Chapter 4 :
The scent of fresh bread filled the warm little bakery cellar. Elara sat against a wooden beam, arms wrapped around her knees. Mira had given her a blanket, a cup of spiced tea, and a moment of silence — which Elara had used to listen to the storm brewing outside.
But the storms didn't frighten her.
She had lived through worse ones. Ones that came with thrones and horns and cruelty dressed in silk.
She closed her eyes.
And the memory swept in like a tide.
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Two years ago, in the throne room of Virelia…
The throne hall was filled with ministers, nobles, guards, and too many eyes.
Elara stood beside the towering obsidian throne, where the Demon King Kael sat on his long crimson cloak spilling down the steps, his silver crown sharp enough to draw blood. His eyes were twin voids, gold-rimmed and always watching.
And judging.
She held the scroll tightly in her gloved hands. Her voice was steady, though her palms were damp.
"and thus, the grain allocations for the Southern provinces will be diverted"
"That's enough," Kael interrupted, his voice echoing like thunder through the chamber.
Elara froze.
The entire hall held its breath.
Kael rose slowly from his throne, every movement calculated and dangerous. He descended the steps like a storm wrapped in black velvet, stopping just inches from her.
"You've signed the wrong decree," he said coldly, plucking the scroll from her fingers. "This was meant for the Northern provinces. The South had no shortages. The North has been starving."
Murmurs filled the air like flies.
Elara's stomach dropped.
"I... must.. have mixed the..."
Kael raised the scroll high. "A queen who cannot read a simple seal is a queen unfit for a crown."
A cold hush swept the court.
Humiliation burned in her chest. She dared not speak.
"You embarrass yourself," Kael continued, loud enough for every soul in the room to hear. "Next time, I'll have the court scribes read it aloud to you. Perhaps that way, your poor human mind will manage not to doom an entire province."
A few courtiers chuckled behind their hands.
Elara's eyes stung, but she did not let the tears fall. Not here. Never here.
Kael dropped the scroll at her feet as though it were filth.
"You may leave. I'm tired of incompetence."
She turned and walked from the throne room with measured grace, even though every step felt like walking barefoot over glass.
Back in the present…
Elara jolted upright as thunder cracked outside.
She was breathing fast, chest tight, fingers trembling.
Mira's voice drifted down the steps.
"Elara? Are you alright?"
Elara didn't respond immediately. She closed her eyes again and tried to wrest the memory away. It didn't work. They never truly left.
Mira descended the stairs, holding a candle.
She paused when she saw the look on Elara's face so pale, shaken, like someone who'd seen a ghost.
"Nightmare?" she asked gently.
"No," Elara said. "A memory."
Mira set the candle down and came to sit beside her.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
There was a long silence. Then, Elara whispered:
"He humiliated me. Publicly. Often. Over every small mistake. And no one ever stopped him."
Mira said nothing, only waited.
"They all said he hated me. That I was a weak queen. Unworthy of a demon king." Elara clenched her jaw. "Maybe they were right."
"No," Mira said firmly. "They weren't."
"You didn't see the way they looked at me. Like I was a mistake wrapped in silk. Like I was always less."
"I don't need to see it," Mira said. "Because I see you now. And you're not less."
Elara looked down at her hands. "He married me for political unity. A symbol. I thought maybe… maybe over time he'd come to respect me. But he only ever saw a human girl pretending to wear a crown too heavy for her." But I married him for love! I have loved him since I was sixteen when I first saw him, cool , calculated, charming and golden eyes. I loved him.
Mira hesitated. Then reached out and gently took Elara's hand.
"You're not pretending now," she said. "You're surviving. And that takes more strength than sitting on a throne ever did."
Elara didn't reply, but her fingers curled around Mira's hand.
And for the first time in a long time, she didn't feel alone in the dark.
___________________________________
Morning came quietly.
Elara stretched under the thick wool blanket and blinked against the light pouring in from the bakery windows. Mira had already been up for hours. The scent of cinnamon and honey wafted through the cellar, warming the stones. For the first time in weeks, Elara didn't wake with her pulse racing.
She dressed slowly, savoring the quiet. No maids to lace her into gowns. No steel-eyed guards watching every step.
Only the clatter of mixing bowls and the scrape of a spatula.
When she emerged, Mira handed her a bun, still warm from the oven. "You slept like someone who wasn't being hunted."
Elara smiled faintly. "Maybe I dreamed I was someone else."
The days passed gently. Elara helped where she could,washing, stirring, keeping the fire hot.
She read to the baker's daughter. Sang songs to the old woman with the forgetful eyes. Sat beside Mira at dusk, drinking tea, sharing silence.
But the past never truly let go.
One evening, she stood outside beneath the stars, holding a letter she had never mailed.
"To Kael," it began. "I loved you once. I thought you could be better. I thought I could love the cruelty out of you. I was wrong."
But I was....
Arghhh! She groaned.....
And fed the letter to the fire!
There was no point in writing him a letter !
And no point at all in explaining herself.
She had found peace and she wasn't going to jeopardize that.
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