Chapter 15: Cake Crumbs and Close Calls
Elaine stood in the palace's obnoxiously decadent kitchen, shoveling forkfuls of chocolate hazelnut cake into her mouth like it held the key to rewriting fate.
It didn't. But it dulled the existential dread.
Behind her, muffled voices leaked from the parlor—Caius and Lior exchanging what sounded like "civil discourse," which in male-lead terms meant backhanded compliments and passive-aggressive remarks about magical accomplishments and, naturally, sword size.
She sighed and leaned against the marble counter, licking frosting off her thumb. Her reflection in the silver teapot looked tired. Not physically—magically. Emotionally. Existentially. Time-fractured hearts did that to a girl.
Pick one, Lior had said.
Easy for him to say. He didn't have two lifetimes' worth of emotional shrapnel wedged between his ribs.
Caius was the intended love interest of Elaine. The cursed knight who was a noble descend with a prophecy stitched into his destiny. But Lior…
Lior had never been written into the story. He'd carved a place for himself anyway. Quiet. Persistent. Present.
"Cake emergency?" came a familiar voice.
Elaine turned to find Lior leaning in the doorway, arms crossed, the softest smile tucked beneath those serious eyes.
She held up the half-eaten slice. "Don't judge. It's medicinal."
"I brought reinforcements," he said, stepping forward with a small pot of cream and two spoons.
Her heart performed a slow pirouette.
They ended up on the floor, backs against the cupboard, sharing silence and sugar in a rare moment of peace.
"So…" Lior began, dipping his spoon, "you and Caius had a thing."
"Had," she said firmly.
He took a bite. "Still makes my stomach do unfortunate gymnastics."
"Jealous?"
"I'd be a fool not to be."
Elaine blinked. "That was... honest."
Lior's voice softened. "We've looped through this story, Elaine. Time skips, broken memories, rewritten endings—it never changes how I feel. I always find you."
Before she could answer, something flickered.
A golden spark shimmered in the air near the spice rack.
"Did you see that?" she whispered.
Lior nodded. "Memory flare?"
"Too many emotions, too much history," she murmured. "Timeline's bleeding."
Another flare danced above them, warm and slow, smelling faintly of rosewater and… ink?
"May I?" Lior asked.
She nodded.
He reached up—and the moment he touched the light, his expression changed.
His breath caught. "Rain… You were soaked. Crying. You said, 'Don't forget me this time.' I was holding you, but everything was crumbling—like the world was unraveling."
Elaine's throat tightened.
"You disappeared," he whispered. "No—we did. Together."
She nodded slowly.
Lior cupped her cheek gently, as if trying to ground himself in this version of her. "We knew. We loved each other anyway."
Their faces were inches apart. Her heart thundered.
The timeline hummed.
And just as his lips brushed hers—
BOOM.
The kitchen door exploded inward, sending a gust of glittery wind and a very soapy Caius tumbling through.
"I—may have cast the wrong spell," he gasped, coughing out a shimmering bubble. "Tried to accelerate memory recovery. Apparently, the memory web in this palace is... saturated."
Elaine gawked. "What. Did. You. Do?"
Caius stood up, dripping enchanted whipped cream. "I might've triggered a recursive memory loop. Possibly destabilized the barrier between versions. There's… a slight chance the palace is now syncing with alternate timelines."
Lior jumped to his feet. "You what?!"
Elaine groaned, brushing cake crumbs off her lap. "Of course you two turned my kitchen into a chronomagical hazard zone."
Caius grinned sheepishly. "At least I'm consistent?"
She grabbed her plate. "I'm going to the observatory. Alone. Don't follow me unless one of you learns impulse control."
As she walked off, sparks flickered along the walls—echoes of forgotten timelines trying to push through.
Lior stared after her. "You think she'll ever pick?"
Caius, still sparkling, looked unusually serious. "She might not get the chance."
Lior frowned. "What does that mean?"
Caius's voice dropped. "That spell I triggered? It didn't just unlock our memories. It may have awakened someone else's."
A silence stretched.
Then—faint, from somewhere deep in the palace—a child's voice laughed.
And reality shivered.