Fragile Heart / Acotar

CHAPTER FOUR
❛ among the masked ❜

          ELIRA AWOKE WITH A JOLT ATOP THE HORSE, secured by invisible bonds. The sun hung high in the sky now, its golden rays sharp and unyielding. Feyre, clearly having woken just minutes earlier, sat stiffly ahead, her jaw clenched. Elira could see the unspoken question in her sister's taunt posture: How long had they been unconscious?

          Chirping birds darted between the trees, and a soft breeze swept over Elira's face, carrying with it the faint scent of spring. It was strange — so unlike the biting winter of their small village, where the air cut sharp and cold and left her heart achingly weak. She tried to shake away the thoughts of home — their sisters, their cottage, the snow — but they lingered, stubborn and heavy.

          Ahead of them, a hedge-bordered gate loomed into view, its iron bars dark against the vibrant green scenery.

          "How are you feeling?" Feyre's voice, hoarse from sleep, broke through the quiet.

          "I'm fine," Elira replied softly.

          Feyre glanced over her shoulder, eyes narrowing as she studied her sister. "It took us two days to get here. If we were asleep the entire time, it might have affected your heart. Are you sure—?"

          "I'm fine, Fey," Elira interrupted, taking a deep breath of the fragrant breeze. She focused inward, feeling the steady rhythm of her heartbeat. "Really."

          Before Feyre could press further, the gates groaned and swung open. The faerie ahead of them didn't even pause, striding through as though the world itself bend to his will, and whether they wanted to or not, their horse followed him.

          The estate that rose before them was sprawling across rolling green land, a vision of alabaster walls draped in ivy and roses. Balconies jutted from its sides, staircases spiraled toward the sky, and manicured lawns stretched endlessly, bordered by dense woods. Even their old manor, in all its former glory, couldn't compare.

          Sunlight kissed Elira's skin, and for a fleeting moment, it chased away the coldness that had lingered with her for so long.

          But awe quickly gave away to unease. The estate, for all its beauty was eerily silent. The garden they passed through, with its swaying snowdrops, butter-yellow daffodils and amethyst irises, felt hushed — waiting. A faint scent of magic hung in the air, sharp and metallic, carried in the warm breeze.

         Elira shifted uncomfortably in her layers, now stifling in the heat. When she raised a hand to brush a strand of hair from her damp face, she noticed that the invisible bonds that were holding her before had vanished.

          The faerie bounded up the grand marble staircase ahead of them, his movements fluid and powerful. The towering oak doors creaked open as he approached, and without hesitation, disappeared inside.

          Feyre shifted in her saddle, glancing back at Elira. Her voice dropped to a whisper. "The gates are still open. If we're going to run, it has to be now."

          Elira met her sister's eyes, her own gaze filled with quiet sorrow. "I want to go home too," she murmured. But you know I can't run. I wouldn't even make it past the gates." Her hand pressed lightly against her chest, trembling.