(A/N: This is the last chapter of the story, because I intended for it to be a one-shot but got carried away. If you liked this, then check out my two other stories. If you guys like it enough, I'll probably continue this one. I have a work in progress coming for an alternate TOG6 book, which will be way longer, so stay tuned! :) )

Elide had never been to the famous palace in Rifthold, but it seemed everyone else who lived in Terrasen had, which made it all the more embarrassing as Elide slowly got off of Abraxos and gaped in awe at the sheer beauty of the palace.

The Terrasen palace was… a work in progress, at best. Aelin, since being freed from Maeve's clutches, had been working hard to get Terrasen back, defeat Maeve, lock up Erawan, and seal the Wyrdgates that she barely even had time to think of the palace's aesthetic value most times. Even now, months after the war was over, the palace was still very much lacking.

Dorian's—Adarlan's palace was beautiful. The glass wall that once surrounded the city had been removed by some force of magic, maybe Dorian or whoever he had called upon for help. The new palace was crafted from white marble with swirls of marvelous pastel colors.

"Elide, the entrance is this way." Manon said, walking straight ahead to a grand set of doors. Once they reached there, they saw a muscular man with light brown hair standing guard. His hand tightened around his sword at the sight of Manon.

"Chaol Westfall. I didn't think I'd see you again. I'd presumed you were dead in the months after the ordeal that turned Rifthold, essentially, to glass. Imagine my surprise when I found out that this human, struck dumb out of his love for the prince—whatever that may be, had survived. Unscathed, as well." Surveyed Manon.

His head dipped in what one might call a bow.

"The Torre Cesme did wondrous things for me, and I am forever in their debt," said the man she now knew was Chaol. If only he knew all the things—good and bad—Aelin had said about him over dinner conversations. "The event is in the main ballroom. I assume you've been there before… you likely know your way around here." Nipped Chaol.

Manon sneered at him, showing her iron teeth.

It took Elide a bit to understand.

Manon had once been involved with Dorian, with the now King of Adarlan. She'd heard it in passing from Lysandra, who, every now and then, would murmur something about 'chains' and quickly shift into an insect and fly away before Manon could do anything to her. She'd always thought it was a joke, that maybe they'd flirted on the boat that everyone had shared, but nothing more.

Apparently, there was much more.

Manon pulled a strand of hair out of her face and tucked it into the strip of fabric that held all of hair up, and began to walk. Elide followed behind, her legs doing twice the work, as they were a good few inches shorter than Manon's.

"I didn't know you bedded Dorian." Elide blurted out after too long of silence.

Manon continued walking.

"I mean, it's fine, I'm not going to judge you. Why would I? It's just…I thought, you know…" Elide trailed off.

Manon turned to her, golden eyes ablaze.

"You thought what? You thought that I'd tell you? I don't have to tell you, or anyone, for that matter, anything." She kept walking, and Elide slowly felt anger trickle up her spine.

They walked into the ballroom and greeted a few people, Elide kissing their cheeks and Manon shaking hands. They greeted the king, as well, who was civil to both of them.

When they stopped along a table lined with foods, Elide finally felt the anger rise to her chest. She put her hand on the table.

"You know what, Manon? No, you don't have to tell me anything. Quite frankly, you don't have to do anything for me, but guess what? You did. You saved me from my uncle, carried me away from Morath as it burned, told me how to get to Terrasen. You did those things because you care… about me, for me, I don't know. I don't even know if there's a difference. But you can't act like you don't care. You can't tell me that I'm just like anyone else to you." Elide was angry, but kept her voice low enough that no one but Manon would hear.

The witch met her eyes and said nothing. Moments passed, and still she was silent.

Elide sighed frustratedly.

"Actually, forget it. If I'm just like anyone else to you, that's fine. Why would I care? I don't." Lied Elide, and she knew Manon knew she wasn't telling the truth. With that, Elide pivoted on her heel and walked away to go socialize with Nesryn, whom she seldom talked with.

Small talk was exchanged by them for a bit, Elide only half-focused, when Nesryn said a polite goodbye, striding out the doors, presumably to switch places with Chaol.

With a deep breath, Elide looked around the room for a moment before stepping out into the hallway, and climbed up the stairs to the room she'd be staying in tonight—with Manon. Aelin hadn't informed her that everyone would be staying the night, but apparently the entire Terrasen court would be staying at the palace, if only to give the wyverns a chance to rest—she'd only informed her once they'd arrived.

She shut the door behind her, not bothering to look around the spacious area. She simply took out the earrings and lay on the bed.

After an hour of half-sleep, Elide heard the door creak open, and light footsteps stop once they reached the bed.

"Gods above," Manon muttered. Elide opened her eyes, pissed.

"If you're going to complain about my speech, save it for—" Elide was cut off.

"No… that's not it. The bed." Manon looked past Elide's head, to the single headboard.

A single headboard, for a single bed…

"Not my fault." Elide covered her eyes, deeming this an issue for her to deal with later. If anything, she'd just request for Dorian to give her a different room, but, still, it made her think…

Who chose for them to have a room with one bed? Did others think that they

Elide could tell Manon was thinking the same thing. The witch sat on the bed next to her, pulling her white hair loose and letting it fall over her shoulders. Elide sat up, crossing her legs. Her knees almost touched Manon's thighs, while the witch sat, facing the wall.

"Elide," Manon began, dragging a hand down her face. "Elide… I shouldn't have said that I didn't mean to sound so harsh. The only reason I said that… I just…"

Elide didn't quite remember what happened in the next few moments. She knew that she wanted to do it, found herself staring at Manon's cheeks as she continued on, then to her lips.

"Manon," she whispered. Manon didn't hear her, and continued trying to explain, but Elide was sure she understood.

"Manon." Repeated Elide, and when she still didn't respond, Elide rose up to her knees and pressed her lips against Manon's.

Heat rushed through her body, along with an odd sense of belonging, of comfort. Manon's lips felt soft against hers, and, at first, the witch hesitated against Elide's lips.

Elide was about to draw back when she felt Manon's hands venture to her hair, getting entangled in the maze of curls that she'd slept on earlier.

The witch tasted like cinnamon and fire, Elide felt she was going to burn under her touch, yet couldn't draw herself away. Eventually, though, Manon removed her lips.

"I've got the slightest feeling you've been meaning to do that for a while, Elide Lochan." She smirked. Elide only smiled, placing her hand on Manon's face.

"Listen, Manon… I care for you, and I know the feeling is mutual. I see it whenever you inch closer to me unconsciously, and when you trust me enough to fall asleep in the same room as me… I understand what you've been through, and I'll hope you understand my past, too. I understand how you are, that you're scared of this, but I want you to know that this—us—is real, we're real. I know it'll be difficult for you to…be with me, and I can comprehend that. I just want you never to forget that I care about you, Manon Blackbeak."

A tear slid from Manon's eye as she lowered her hand to Elide's neck and answered her question with a slow, intimate kiss.