Elora Van Eck | Kaz Brekker

TWENTY-FOUR | REVELATIONS

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e l o r a

"Elora!"

  But the name whizzed past her – the winds she stirred up with her rapid stride hurled it against a wall.

  Elora dashed down the corridor, past her bedroom, and forced open the door leading into the wide backyard. Ever since being brought to this residence, she had only ever stepped outside with permission.

  "You are under no circumstances to leave the house without supervision." This unequivocal prohibition functioned as if the exit were guarded by soldiers.

  Breaking a rule was never as simple as it seemed. And it always came with a cost. Elora had lived through losing one due to her nastiness firsthand. Breaking a rule generally resulted in her being abandoned. Like her mother had abandoned her. Willingly or not, it hurt all the same. Or she'd be taken away from her heart. Wylan. This was a gamble she did not wish to incur again. But she was beginning to lose her connection to the outer world.

  The warm breeze licked her face, and the reality of nature brought tears to her eyes. For all that Elora believed, had appeared to be merely a figment of her imagination.

  "Elora, please," begged Klara. The young woman's voice trembled. But at that point, it was beyond Elora's means to bother. She did not care to listen to the explanations that were bound to tumble from her friend's lips.

  Elora had lost her understanding of the world.

  Had she ever understood the world?

  "All this time," Elora came to a halt, her gaze fixed on the sky, "that I've been here...I never felt confined as long as I knew I had you as a friend." She spun around to soak in Klara's shameful expression. "All the time I've been here, you've betrayed me so tactlessly."

  "I can explain!" Klara reached out a hand for Elora, hoping the girl would grasp it and forget all her anger and hurt. But all Elora did was shake her head; her eyes dropped to the meadow beneath her feet as if the sight of Klara would singe her eyeballs.

  Nonetheless, an unwelcome declaration flared from Klara's chest. "I couldn't risk losing my job!"

  This piqued Elora's attention. "Yet you did," she stated, as if setting the puzzle pieces together, "because now I realize you didn't leave to nurse your mother." Her eyes darted toward the house where the Madame, Klara's mother, was to be found.

  Klara began to twirl her hair, undoubtedly anxious about what she was about to share. "My employer," she stammered, "former employer. He gave specific instructions to his staff not to befriend you. He had stated that our being here was strictly professional and that any misbehavior would result in immediate dismissal."

  Elora stared, perplexed. A million thoughts raced through her head, but her lips couldn't keep up.

  Klara had violated a rule and was forced to leave. It was not even something Elora had done. And yet, a person had been taken from her.

  Klara went on. "The pay was above average, which is a boon for people like me. But then I met you, a person with such warmth that my entire soul yearned for you. And I couldn't help but grow fond of you, Elora." The girl's pleading gaze did not waver. "Forgive me, forgive me, please forgive me," she seemed to be pleading inwardly.

  Elora gulped heavily, but she failed to be interested in the crooning words. As if they were mere background chatter during the climax of a theatre play.

  It wasn't apparent whether she wanted to know the answer to the following question. But the topic had risen into the air quicker than her brain was capable of processing it. "Who was your employer?"