The Spring Summoner and the Winter Duke

Adelaide stirred from a long, dreamless sleep, her eyelids heavy as she blinked against the soft light filtering through the sheer curtains. The morning sun cast a warm glow, illuminating the modest furnishings of her chamber and bathing the walls in a gentle golden hue. The air carried the faint yet soothing scent of lavender and sage, a calming balm that barely masked the underlying mustiness clinging to the room's corners—like the lingering echoes of something long forgotten. As she pushed herself upright, the weight of her weariness settled heavily on her chest, making every movement feel like she was wading through thick fog. Suddenly, three faces loomed above her, eyes wide with excitement, shattering the silence that enveloped her like a cocoon. “Lady Adelaide! You’re awake!” squealed Maris, the youngest of her maids, a copper-haired girl whose teary green eyes shimmered with a mix of relief and joy. Her smile was watery, trembling at the edges, as if afraid to fully bloom in the wake of the uncertainty they had faced. “Praise the gods, you’ve finally returned to us!” chimed Cecily, the middle maid with brown hair and warm hazel eyes that sparkled with genuine delight, a stark contrast to the heavy anxiety that had darkened the room during Adelaide’s absence. “Quiet, ladies,” cautioned Elaine, the eldest maid, her voice steady and soothing, a calming presence amid the youthful exuberance. Her sharp features softened by concern, and icy blue eyes bore into Adelaide with a mix of authority and compassion. Her pale blonde hair, streaked with silver, was tied back in a practical bun, giving her an air of maturity that steadied the atmosphere like the gentle rustle of leaves in a windless grove. “You’ve been through a lot, my lady. Three days of sleep can’t be taken lightly.” Adelaide blinked, confusion swirling like the morning mist around her thoughts. “Three days?” she echoed, her voice hoarse and brittle, cracking like dry twigs underfoot. A painful burn settled in her throat, and she coughed weakly, the sound sounding foreign and alarming in the quiet room. Cecily was quick to move to her side, the warm glow of her presence wrapping around Adelaide like a comforting shawl. “Here, my lady,” she urged gently, offering a glass of cool water. The liquid soothed her parched throat, its refreshing touch invigorating as she drank deeply, each swallow easing the pain that had lodged itself within her. Yet, as the coolness spread through her, Adelaide's mind raced, trying to grasp the memories of the battle that had led her here. She furrowed her brow, searching for threads of recollection in the fog that clouded her mind. “What happened?” she managed to ask, her voice trembling with unease. “I can barely remember…” Maris, still kneeling by her bedside, grasped her hand tightly, her small fingers trembling. “You were hurt badly—badly—in the expedition to suppress the Aedrea in the south, my lady,” she whimpered, her voice breaking. Tears spilt from her eyes, tracking down her cheeks like raindrops on a fragile petal. “We thought we’d lost you, my lady.” A pang of anguish twisted in Adelaide’s chest at the sight of Maris’s distress. She blinked, pushing away the last vestiges of sleep, yet something in their words didn’t sit right. A nagging sense of disorientation prickled at the edges of her consciousness, a space where memories should have been. But she was too weak, too disoriented to press the issue further. Instead, she silently agreed with their explanation, letting it envelop her like a shroud. “How do you feel right now, my lady?” Elaine asked, her tone gentle yet probing, the steady warmth of her presence anchoring Adelaide to the moment. “Shall I fix a meal for you?” Adelaide nodded weakly, the effort making her head spin. “Something light, please,” she replied, her voice barely a whisper, as if speaking too loudly would shatter the fragile bubble of comfort surrounding her. At once, Maris jumped up, her copper hair bouncing like flames in the sunlight as she rushed out of the room to fetch some broth. Alone with Elaine and Cecily, Adelaide closed her eyes, desperately trying to piece together the memories of the expedition three days prior. Flickers of shadowy figures and cries of battle danced behind her eyelids, but each time she reached for them, they slipped away like grains of sand through her fingers. The deeper Adelaide dug into her memories, the more horrific images began to flash behind her eyes. Twisted forms of monsters loomed in her mind—grotesque creatures, their bodies writhing with unnatural movement. Some had jagged, misshapen limbs, bent at impossible angles as if their bones had shattered and reformed with malice. Others slithered, their slimy skin stretched taut over their deformed bodies, their scales dripping with a putrid, mucus-like substance that stank of rot and decay. She could almost taste the foul stench in the air—the sickly sweet scent of death clinging to their every movement, thick and overwhelming. Their eyes—yellow, red, and black—glowed with malice, gleaming from deep-set sockets, their mouths filled with rows of needle-like teeth, snapping hungrily as they charged. The Aedra. A shiver ran down her spine as the fragmented memories of the battle took shape. She didn’t usually get hurt, not like this. Her mind raced—what had gone wrong? It came back to her suddenly, the image sharp and painful. It was the new recruit. He had frozen on the battlefield, wide-eyed in terror, his sword slipping from his trembling hands as the Aedra bore down on them. She hadn’t thought twice before jumping in to protect him, placing herself between the creature and Kaelen, her brother. A soft huff escaped her lips, her thoughts pulling her from the nightmare. Despite the pain lancing through her body, the corners of her lips curled into a smile. Big brother Ignis must be so mad, she thought with a fondness that pushed through the haze of pain. Kaelen Ignis, the leader of the Great Elementals and commander of their forces, hated losing—hated failure even more. And if one of his soldiers was gravely injured because of an error, she couldn’t imagine the fury boiling inside him now. But Adelaide wasn’t just a soldier. She was the youngest, the baby of the Great Elementals. He would be absolutely livid. That soldier better prepares himself, she thought, her smile turning slightly bitter. If he didn’t fall to the Aedra first, Kaelen will make sure he faces the consequences. The Aedra—those abominations that had poured into their lands nearly two decades ago—were unlike any enemy they had ever known. Once the rift had opened, there had been no turning back. Their invasions came like waves, each one more relentless than the last, threatening to drown their world in darkness. The door creaked open again, pulling her out of her thoughts. Maris returned, her small hands carrying a tray with a small bowl of steaming broth. The warm scent of chicken and herbs drifted faintly through the air, but Adelaide frowned. The aroma was distant, almost imperceptible. It was as though her senses had been dulled—muted, like the edges of a dream slipping from her grasp. Even the rich, familiar scent of the broth barely registered, as though the world around her was fading in and out of focus. "Here you are, my lady," Maris said, her voice bright with an attempt at cheerfulness, though the strain in her eyes betrayed her worry. She carefully placed the tray on Adelaide’s lap, her hands trembling slightly, and Cecily once again helped Adelaide sit up, plumping the pillows behind her with gentle precision. Adelaide stared at the bowl for a moment, the simple act of lifting the spoon feeling like an immense task. Her hand finally closed around the porcelain handle, its warmth familiar but distant, and she dipped the spoon into the broth. Each sip went down slowly, the taste of chicken and herbs barely filling her senses. The warmth from the broth spread through her body like a faint ember trying to catch fire, but no matter how much she sipped, the cold knot of anxiety remained twisted deep in her gut. Her mind kept returning to the battle—what had she missed? Why couldn’t she remember all of it? What happened after she jumped in to save Kaelen? She closed her eyes, the broth now tasteless on her tongue, and tried to shake the unsettling feeling that gnawed at her. There was a void in her memory, a gaping hole that made her chest tighten with dread. It was like reaching into darkness and finding nothing there but cold, empty air. Maris watched her nervously, biting her lip, clearly wanting to say something but hesitant to disturb the silence that had fallen between them. Cecily’s hands remained steady on her shoulders, a comforting weight, while Elaine stood just beyond the bed, her sharp gaze ever watchful, as if she too sensed the unspoken questions swirling in the room. Adelaide forced herself to smile, though the expression felt fragile. “Thank you, Maris,” she murmured, her voice softer than she intended. “It’s good to be home.” But as the words left her lips, a ripple of unease washed over her. She shifted her attention to the room around her, the details slowly coming into focus through the haze of fatigue. The soft flutter of the curtains caught her eye, stirred by a gentle breeze that drifted in from a window left slightly ajar. The scent of the gardens outside filled the space—fresh earth, blooming roses, and the dampness of stone washed by morning dew. This… this isn’t home. A deep frown creased her brow. Her gaze swept over the room once more, taking in the elaborate tapestries that hung from the walls, the intricate carvings on the furniture, and the gilded mouldings that framed the ceiling. The air here was too still, too quiet. The lavish decor felt stifling, a far cry from the familiar, lived-in feel of her chambers at the Summit of Seasons. There was something cold about this place, a formality that put her on edge. Her voice came out rough, dry from disuse. “Why am I here?” she rasped, her throat still raw. “This is not the Summit.” Maris, who had been rearranging the pillows at the foot of the bed, froze. Her wide green eyes darted nervously to Cecily, who stood by Adelaide’s side, lips pressed into a thin line. Even Elaine, calm and collected as ever, glanced toward the door, her icy blue eyes narrowing slightly as if expecting an unwelcome visitor. Cecily was the first to speak, her voice hesitant but steady. “They summoned us away from the Summit in secret, my lady. We don’t know the full reason, only that we were ordered to watch over you here.” The words hung in the air like an unanswered question. Adelaide’s frown deepened, distrust gnawing at her insides. “For protection,” she reasoned aloud, though even as she said it, she knew something wasn’t right. No, that wasn’t it—this wasn’t just about keeping her safe. She narrowed her eyes, the knot in her gut tightening. “Protection from what?” she asked, her voice low, but no one answered. Maris fiddled with the edge of her apron, clearly uncomfortable, while Cecily cast a glance at Elaine. The eldest maid stepped forward then, her face resolute, the lines around her mouth hardening. “You’re safe here, my lady,” she said firmly, her tone brooking no argument. “No one will be allowed in while you rest. We’ve made sure of it.” Adelaide regarded her for a long moment, searching her face for any hint of deceit, but found none. Elaine had always been a woman of her word, fiercely loyal and as immovable as stone. She trusted her. Still, she could feel the exhaustion creeping back into her bones, the weight of her body sinking deeper into the mattress. She didn’t have the strength to unravel these mysteries right now, not yet. She offered Elaine and the others a small, tired smile. “Thank you,” she said softly. “Then I’ll leave the rest to you.” Elaine bowed her head slightly, satisfied, while Maris and Cecily both visibly relaxed, their anxious fidgeting momentarily stilled. As the maids busied themselves tidying the room and preparing her for more rest, Adelaide closed her eyes, letting herself drift back toward the darkness, though her mind remained alert, flickering with unresolved questions. What had happened? Why had they brought her here? And, more importantly, who had made the call to pull her from the Summit in such secrecy?