Bridging the Ancient ✓

Chapter 25

The door to Silas's chambers is left ajar, evidence of someone leaving and promising to be back soon. Hallie, possibly—unless the crown prince is so lonely that even the vacant hallway is enough to soothe the emptiness in his soul. That emptiness is my fault, the reason Silas has changed is because of what I did.

I want to go back and change it all but...I can't. For the crown prince, I will get on my knees and beg for forgiveness; he has never done anything wrong to warrant the type of pain he is experiencing.

My palm presses onto his door and pushes with a feather-light touch, the hinges squeaking as I take my first step into the room. He's sitting there, in his bed, with his back propped against the headboard. Silas has nearly finished the book in his lap, one of the copies I recognize from our raid on a bookstore in Mailan. That happens to be one of the few books I've read myself, over and over again.

I stand in his doorway, unsure whether to enter any further. That familiar light doesn't cast on his face, instead, shadows smudge underneath his eyes and when he reaches to turn a page, his hand shakes. My heart skitters and my stomach tightens. I did this. I did this.

Silas is concentrated on the book but his eyes are not fully focused. Part of him is here, the other isn't. He's thinking about the book right now but also the events leading up to his near death. Silas is broken.

I broke the crown prince.

"Silas?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. It's as much as I can muster without breaking down entirely. Sobbing my apologies in his chambers isn't the proper way to greet him after some time apart.

His head slowly turns and those hollow eyes meet mine, a dull shade of grey. I've never seen him so...like his brother. Like something has been ripped from his soul and with every attempt to get it back, he fails. By now, the real Silas would have smiled and pulled me in for one of his bone-crushing embraces.

But I don't receive that. He blinks, his pale lips shifting to form the words: "You're back." And there's no sense of joy or emotion in that statement.

I nod clearly, as if this will help him understand. Not a twitch of a smile or relief presents itself as he realizes we're not in danger anymore. Silas shuts the book carefully with such a slow hand that I nearly shut it myself. But I don't move, I don't know how close he wants me and if I step out of my means, his condition could escalate.

"How are you feeling?" I ask. My hands involuntarily fold themselves together over my stomach and Silas watches the movement warily. Those are the hands that nearly got him killed—I tried to take my anger out on his as well, not just Darius.

As slow as someone waking from a deep slumber, his eyes drift to the windows and hold there, staring out at the sunshine beyond. He receives the sunrises, same as Renit, while Hallie shares the sunsets with me. Rays stream in through the glass and blanch themselves on the wooden floorboards, spreading to the rug and chaise near his armoire.

His crown, abandoned on its cushion, sprinkles silver across the ceiling from where it sits on his windowsill.

"I feel...fine," he says. Even his voice doesn't sound like his own. "The healers did everything, I'm back to normal."

This isn't normal, I tell myself. I clench my hands into fists to keep from shaking his shoulders to tell him this isn't normal. He needs to be laughing or telling me a joke about an unfortunate night of getting drunk with the captain of the guard and finding himself in a tree outside of the courtyard.

No, Silas is not normal. Somewhere inside him, the crown prince is lost. And we cannot go diving for his real self at a time like this, or any time for that manner. The kingdom will deem him unfit to rule if they're aware of the condition he's in.