It had been some time since Queen Alaina left Elara alone near the marble wall.
The chill of the night clung to her skin like damp silk, but Elara didn't move.
She stood there long after the Queen's footsteps had faded, staring into the thick curtain of fog that had settled beyond the palace gardens.
The night was too dark to see clearly, but she imagined the edge of the Aldovian forest somewhere in the distance—its silhouette swallowed by the mist.
Somewhere beyond that, far beyond what the eye could reach, stood her homeland.
Alderidge.
Her chest tightened.
It was a strange thing to miss a place that was no longer hers. Yet it lingered in her memory like a half-forgotten lullaby - the silver waters of Lake Vessryn, the hum of fireflies in the summer air, the scent of mountain lavender drifting in through the windows of her childhood room.
Her parents, Queen Vashti and King Orion, had known what it meant to send her here.
To bind her to a kingdom not her own.
To a crown that did not yet sit comfortably on her head.
That was why they hadn't even come to her wedding.
They couldn't bear to look her in the eye and call it a celebration.
Elara drew in a sharp breath and turned from the stone wall. Her slippers clicked softly against the cold marble floor as she made her way back into the palace.
The corridors were still and shadowed, bathed in the pale blue of moonlight spilling through tall arched windows.
Then came a sound.
A door creaked somewhere behind her. Quiet, but not imagined.
She paused.
"Who's there?" she called, her voice low and cautious.
But there was nothing but silence.
She turned, eyes scanning the hallway. Nothing. No one.
Just the silence of stone walls and sleeping servants.
She shook her head. "It's nothing," she murmured to herself, but even she didn't quite believe it.
She resumed her pace, faster now, her hand brushing the silk of her gown as if to steady herself.
Then—another creak.
This time, when she turned, she caught the briefest glimpse of a figure—a woman, she thought—slipping down one of the corridors ahead, cloak trailing behind her before vanishing around the corner.
Elara stilled. Her heart knocked once, hard, in her chest.
But this was the palace. People moved about. Servants on errands. Nobles are unable to sleep. That's all it was.
Still, she kept her gaze fixed a moment longer… just in case.
Then she turned and nearly screamed.
"Gods!" she gasped, pressing a hand to her chest.
Princess Serya stood directly in front of her, a soft, amused smile tugging at her lips.
Her blonde hair cascaded in waves down her shoulders and to her waist, gleaming like pale gold under the torchlight. She looked young—very young, but carried herself with a poised elegance and a graceful, knowing smile.
"My apologies, Princess. Did I frighten you?" she asked, still smiling.
"Of course you did, Serya. What are you doing here all alone at this hour?"
"I like taking night walks. They help clear my head from all the dance practices and the endless parade of suitors flooding my day," she said with a dramatic bow of her head.
"Suitors? Are you to be married?" Elara asked, intrigued.
"Very soon. I'm finally of age, and Mother wouldn't waste a second before shipping me off."
Elara looked at her, their soft gazes meeting across the dim corridor.
"I deal with them every day—princes, dukes, noblemen. But none of them seem to be what I want." She pouted.
"I am certain, Serya, that your mother would not give you to someone you do not truly want."
Serya didn't respond at once. Her eyes lingered on Elara, and for a brief moment, silence wove itself between them like a hush in the air.
Then she exhaled slowly and smiled again. "Shall I escort you to your chambers?" she offered gently.
"And who would escort you?" Elara asked, raising a brow.
Serya stepped closer, voice dropping to a whisper. "If you look back long enough, you'll notice two guards standing on the right wing."
Elara turned her head and, sure enough, caught the faint shapes of two men stationed just beyond the shadows.
"Mother sends them to watch me when I take my walks," Serya giggled. "What she doesn't know is that I am aware."
Elara chuckled under her breath. "Very well then."
The two women began their quiet walk through the halls of the palace, the torches on the stands casting long, flickering shadows across the stone walls. Their footsteps echoed softly between the columns.
"You know, I never got to thank you," Elara said after a moment.
"What for?" Serya asked, half-skipping beside her.
"For saving me during the dance… when Kaelos walked away."
"Oh, you need not thank me. I was only helping out a sister."
Elara smiled softly, but her expression tightened just a bit at the corners.
"I didn't expect such humiliation. Kaelos is such a—"
"Bastard," Serya finished without missing a beat.
Elara blinked, then laughed. "I was going to say 'prat,' but that works too."
A silence lingered before Serya spoke again.
"You know I didn't mean to pry," Serya said after a pause, her voice gentler now, "and I still don't. But… I overheard Mother speaking to you both."
Elara's steps slowed. The hallway suddenly felt colder.
"Is that so?" she murmured. "Then you must know I'm not exactly walking on roses with your brother."
Serya hesitated, but then quietly replied, "Kaelos doesn't despise you. He's just… conflicted."
Elara gave a dry laugh. "Kaelos is now wed. He doesn't have the luxury of being conflicted."
"If it means anything," Serya said with a playful smile, "you're much prettier than Athena."
Elara stopped walking.
"This… Athena," she said slowly, "what can you tell me about her?"
Serya's eyes lit up, like someone who had waited far too long to spill a secret.
"She's the daughter of a wiseman, though you wouldn't guess it from her manners. She lives just beyond the palace grounds, in the outer quarters. A few of the court ladies befriended her, and that's how she drew close to Kaelos. They've been seeing each other in secret for years. They thought no one knew—but our parents knew. I knew. And now… You know."
Elara's brows knitted. "And no one stopped it?"
"It wasn't exactly scandalous," Serya said with a shrug. "Everyone knew Kaelos couldn't marry her, but—well—he thought he could. Whatever fantasy he lived in has now come to an end."
Elara didn't respond. Her silence was louder than any words.
When they reached the door to Elara's chambers, both women slowed.
Serya turned to her. "Kaelos might be proud and angry right now, but I promise you… He will come around."
Elara gave a small smile. "And I shall take your word for it."
"Very well then. Good night, Princess."
"Good night, Serya. And thank you… for the walk."
"It was my pleasure." Serya bowed lightly before turning away and disappearing into the shadows of the corridor.
Elara opened her chamber doors, expecting emptiness. But someone was already waiting inside.
"Good evening, my lady," Hallel said with a soft curtsy.
Elara blinked in surprise. "Good evening, Hallel. I thought you would've retired by now."
"I couldn't. I wanted to be sure everything was prepared for you."
"You didn't have to." Elara stepped inside.
"It is my duty. Please, sit."
Elara smiled sheepishly and moved to the chair by the mirror. She sat as Hallel began gently removing the pins from her hair.
"The ladies-in-waiting back in Alderidge were never half as kind as you," Elara murmured.
"There's no need to flatter me, Your Grace. This is what I was hired to do."
Elara met her eyes in the mirror as the final pin slid free. Then, slowly, Hallel lifted the crown from her head.
"Ahh, that is such a relief," Elara sighed.
They looked at each other through the reflection, then burst into sudden, genuine laughter.
"I suppose it must be heavy," Hallel said, smiling. "Wearing this all day."
"I dread the day I am Queen. I am certain the next crown will weigh more than my head."
Another laugh bubbled between them.
Elara leaned back in the chair, thoughtful now. "Sometimes I wonder what it's like… just to be free. To live without all this pressure—without duty or title?"
Hallel paused, her fingers still for a moment in Elara's hair. "It's a blessed feeling, my lady. Not always easy, but free, yes."
Elara turned her head slightly. "Perhaps I should visit the village someday."
"You should," Hallel said brightly. "You'd love it. There's music in the square every fifth day. Real laughter—not the polite kind." Then she paused. "And I hear the apple tarts are to die for."
Elara smiled, but her mind flickered elsewhere. The village. That was where Serya said Athena lived. Would it be foolish to go? Perhaps even see her?
As her thoughts wandered, Hallel stepped back. "Your bath is ready, my lady."
"Thank you, Hallel," Elara said softly, then added, "You should retire for the night. I can manage the rest."
"Are you sure?"
"I'm sure."
Hallel gave a brief nod, her face unreadable. "Very well. Sleep well, Princess."
When she had gone, Elara slipped into her bath and then into her nightgown, the silence of the chamber wrapping itself around her like a second skin. She was just brushing out the last strands of damp hair when a quiet knock came at the door.
A servant entered, his head bowed.
"A message, Your Grace. From the Prince."
She took it without a word. The seal was simple—no wax, just a folded note.
"Forgive me. I won't be returning to the chambers tonight. I need time — Kaelos."
She read it once. Then again. Then, with steady fingers, she crumpled the paper and dropped it into the hearth.
She said nothing. She made no sound. She simply climbed into bed, drew the sheets to her chest, and let the quiet swallow her whole.
_______
The morning sunlight filtered in through gauzy curtains, dappling Elara's face in gold. She blinked against the warmth, stirring slowly beneath the sheets. The room was quiet and still.
A soft fragrance of rosewater lingered in the air, and when she sat up, she noticed a neat arrangement of gowns laid across the divan, each one pressed and folded with care. On top of the pile rested a folded note in an unfamiliar handwriting.
"Forgive my absence, Your Grace. I'll be in the kitchen this morning and may not return until after midday. I hope one of these will suit your liking today.
—Hallel"
Elara smiled faintly to herself, folding the note and setting it aside.
She chose a modest gold gown—simple in design, but elegant in its tailoring. It hugged her figure gently, the fabric flowing like poured sunlight when she moved. No crown, no jewels. Just her.
She stepped outside, drawn toward the palace gardens, where the scent of early blooms drifted in the air and dew still clung to the grass.
Children's laughter echoed softly, and as she rounded a hedge-lined path, she saw them—four small figures gathered beneath a tree, looking up with furrowed brows and determined pouts. One of them jumped and missed. Another waved a stick that barely reached halfway.
Elara tilted her head, smiling. "Why do your faces look so sour?"
The children startled slightly, then turned to her with wide eyes. One girl stepped forward. "We're trying to get that flower." She said.
Elara followed her gaze to a bright, lilac bloom near the top of the tree. "That one?" she asked.
They all nodded.
"We wanted to add it to our collection," a boy added, "but none of us is tall enough."
Elara chuckled softly. "Well, lucky for you, I'm taller than all of you."
"You are!" the smallest girl exclaimed, eyes lighting up.
Elara stepped forward, reached up with ease, and plucked the flower from its branch. She crouched and handed it to the children, who received it like it were treasure.
"Thank you, my lady!" they cried, then giggling, they took off running down the path.
Elara stood again, brushing her hands lightly on her dress. That's when she felt it—peering eyes.
She glanced around and noticed a few women seated near the rose pavilion, fans fluttering, lips close in murmured conversation. Their eyes flicked toward her and then away. One of them whispered behind a gloved hand, and another gave a barely disguised scoff.
Elara turned to walk on, ignoring them.
But just as she passed the edge of the garden hedge, a sharp whisper reached her ears.
"I heard her husband doesn't even sleep in their chambers." One of them said.
Elara's step faltered.
She turned, slow and deliberate, locking eyes with the woman who had spoken.
Silence fell among the group as Elara approached.
"Ladies," she said. "Isn't it a wonderful morning? I'd hate to believe you've chosen to make it about me."
They looked at each other. One of them rose slowly from her seat, the sunlight catching the sapphire pendant at her throat.
"I'm sorry, Your Grace. It wasn't meant to reach your ears," she said, wearing a wry smile.
"And who are you to speak on it at all?" Elara asked.
The lady dipped in a graceful bow, then lifted her chin with elegance.
"My name is Athena. And it is so lovely to finally meet you, Princess Elara."