"You came here because you need something from me," Elka said firmly. "Not because you missed me. Stop deluding yourself."

Laena’s expression flickered with something close to irritation before she smoothed it away. "Elka, darling—"

"Get out."

The words left Elka’s mouth before she could reconsider them. They felt strange on her tongue, raw and final. She had never spoken to her mother this way before.

Laena blinked, genuinely startled. "You would turn away your own mother?"

"I am turning away the woman who watched my father flog the skin from my back and said nothing," Elka replied, her voice low and trembling with fury. "The woman who gave me to a man who couldn’t care less about my existence. Leave. Now. And do not come back."

For several heartbeats, the two women stared at each other. Something dark and ugly passed behind Laena’s eyes before she lifted her chin.

"Very well," she said softly. "But this is not over, Elka. Your father will not be as... understanding as I am."

She turned and walked out without another word. Mara closed the door behind her before clicking the latch shut.

Elka moved to the window on unsteady legs. She watched her mother’s figure retreat down the path toward the road, back straight and proud even now.

Her chest felt tight, as though invisible ropes were already wrapping around her. The fragile peace she had found here—the garden, the anonymity, the simple joy of living on her own terms—suddenly felt paper-thin.

She pressed a hand to her racing heart and closed her eyes.

The past had found her after all.

The days after her mother’s visit were overshadowed by a growing sense of dread, accompanied by a crushing tension that seemed determined to squeeze the air from her lungs.

Elka spent most of her time indoors. She sat in the parlour, a wooden hoop in her lap, carefully pushing a needle through the linen fabric. The pattern was simple, small blue flowers along the edge of a handkerchief. Nothing grand or intricate, just something to keep her hands occupied. Each careful stitch helped steady her breathing, even as her mind refused to settle.

She barely left the cottage. The market no longer felt safe. Even the cliff path, which had once brought her peace, now made her feel too exposed. Every figure in the distance caused her pulse to quicken. At night she slept poorly, waking at the smallest sound.

The scars on her back seemed to burn more often these days, as if her body was preparing for old pain to return.

And with every day that passed, Mara became more anxious and worried about her employer. She moved around the cottage quietly so as not to startle Elka.

She brought Elka tea without being asked and leaving her to her embroidery when she sensed she needed space. Their conversations had grown shorter, weighed down by things neither of them were saying aloud.

On the sixth morning, the sky was heavy with dark clouds rolling in from the sea. A cool wind rattled the shutters. Elka sat at the small wooden table, needle moving steadily through the linen, when Mara appeared in the doorway.

"Your mother is here, my lady," she said, her voice low. "And she brought a man this time."

Elka’s hands stilled. The needle hovered above the fabric as a cold weight settled in her stomach. She set the embroidery hoop down carefully, smoothing her hands over her skirt before standing. Her heart was already beating too fast.

When she stepped into the foyer, her father dominated the small space. Lord Halric Nereth’s broad shoulders and heavy presence made the modest cottage feel suddenly suffocating. His eyes, cold and impatient, fixed on her the moment she appeared. Laena stood a step behind him, silent and watchful as always.

"Enough of this foolishness," her father said, his voice rough and commanding. "Your mother told you what we want. You will speak to King Ragnar. You will use whatever favor you have with him to secure us a pardon, or at least a lighter sentence for our part in the rebellion."

Elka remained where she was. Her hands curled slowly into fists at her sides.

"I will not," she said.

Her father’s face darkened. He took a heavy step forward, the floorboards creaking under his boots.

"You forget your place, girl. Everything you have came from this family. From me. I arranged your marriage. I taught you discipline when you were stubborn and ungrateful. And now you hide here like a common peasant while we face the king’s wrath?"

The words struck deep. Elka felt the old familiar burn across her back, as though the scars were awakening at the sound of his voice. She remembered the night he had dragged her and flogged her for refusing to marry Hairan. She remembered the sting of salt rubbed into the open wounds as further punishment. She remembered her mother watching from above in silence.

"You taught me nothing but fear and pain," Elka said, her voice low but steady. "You beat me bloody for daring to say no."

Halric’s face twisted with rage. Without warning, he crossed the room in two strides and struck her hard across the face with the back of his hand. The force snapped her head to the side and sent her stumbling into the wall.

Pain exploded across her cheek and lip. The metallic taste of blood filled her mouth instantly.

For a moment, she was no longer standing in her cottage. She was a girl again, crumpled on the cold stone floor, her father’s whip rising and falling while her mother looked away.

Before she could recover, he grabbed her arm in a bruising grip, his fingers digging painfully into her flesh.

"You will help us," he snarled, shaking her once. "Refuse me again, and I will destroy this pathetic little hubble."

Elka wrenched her arm free, breathing hard. Her cheek throbbed and her lip had already begun to swell. She stared at her father with hatred, years of suppressed rage burning in her chest.

"Get out of my house," she said through gritted teeth.

Her father glared at her for several long seconds, his face flushed with anger. Laena remained silent, watching the scene with that same cold detachment she had shown all Elka’s life.

Without another word, Halric turned and stormed out. Laena followed, casting one final look at her daughter before pulling the door shut behind them.

The cottage fell quiet once more. Elka stood motionless, one hand pressed to her burning cheek. The pain was sharp, but the memories hurt far worse. She could still feel every strike from her childhood, every night she had cried herself to sleep alone.

Mara appeared beside her without a word and led her by the hand to the kitchen. She pressed a cool, damp cloth against Elka’s swollen face.

"They will keep coming," Elka whispered, staring at the floor. Her voice was quiet, but there was no mistaking the fear in it. "Every time they return, they take something else from me. My peace. My safety. My freedom."