka said firmly, stepping back and clutching the door. "Go home, Riftan. Go back to them. But don't ever come here again." Riftan hesitated, his hands clenching at his sides. "You're making a mistake, Rieka. Staying here, hiding away-it's not the life you deserve. "And what do I deserve, Riftan?" she challenged, her voice shaking all over with anger and pain. "A life of servitude? A life dictated by others? No. I choose my path now. And you don't get to decide it for me." They just looked at each other for a moment, with many things unsaid. Riftan slumped his shoulders and sighed hard. "Fine," he said finally, his voice full of resignation. "But if you ever need me, you know where to find me." "I won't," Rieka answered back coldly, not even batting an eyelash. For a moment longer, Riftan lingered, his eyes roaming hers as if in search of something that he had lost. Without another word, he turned and walked away, the sound of his footsteps disappearing into the night. Rieka closed the door behind him, leaning against it as her knees buckled. Tears welled in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. Riftan's sudden appearance had shaken her, reopening wounds she had thought long healed. She gazed into the fire once more, her mind wandering back to the king's offer. Memories of her past life competed with the raw reality of the present, and in this, she was divided, not sure of how to proceed. "Never again," she whispered, the words a mantra, a promise to herself. But in her heart of hearts, she knew the past often caught up, and with the shifting and stirring of the forest outside, Rieka couldn't shake the feeling that her old and new choices were far from done with her. A faint rustling outside caught her attention. She froze, her breath hitching as the sound grew louder. Someone-or something-was watching her again.