A Court of Dusk and Shadows

CHAPTER SIX: THE SACRIFICE

The door slammed shut behind them, and Bryce whirled on Ileana, fury flashing in her amber eyes. "You can't stay! What were you thinking? I'm not leaving you here with them!"

Ileana's smile was unwavering, a touch sad but reassuring. "Don't worry about me, Bryce. I'll be fine."

She moved to the bed, sinking down with the easy grace of a queen, her posture ramrod straight, regal even in this intimate space. It unnerved Bryce, how much Ileana looked like their father when she held herself that way. But now Bryce recognized it for what it was—a shield against vulnerability.

Slowly, she walked over, choosing to sit cross-legged on the floor in front of her sister. "Why didn't you tell us?" she asked. Her voice was softer now, laced with a hurt she couldn't hide.

Ileana sighed, the sound heavy with unspoken burdens. For the first time, Bryce saw the weight of everything her sister carried reflected in her eyes, a crack in the facade she'd so carefully constructed.

"It was always about protecting you and Ruhn," Ileana confessed, her voice cracking with emotion. "From Father, from the Asteri, from the weight of our legacy. But I failed." Shame gnawed at her, a bitter taste on her tongue. "Urd, fate itself, seems to have woven a different path for you, little sister."

Bryce, tears welling in her own eyes, shook her head. "No, you didn't fail," she whispered. "You did everything you could. You're still doing everything you can, coming here and cleaning up our messes."

"Well, I'm not as important as you are." Ileana's hand trembled as it cupped Bryce's cheek. "You're the one that Midgard needs, Bryce. You're the one that needs to get home."

A sob escaped Bryce's lips, raw and uninhibited. "But what about you?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Ileana's gaze held an unyielding strength, a queen facing her inevitable battle. "I have my duty," she murmured. "But you—it's time to show everyone how brightly you can shine. You were always the most dazzling light in my world, even if I didn't tell you."

Bryce leaned into her sister's touch. At that moment, they were not princesses, not warriors, not pawns in a celestial game. They were simply sisters, bound by love and loss, sharing a final, precious moment before the tide swept them apart.

Bryce couldn't take it anymore.

The weight of the impending separation, the raw vulnerability Ileana had finally shown, it all came crashing down in a wave of desperate affection. With a strangled cry, she launched herself off the floor, burying her face in the crook of Ileana's neck. Her body trembled against her sister's, each sob a silent plea against the cruel twist of fate.

Ileana held her tight, the dam within her own heart threatening to burst. The hug was an anchor, a lifeline in the storm of emotions swirling around them. For the first time, the walls she'd built, the queenly facade, all crumbled away, leaving only the raw ache of love and fear for her little sister.

"I wish we had more time," Bryce mumbled into her shoulder, her voice thick with tears.

Ileana smiled, a bittersweet ache settling in her chest. "Kick the Asteri's asses, and we will have time, Bryce."

✴️ | 🗡️ | ✴️

Back in the war room, tension hung heavy in the air.

Feyre, her gaze fixed on the flickering flames of the hearth, broke the silence. "Even without the offer," she said, her voice quiet yet resolute, "I believe we should help them."

Silence greeted her words, broken only by the soft crackle of the fire. Then, to everyone's surprise, it was Nesta who spoke up next. "I agree."

Heads snapped towards her; eyebrows raised in disbelief. Nesta, known for her stoicism and cynicism, rarely saw eye-to-eye with Feyre, let alone voiced such agreement.