Out of Time

The ballroom glittered with the refracted light of a thousand candles, hanging above in chandeliers and casting a warm glow across well dressed attendees. 

To say it was loud would be an understatement, and it did nothing to ease Elara’s buzzing nerves as she watched her cousin, Princess Isabelle, ascend a set of steps and turn. Their eyes met above the crowd, and Isabelle sent her a proud smile as she lifted her voice, calling for attention and swiftly silencing the crowd. 

“Thank you all for coming,” she said, looking around the room. “I am so glad to have many friends among us to join us in celebration tonight. For my cousin, Elara, has returned from the South with good news! She passed her healing exams!” She waved to Elara, beckoning her forward. 

Elara gulped, glancing at her parents nearby, and handed her father, Loren, her plate of desserts. Quickly, so as to get over the embarrassment of being called out in front of so many people, she rushed to the front of the room and up those stairs to stand beside Isabelle. 

“As many of you already know, Elara is very talented in healing magic.” Isabelle took her hand and looked into her eyes. “It is the same gift my mother had. And I am confident that she will use it in the same way—to help and protect her people.” 

Elara’s eyes prickled with tears. 

“Tonight we celebrate the achievements of the hardest worker and biggest bookworm I know. To Healer Elara!” 

Across the room people clapped, cheered, and raised their drinks. 

The music began. 

With a much quieter voice, Isabelle said, “Sorry if I embarrassed you. I really am so proud of you, and you deserve to be recognized.” 

“Thank you, Isa.” 

“Now go on, and have fun.” Isabelle gave her hand a final squeeze before parting. “Someone is watching you.” Her husband was approaching, looking ready to dance, and Isabelle was not one to shy away from a party. 

Elara watched her cousin go, feeling alone and exposed on the staircase, but also feeling the eyes of someone on her. She cast her eyes around the room, taking in the sight of everything. She returned from the Haven after two years of study and practice just two weeks ago, and found it all rather… overwhelming. 

Across the hall she saw Captain Thorne Stonewell, observing not the festivities with his usually stoic and unreadable expression, but her. He was well dressed in his formal uniform—a simple black shirt with golden embroidery, black pants, and boots. Nearby an already drunk group of attendees attempted to goad him into conversation, but he ignored them. 

For a few seconds the bustling, twirling world around her slowed. 

She gave him a smile as bright as she could manage and he broke character to curve his lips upward in a brief, genuine smile in return. Her breath caught in her throat. She had a crush on him before she left—one that had existed since she was 12 years old and he arrived at the castle to train with his uncle, the previous Captain. Thorne took up the position around the same time Elara left to study at the Haven. That smile did little to help her keep the returning emotions at bay. She remembered all their looks, the way his hand lingered on hers as he helped her out of the carriage just a few weeks ago. For a moment, she felt nothing could dampen her spirits. 

Then she remembered the rumors. 

For the last week she had been hearing talk that Thorne would he headed to the southwestern section of the mountain range along the kingdom’s border, where an undead dragon was known to lurk. They were to destroy the dragon forever. It left her heart heavy and throbbing with regret, and try as she might she could not shake the feeling that she had run out of time, that it was too late to express whatever unspoken feelings between them that always existed. There would be no point. 

With that thought, Elara tore her gaze away from him to find her parents, who had not left the dessert table. She took a deep breath, lifted her skirt, and hurried back, pushing through dancers and those who lingered around the edge of the dance floor. 

Loren, in his formal white naval uniform, extended her plate of cookies as she approached. It was taller than she left it, and she felt a swell of appreciation for her father, who was always making sure she and her mother, Margot, left these events full of food. 

Elara and Margot were more alike than just their outer appearance, with their stormy gray eyes and long, cascading head of chestnut curls. They were, for example, lovers of desserts, and introverts. 

“We are glad you’re back,” Margot said. “And we are so proud of you. I knew you would make it.” She brushed a hand over Elara’s hair, moving it out of her face and over her shoulder. 

“You know everything, though.”

“I don’t need to look into the future to know my daughter would pass.” 

That was another way Elara knew she was her mother’s daughter—they were a studious pair. 

“She still worried, though,” Loren said. 

“Hush. I’m projecting an air of confidence.” Margot attempted to poke his side. 

Loren dodged her attack with skill only 20 years of marriage could give him. “I’m sure soon enough you’ll be Head Healer,” he added. 

Elara shook her head, a smile playing on her lips. “I don’t think I want any of that responsibility, and even if I did, I would want to earn it. So it will be a long time yet.” 

Margot attempted to pinch his side again, stopped only by the stack of macarons on his plate. She didn’t dare spill those. 

Elara smiled. Her parents bickered often, and always had, but she had never witnessed a real argument from them in her life. 

“I came all the way from Bigfoot Isles for this?” Loren huffed. “I’ll take your macarons back with me.” 

“And I’ll get you back for it when you come home in three months. And you won’t get a new assignment for a very long time.” 

Loren’s eyes flashed—but not with anger. He was daring her to do it. “I’ll stay as long as you like,” he said with a mocking smile. Outsiders might mistake it for sarcasm, but Elara recognized it as a tone he reserved for Margot alone. 

Elara couldn’t bear their strange flirting any longer. Not with the heaviness that settled over her the moment she stepped into the ballroom and tried to shove deep down for the sake of the party. “Stop it or I’m leaving.” She hesitated taking a bite of cookie to add, “And the Bigfoot Isles aren’t that far away, Dad. They’re just a day away.” 

“To the brig you go.” 

“I’ll lock you in the Healer’s Tower and have you evaluated for scurvy.” 

Loren gasped. “My Healer daughter has the power to do that now…” 

“I do. Now be pleasant this evening, please. You’re adults.” 

Margot snorted.

Loren looked up from his family and his mouth tightened. “I think you’ve got a visitor, Elara.” Elara followed his gaze and found Thorne, standing not too far away, hands clasped behind his back. Light armor atop his formal attire glinted in the candlelight. His eyes darted first to smirking Loren, then Elara, and his ears tipped with red. 

“I don’t mean to interrupt,” Thorne said. He played with the gloves in his hands. “I just wanted to ask Elara if she wanted to dance.” He looked at her earnestly. 

Margot and Loren exchanged looks. 

Elara almost gaped at him. She never could have predicted this. But he held her gaze, clenching his jaw as he waited for her response. 

Waiting. He was waiting for her to—

Elara glanced at her parents, who were suddenly interested in the towering cake next to them. Then slowly, with a great gulp, she nodded. “Yes. I’d love to.” 

A slight, relieved smile broke his face. 

She heard Margot whisper, They’re so sweet… to Loren, who watched the interaction out of the corner of his eye.  

She couldn’t believe it when he held out a hand, ready to escort her to the dance floor, or when his calloused fingers closed gently around hers. Not when they found a spot and his hand went to her waist, and they started to move. 

Her heart was racing. 

She looked back to her parents, who weren’t far away, and watched with knowing smiles. 

“Congratulations on passing, Healer Elara,” Thorne said, calling her attention to him. “I know you’ve been studying for a long time.” 

“I’ll always be studying,” Elara said. Her body started to relax into the movement of the music, allowing Thorne to lead her across the room. “There’s always new advances, and I don’t want to forget anything…” 

“Do you know what path you’re taking, moving forward? I know some Healers leave, some travel, some are reassigned.” 

Elara shrugged, her grip on his shoulder and hand tightening ever so slightly. “I… would like to stay here. But ultimately, I’ll go wherever I’m needed.” She would have followed him to the border, if she was asked. If he asked. She couldn’t bear the thought of him being hurt. 

Thorne’s eyes, which had been focused on her for their conversation thus far, drifted to her glittering dangling earrings. “It’s… admirable, what you—all of you—do. Even more so to be willing to travel for the good of one’s people. You will go on to do great things. I know it.” 

“Well thank you, Captain Stonwell.” She sent him a bashful smile, ignoring the nagging feeling that he was speaking as though he wouldn’t be there to witness it. 

Thorne faltered. “I’m not… After tonight, I won’t be Captain here anymore.” 

Elara’s heart stopped. She shook her head, feeling her throat constrict. “Are the rumors true, then?” she croaked. “That—“

Thorne’s expression shifted to something more somber as he examined her face, seeming to memorize every freckle and mark. “Yes,” he said finally. “I leave at dawn.” 

“And why didn’t I hear about it from you? Why didn’t you tell me?” 

His grip on her hand tightened as a flicker of pain flashed across his features. “I thought your mother would have told you… and I didn’t… I didn’t want to burden you. Not when everyone was so excited to have you back. I thought it would be easier this way.” 

His words were like a knife to her heart. “Easier for who?” What would be easier? Saying goodbye? If this ball wasn’t happening would he have just left without saying anything? 

He hesitated, avoiding her eyes as he, voice thick with regret, admitted, “For both of us.”

They danced in silence for a moment. Elara ran through her memories for any sign, any indication—but her mind kept going to the letters he wrote her every week, to that last one signed, Always yours. Did he know that he would be leaving—likely marching to his death with so much left unspoken between them and that was all he could do to indicate what was in his heart? 

She couldn’t help the shuddering breath that shook her body. She wanted to tell him that she was always his, but fear of rejection and knowing they ran out of time held her back. She didn’t want to make this farewell more difficult than it had to be, and suddenly she understood. Lingering anger from his silence melted away, exposing the raw, jagged hurt of a love that could never be, digging into her heart with every thought, breath, and movement. 

She reminded herself that she was nothing to him but a friend—at least, she considered them to be friends—and he didn’t owe her any explanations, no matter how much she wished otherwise. It didn’t mean she couldn’t memorize the shape of his face, the color of his eyes and how it felt to be the one they focused on, the way he looked at her with such intensity… 

“Elara.” Thorne’s voice was soft and warm—the way she always imagined he would say her name if things were different, if he returned her feelings.

The song had ended. Around them pairs broke apart, the talking resumed, and people moved about to prepare for the next song. And they stood, unmoving, in the center of it all. 

Elara knew they should move on. He needed to get back to his duties. Tears welled in her eyes. Was this it? Was this really all they would have together? 

Her eyes found his and saw her pain mirrored in his own face. His eyes darted between hers and he opened his mouth as if to speak, but stopped. He swallowed, throat bobbing. Finally he seemed to settle on the words, “I wish things were different.“ 

She could have sworn she heard glass shattering. “Me too.”

For a moment they just looked at each other. A new song started, but neither could bring themselves to part—not yet. 

Slowly Thorne’s hand traveled to her cheek, loaded with all the gentle tenderness he possessed and wished to have given throughout the course of a lifetime. His thumb brushed against her skin and his eyes remained fixed on her lips as his hand, warm and rough with callouses, traveled down to caress her arm, to grasp her hand. The action sent a shiver down her spine and she wondered if he was trying to memorize the feeling as much as she was. He inched closer, eyes flickering once again to her eyes. His thumb ran across her knuckles. “If I—"

Someone knocked Elara’s shoulder, breaking the spell of the moment. She tore her hand away from Thorne’s to grasp her shoulder, and watched the dancing couple move away, unaware of what they had done. 

Thorne watched the dancers, a muscle in his jaw twitching. He seemed to be considering his next actions. After a moment he squared his shoulders, the mask of Captain slipping back over his features. He looked at her, expression hard but eyes soft as he said, “Take care of yourself, Elara. Thank you, for the dance.” 

“You too, Thorne.” 

They gave each other a final, lingering look before Thorne turned to go, tearing himself away to slip into the crowd. As he disappeared tears cascaded down her cheeks and a choked sob escaped her body. Her skin tingled where he had touched her. What was he going to say before someone ran into her? She wished, more than anything, that she used the time she had more wisely. Maybe if she had, she wouldn’t be left wondering. 

Leaving to the Haven was easier than this, she remembered. But she at least knew she would come back, and her friends and family would be waiting for her. 

But he was leaving to fight a dragon. 

And he was likely to die. 

Her soul was split in two as she returned to her parents. 

Margot shoved her plate of desserts into Loren’s already full hands and rushed to meet her daughter. The tears turned to quiet sobs, and crying into her shoulder was all she could do to stop from causing a scene. Margot ran a hand over Elara’s hair. “I know, sweetheart,” she murmured, voice tinging with guilt. “I know it hurts.” 

“How do you do it, Mom?” she asked between her deep, wracking breaths. “With Dad being away?” 

Margot glanced back at Loren, who watched on helplessly. “You don’t get used to it,” she said softly. “You miss them every day they’re gone, and you wish they were there for meals and fun times. You just… keep going, hoping you can tell them all about it later.” 

There would be no later.