Blood Roses and Broken Chains

Chapter 27

The suite was far more luxurious than anything Elishia had ever experienced.

A large porthole window with polished brass fittings offered a breathtaking view of the ocean, the water stretching endlessly beneath a sky scattered with stars, the moon casting a silvery path across the dark waves. A queen-sized bed dominated the center of the room, its cream-colored linens looking impossibly soft and inviting. To the side sat a plush sitting area with velvet chairs, a small bar stocked with crystal decanters, and fresh flowers arranged in an elegant vase that filled the air with a subtle, sweet fragrance.

This is real, she thought, still struggling to fully process it.

I’m really going home.

Mark had disappeared into the bathroom moments ago, leaving her alone to explore. She moved to the window, pressing her palm against the cool glass as she watched the water below. The ship cut through the waves with barely a tremor, so smooth it was easy to forget they were moving at all.

Behind her, she heard the bathroom door open.

“Well, Princess, I think we’ve officially upgraded from ‘barely surviving’ to ‘obscenely comfortable.'” Mark’s voice carried that familiar teasing lilt as he emerged, running a towel through his damp hair. He’d changed into casual clothes—dark pants and a simple white shirt that somehow made him look both relaxed and… distractingly attractive.

His face was composed now, wearing that same cocky mask he always used to deflect and distance. But Elishia remembered—just hours ago, when she’d turned and caught him with tears streaming down his face. He’d looked so raw then, so vulnerable, like something inside him had finally cracked open. She’d watched him wipe those tears away quickly, watched him force that familiar smirk back into place as if nothing had happened.

What were you thinking about? she wondered, studying him as he casually tossed the towel aside. What made someone like you cry?

She wanted to ask, wanted to understand what had caused that moment of unguarded emotion. But the walls were back up now, his golden eyes carefully neutral, his posture deliberately relaxed. Whatever door had briefly opened had been firmly closed again.

Maybe someday he’ll tell me, she thought. Or maybe he never will.

Elishia turned from the window, fighting the heat rising in her cheeks. “Where did you get the money for all this?” she asked, gesturing around the opulent suite. “This must have cost a fortune. And those clothes, the fake IDs, the—”

“Ah, there she goes again,” Mark interrupted, tossing the towel onto a nearby chair with theatrical exasperation. “Can’t just enjoy the moment, can you? Always with the questions.”

“Mark—”

“You know what your problem is?” He crossed the room toward her, that insufferable smirk playing at his lips. “You think too much. It’s exhausting just watching you.”

“I think too much?” Elishia’s eyes narrowed. “You literally dragged me through half the city without explanation, made me change clothes in an alley, and somehow got us onto a luxury cruise ship with fake identities. I think my questions are perfectly reasonable.”

“Reasonable, sure. But also boring.” He stopped just in front of her, close enough that she had to tilt her head back to maintain eye contact. “We’re on a ship to Trillen, Princess. You’re going home. Can’t that be enough for now?”

The sincerity beneath his casual tone made her chest tighten. He was deflecting—she could tell—but there was something else there too. Something that looked almost like… protectiveness.

“How did you even afford this?” she pressed, refusing to be distracted. “This suite alone must cost thousands. And you’re wearing a suit that actually fits, which means—”

“Maybe I’m secretly rich,” Mark suggested, wandering over to the bar and examining the decanters with exaggerated interest. “Maybe I’m the long-lost heir to some fortune and I’ve been slumming it in the streets for fun.”

“Be serious.”

“Maybe I won a lottery.”

“Mark.”

“Maybe I robbed a bank.” He glanced at her with mock innocence. “Would that be so surprising?”

Elishia crossed her arms, trying to look stern despite the smile threatening to break through. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet here you are, stuck with me for the next few days.” He poured something amber into a crystal glass—whiskey, probably—and took a sip. “Better get used to it, Princess.”

She watched him for a moment, noting the way his shoulders had relaxed since they’d boarded, the way some of the tension had finally left his jaw. Whatever he’d done to get them here, whatever it had cost him… he wasn’t going to tell her. Not yet, anyway.

Maybe not ever, she thought with a pang of something that felt uncomfortably like worry.

“At least tell me we’re not going to get arrested,” she said finally, moving to one of the velvet chairs and sinking into it. The fabric was as soft as it looked. “These fake IDs… they’re good enough, right?”

“The best money can buy,” Mark assured her, though he still didn’t elaborate on where that money had come from. “Trust me, we’re not getting caught.”

“You keep saying that. ‘Trust me.'” Elishia leaned back, studying him. “But you won’t actually tell me anything.”

Mark set down his glass and moved to sit in the chair opposite hers, his expression shifting into something more serious. “Some things are better left unknown, Princess. For your safety and mine.”

“That’s not fair.”

“No,” he agreed quietly. “It’s not. But it’s necessary.”

The weight of his words settled between them, heavy with implications she wasn’t sure she wanted to unpack. Before she could press further, a soft chime echoed through the suite—the dinner bell, announcing that the first evening meal would be served in an hour.

Mark’s demeanor shifted instantly, the serious moment dissolving. “Actually, how about we have dinner here instead? I can have it brought to the room.”

“You did say you’ll have it delivered instead.” Elishia blinked.

“More private and more comfortable.” He grinned. “And I won’t have to watch you stress about which fork to use.”

“I know which fork to use,” she protested, but there was no real heat in it.

“Sure you do, Princess.” He was already moving to the phone by the bedside. “Trust me, the food will be just as good, and you won’t have to deal with stuffy rich people staring at us.”

An hour later, their small dining table by the porthole window was laden with dishes that looked like they belonged in a magazine spread.

Mark had ordered what seemed like half the menu—delicate appetizers, perfectly cooked main courses, desserts that were almost too beautiful to eat. The crystal and porcelain gleamed in the soft light from the suite’s lamps, and the smell alone was enough to make Elishia’s stomach growl.

She settled into her chair, still marveling at the absurdity of the situation. Just days ago, she’d been eating canned stew in Dr. Chen’s cramped kitchen. Now she was on a luxury cruise ship, surrounded by opulence she couldn’t have imagined.

“See?” Mark said, taking the seat across from her. “Much better than dealing with the dining hall crowd.”

He was right, though she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of admitting it.

As they began to eat, Mark kept up his usual commentary—ridiculous observations about the food, terrible jokes that somehow still made her laugh, exaggerated stories about imaginary passengers they’d never met. But beneath the humor, Elishia noticed something different in the way he watched her.

His eyes lingered.

Not in an uncomfortable way, but with an intensity that made her hyperaware of every movement she made. When she smiled at one of his jokes, his gaze would soften. When she took a bite and hummed in appreciation at the taste, something flickered across his face—something that looked almost like pain.

She didn’t understand it, didn’t know how to interpret the weight of his attention.

But Mark…

God, she’s beautiful, he thought, watching her savor a bite of the main course. The soft lamplight caught in her dark hair, making it shine like silk, and that small smile playing at her lips—content, relaxed, finally at peace—made his chest ache in ways he couldn’t name.

He remembered the way she’d looked at him a while ago, when she’d turned and caught him crying. Those gray eyes had been so wide with concern, so full of worry for him—as if he deserved her care, as if he was worth the compassion she so freely offered. The memory of it made something twist painfully behind his ribs.

And that kiss. God, that stolen moment when he’d given in to impulse and pressed his lips to hers. It had been brief, fleeting, barely more than a whisper of contact. But he’d felt it echo through his entire body, had felt something fundamental shift in his chest.

If I could, I’d kiss her again, he admitted to himself, watching her hum softly as she tried the dessert. Right now. I’d lean across this table and—

But he wouldn’t. Couldn’t.

Because in just a few days, maybe a week, they’d dock in Trillen. And she’d walk off this ship and back into her real life—her studies, her future, her world that had no place for someone like him. She’d return to safety and normalcy, while he’d…

He would….

In fact, he didn’t know where to go—no he knows now, but facing it, he didn’t know how.

Will I ever see her again after this?

The question sat heavy in his gut, a weight he couldn’t shake. He had no answer, no plan beyond getting her home safely. The future beyond that was a blank wall, impossible to see past.

So he did what he always did—he locked it away, shoved it into that dark corner of his mind where uncomfortable truths went to die, and focused on the present.

On her.

On these stolen moments that would have to be enough.

Elishia looked up, catching him staring, and raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“Nothing,” he said quickly, forcing his trademark smirk back into place. “Just wondering if you’re going to finish that or if I can steal a bite.”

She laughed—a soft, genuine sound that made his heart do something stupid in his chest—and pushed the plate toward him. “Go ahead. I’m getting full anyway.”

Remember this, he told himself, committing every detail to memory. The way she laughs. The way she hums when she likes something. The way the lamplight catches in her hair. The exact shade of gray her eyes turn when she’s content.

Remember it all. Because you won’t get many more chances.

“Thank you,” she said softly, interrupting one of his ridiculous stories about the imaginary couple two doors down.

He paused, his expression shifting. “For what?”

“For this. For getting me here. For…” She gestured vaguely, unable to find words adequate for what she was trying to express. “Everything.”

Mark’s usual smirk softened into something gentler. “You don’t have to thank me, Princess.”

“Yes, I do.” Her throat felt tight. “I don’t know how you did it or what it cost you, but… I’m grateful. More than I can say.”

For once, Mark didn’t deflect with a joke. He simply reached across the table and took her hand, his thumb brushing over her knuckles in a gesture so tender it made her heart ache.

“Then just focus on getting home,” he said quietly. “That’s all the thanks I need.”

Liar, he thought even as he said it. What I need is to keep you safe. What I need is to see you smile like this every day. What I need is something I can’t have.

But he kept those thoughts locked behind his teeth, hidden behind the gentle pressure of his hand on hers, buried beneath the weight of everything he couldn’t say.

By the time they finished eating, exhaustion had finally caught up with Elishia. The adrenaline that had kept her going for days was draining away, replaced by a bone-deep weariness that made every step feel like wading through water.

“You should get some sleep,” Mark said, noticing her drooping eyelids. “It’s been a long day.”

“That’s an understatement,” she mumbled, moving toward the bed. The mattress looked like heaven—soft and inviting and impossibly comfortable after so many nights on the clinic’s narrow cot.

She collapsed onto it with a small sound of relief, sinking into the pillows like they were made of clouds. Her eyes were already drifting closed when she felt the bed shift slightly.

“Mark?” she murmured, too tired to open her eyes.

“Just making sure you’re comfortable,” his voice came from somewhere nearby. “Go to sleep, Princess.”

“Will you be here?” The question slipped out before she could stop it, vulnerable and small.

A pause. Then: “I’m not going anywhere.”

That promise, spoken in the darkness of the suite with the gentle rocking of the ship beneath them, was enough. Elishia let herself sink into sleep, her last conscious thought a mixture of relief and anticipation.

Trillen. I’m going home.

And somehow, impossibly, that felt real now. Not just a desperate hope, but an actual future stretching out before her—one where she could return to her life, her studies, her normalcy.

Though as sleep claimed her completely, a small part of her whispered a question she wasn’t ready to answer: What happens to Mark when we get there?

But exhaustion was stronger than curiosity, and the question dissolved into dreams of home.

Mark stayed in the chair by the window long after her breathing had evened out into sleep. He watched her in the darkness, illuminated only by the moonlight streaming through the porthole, and allowed himself this one moment of honesty.

I love you, he thought, the words so clear in his mind they might as well have been spoken aloud. I love you, and I’m going to lose you, and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.

But at least he’d have this—these few days of watching her heal, of seeing her smile return, of keeping her safe one last time before reality pulled them apart.

It would have to be enough.

It would have to be.

Bee

Hello Bee here, author of Blood Roses and Broken Chains and To You, Whom I Owe Everything. If you love my work, please leave a comment or hit that vote button below to show support, it'd be deeply appreciated. You can show support through Ko-fi as well ➡️here.

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Chapter 27

Blood Roses and Broken Chains

Chapter 27

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