Kaelos stood in the middle of the hallway, his fingers trembling slightly as he held the small piece of paper.
The palace had been bustling with activity all morning—servants running errands, nobles gathering for breakfast—but none of that mattered.
His mind had been distracted by a single moment — a palace worker, carrying a tray of bread, had tripped and fallen, dropping the tray onto Kaelos' lap.
The girl apologised profusely, but before she hurried off, she slipped the note into Kaelos' hand. A curious gesture, and Kaelos had immediately recognised the handwriting.
Athena.
He glanced around to make sure no one was watching, his eyes darting down the hallway, but the corridor was empty.
With a quick motion, he opened the note. The words seemed to leap off the page:
"Meet me at our special place, let us talk. — Athena"
Kaelos exhaled sharply, the weight of the note pressing down on him. His mind immediately flashed back to their last conversation, just before he had been bound to this marriage.
Athena's angry words, her quiet fury that had been more cutting than any harsh accusation, echoed in his mind.
"You'll lie with her, wake with her, and every time you smile in public, they'll think it's for her."
The words were a knife to his chest, and though Athena had said them in a calm voice, there had been something raw beneath the surface, something Kaelos hadn't been ready to confront.
That night, she hadn't cried—not in front of him, but the silence had spoken volumes. Her anger hadn't been for him; it had been for herself, for being the one he couldn't choose.
Kaelos gripped the paper tightly, his knuckles turning white. Was it guilt he felt? A longing that twisted in his chest? Or was it a mixture of both?
He didn't want to face her again, he thought, but at the same time, he had to.
He started to move, his feet pulling him toward the garden pavilion—their "special place," where they'd once shared everything. But before he could take another step, a voice broke through the haze of his thoughts.
"What are you doing standing here?"
Kaelos froze. He hadn't heard her approach. Elara stood at the end of the hallway, arms crossed tightly over her chest, her expression unreadable but firm.
"I'm thinking," he said, trying to keep his voice neutral.
"And what are you thinking?" Her voice was sharp, edged with something Kaelos couldn't quite place. "Because that look on your face doesn't exactly say 'thinking.'"
"Not now, Elara," he muttered, turning his back to her, hoping to end the conversation before it even began. He didn't want to deal with this—with her.
"Not now?!" Elara's voice rose, and the frustration in her tone hit Kaelos like a slap.
"Kaelos, there is never a 'now' with you. No matter how many times we speak, how many times I try to get through to you, you're always so distant, so evasive. You leave for hours, come back only to retreat further. Do you think I don't notice?"
Kaelos turned around sharply, his jaw tightening. Always this. Always her. Always this marriage.
"I never asked for this," he said, the words coming out more bitter than he intended. "I didn't ask for a wife, for a marriage that means nothing but unity. I didn't ask for you to be here. I didn't ask for this… forever that we now share."
Elara's gaze flashed with something unreadable—perhaps hurt, perhaps anger. But it was gone just as quickly as it came.
"And is that so bad?" she asked, her voice quieter now, but still edged with something—something-stubborn.
"You act like this is the end of the world, Kaelos. But this marriage is the world now. You think I wanted it? You think I wanted to be married to a man who can't even stand to be in the same room with me?"
Her words hit him harder than he expected. He wanted to argue, to push her away, but something about her pain silenced him.
"I'm stepping out for a moment," Kaelos muttered, trying to escape the moment, the suffocating weight of it all.
"No," Elara said, her voice colder now, almost commanding. "You will not leave."
Kaelos blinked, his body freezing. He had expected her to say something—maybe to plead or to beg, but this? This was unexpected.
"I don't need your permission to leave," he shot back, his voice low and firm, the irritation bubbling up once again.
"It's the second day of our marriage," she said sharply, eyes narrowing. "And you haven't once slept in our bed. Now you want to go out at dawn? After everything, you still think you can just walk away?"
The words struck him like a punch, but he didn't let it show.
"Who are you going to see?" She asked.
His gaze dropped to the paper in his hand, and Elara took a step forward, her eyes narrowing as she spotted it.
Kaelos tried to keep it from her reach, but she was quick. She grabbed the paper from his hand before he could stop her. The paper trembled in her fingers as she read it slowly, and Kaelos felt his pulse quicken.
"So this is what you're up to?" she said quietly, the anger and hurt seeping into her voice. "Athena. Who is that?"
Kaelos didn't even try to hide his frustration anymore. "It's none of your business."
"That is where you are wrong," Elara said, her voice steady but fierce. "It is my business, Kaelos. I am your wife, whether you like it or not."
He felt his heart race, a mix of guilt and defiance coiling in his chest. But he couldn't say anything more—nothing that would change anything.
He stepped back, exhaling sharply. But Elara wasn't done. She took a step closer to him, her eyes never leaving his.
"You will sleep in our room tonight," she said, her voice low and unyielding.
Kaelos scoffed, the sound escaping him before he could stop it. "And what if I don't, Elara? What if I don't want to lie next to you? What if I don't want to be here?"
"Then bring in Athena," she said, her voice biting. "Let me watch you do to her what you plan to do when you meet. At least then I'll know what kind of marriage I'm truly in, and you'll stop making a mockery of us.
He stepped back as if struck. Her words were harsh, but they weren't false. But he couldn't give her that satisfaction.
"This is ridiculous," he muttered, running a hand through his hair. "Let me ask you something, Elara. What's the worst that could happen if I do not heed your words?"
A flicker of pain passed through her eyes, but she didn't flinch. Instead, she stepped even closer. Her voice was quiet, but it carried the weight of everything she'd been holding back.
"Would you like to try me, my lord?" she said, her gaze locking with his.
The challenge in her voice was unmistakable. She was giving him a choice—a choice he wasn't ready to make.
Kaelos stared at her, the paper still clutched tightly in her hand. Silence stretched between them, thick and heavy.
Finally, he yanked the note from her fingers, crumpling it in his palm. Without another word, he turned sharply on his heel, his footsteps echoing down the corridor.
Leaving Elara standing alone.
______
The garden pavilion was dimly lit by the fading sun. Ivy crept up the marble pillars, and the scent of night jasmine curled through the air.
Athena stood near the edge of the fountain, cloaked in twilight, her arms wrapped around herself, as if the cold was more than just the breeze.
Kaelos slowed as he approached. His boots barely made a sound against the stone. For a moment, he wondered if she'd vanish the second he got too close, like all the things he couldn't hold on to.
"You came," she said, her voice soft but laced with something sharp underneath.
"I wasn't sure I would."
She let out a quiet laugh, brittle at the edges. "You always say that. And yet, every time, you come."
"That doesn't mean it's easy."
"No," she said, turning fully to face him now. Her gown caught the wind, midnight blue, hugging her like a second skin. "Only that I still matter enough to make you feel torn."
Kaelos looked away, jaw tight. "You know I care about you."
"Do you?" she stepped forward. "Because it's starting to feel like I'm just the shadow you visit when the lights in your palace burn too bright."
"That's not fair."
"Fair?" she echoed, her voice rising. "You stood in front of me and promised you'd find a way. That you'd speak to your father, that you'd—" She broke off, swallowing hard. "And then the wedding bells rang. And you haven't even looked for me."
"Athena…"
She held up a hand. "Don't give me your pity. I don't want it."
He took a step toward her. Their eyes met, and for a second, everything fell away—the obligations, the throne, the cold bed waiting for him upstairs.
"I miss you," Athena whispered. "Every night, I wonder if you miss me too. If you think about the way I used to sneak into your chambers. About how you'd say my name like it was a secret."
Kaelos didn't answer. Instead, he stepped closer, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. She leaned into his touch, her breath trembling.
"Say you still want me," she whispered.
His lips were already descending toward hers before the thought had finished forming in his mind.
Their mouths met, tentative at first, then deeper, familiar. Her hands clutched the front of his tunic, pulling him into her. He didn't resist. He couldn't.
Kaelos pressed her back gently against one of the marble columns, their shadows dancing on the stone. Her fingers moved to the clasps at his collar, undoing them slowly, reverently—as if every inch of skin she uncovered was holy.
His breath caught when she reached his waist, fingers playing with the hem of his trousers.
Then, Elara's voice rose in his mind.
"Then bring in Athena… and let me watch you do to her what you plan to do when you meet."
Her voice. Her fire. Her pride. That look in her eyes.
He flinched.
"Kaelos?" Athena whispered, pausing when she felt the shift in him.
He pulled back, blinking as if waking from a dream.
"I—" His voice cracked. He stepped away, hastily fixing the clasps of his tunic.
"What are you doing?" she asked, her tone tight.
"I can't stay."
"Are you okay?" She asked.
"I'm sorry, Athena, I just….can't."
Athena stepped forward, her eyes shining in realisation.
"Don't you dare leave me again, Kaelos."
"I shouldn't have come."
"But you did," she said, trembling. "And you kissed me. You wanted me."
"I still want you." The admission came fast and raw. "But I can't keep doing this. I can't be yours in the dark while I wear someone else's crown by day."
"Then choose me."
Kaelos looked at her with something broken in his expression. "You may be the only thing that ever felt real… but Elara is my wife now. And I have to live with that."
He turned from her.
"She'll never love you like I do."
"Maybe not," he said, pausing at the edge of the pavilion, "but she knows of this."
"And shouldn't that be a good thing. That she knows of us, that someone knows of us."
"Just drop it, Athena. Just stop. I need to go."
With that, he turned around and left.
Behind him, Athena stood half-undressed, her hands balled into fists, the chill of the evening finally settling into her skin.
A single tear fell down her cheek, and she wiped it with her hand.
Kaelos has never rejected her before, and now he did — for one person. Someone he didn't even love.
"Elara, this isn't the last of this." She said to herself.
Walking into the deep cloak of the garden.
______
Back in their chambers…
Elara sat near the mirror, her long hair loose down her back, brushing a thin layer of perfumed oil onto her neck. She had changed into a soft nightgown of moon-colored silk, her bare shoulders glowing in the candlelight.
When the door opened, she didn't turn around—but she saw him in the mirror.
Kaelos stepped in, closing the door behind him with quiet finality. His cloak still clung to his shoulders, and his jaw was tense.
"You came," she said softly, meeting his eyes in the reflection.
"You didn't give me much of a choice," he muttered.
She gave a short laugh, dry and knowing. "Kaelos, you always have a choice." She stood up.
He didn't answer. He only watched her—watched the way she stood tall despite the distance between them, the grace in her movements, the cold fire in her voice.
"You didn't lie with her, did you?" she asked after a moment.
He hesitated. "No."
"Good." She turned around to face him fully. "Because I meant it when I said I wouldn't be made a fool of."
His gaze dropped for the first time, to the floor, to the hem of her gown, to anything but her eyes. "I wasn't going to stay. With her, I mean."
"But you went either way."
His shoulders stiffened.
Elara stepped closer—not close enough to touch, but enough to make him feel the heat of her. "I don't care if you hate me, Kaelos. I don't even care if you love someone else. But if we are to endure this marriage in front of others, you will not disgrace me."
"I never planned to." He said, raising a brow.
"Very well," she whispered. "Sleep here tonight. Start there."
Kaelos slowly removed his cloak, his boots, and his belt. Not a word spoken.
When he finally lay beside her, they both stared up at the ceiling, the space between them still tense, but no longer cold.
It wasn't peace. But it was something.