Chains and Broken Magic
Copyright© 2026 by Rachael Jane
Chapter 16: Ysolde: A King’s Wrath
The news reaches the palace before dawn. I know something has happened long before the guards arrive. The corridors outside my chamber echo with hurried footsteps. Voices rise and fall in sharp, clipped tones. The air feels charged ... like the moment before a storm breaks.
Then the door bursts open. Roderick enters with two guards at his heels. His expression is a mask of fury barely held in check.
“The stupid dwarves have let your daughter escape.”
The words hit me like a blow. For a heartbeat, I cannot breathe. For a heartbeat, I am back in Morellin, watching my daughters run through the silverleaf groves. For a heartbeat, I feel hope ... bright, sharp, dangerous.
Roderick said ‘daughter’ ... singular. Does he mean Aelwyn or Lyralyn.
I school my face into calm. “Who? How?”
Roderick steps closer, eyes blazing. “That is what I intend to discover.”
He gestures sharply. The guards move forward.
“Place her under full watch,” he orders. “No one enters or leaves her chamber without my permission. Double the guards. No windows unbarred. No doors unlocked.”
I lift my chin. “Do you fear that I will flee?”
He laughs ... a harsh, brittle sound. “I fear your people will come for you.”
My people. If only he knew how scattered, how wounded, how desperate we are. But Aelwyn or Lyralyn is free. She is alive. That means she is fighting.
The guards seize my arms. I do not resist, but I do not bow my head either.
Roderick watches me with narrowed eyes. “Do not think this changes anything. One escaped elf does not undo my victory.”
I meet his gaze. “It changes everything.”
His jaw tightens. “Take her to the main hall and shackle her to the throne.”
They drag me back into the main hall and lock the chain around my collar. I test that the lock is secure in the vain hope that it is not. No such luck.
I kneel on the plinth surrounding the throne, breathing slowly, forcing my heartbeat to steady. One of my daughters is free. Hope blooms in my chest ... fragile, trembling, alive. But hope is dangerous here.
Later that morning, Roderick returns, this time with Vespera’s apprentice ... a thin, nervous young man who looks as though he would rather be anywhere else than here.
Roderick’s expression is darker now. “Do we have another problem?”
The apprentice swallows. “My king ... Vespera is missing.”
My breath catches. Missing?
“And what of the elven girl?” Roderick demands.
The apprentice shakes his head. “Gone. The tower is empty. The sphere is shattered. There appears to have been a surge. A magical backlash. We found scorch marks. Residue. But no bodies.”
No bodies. Elenora. Alive? Hurt? Lost? Free?
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