Third Person's POV
The dining hall glowed in the warmth of candlelight, the golden sconces along the marble walls flickering like captured fireflies. Silver platters of roasted fowl, spiced fruits, and wine from Solara's famed vineyards filled the table, their rich aromas blending with the sweet perfume of marigold incense.
Empress Rhenessa Daelora sat across from King Caelen, her posture regal yet unhurried — a woman at ease in any court, even one that glimmered like the sun itself. Her forest-green hair was loosely braided over one shoulder, and her deep violet eyes reflected the candlelight with a quiet, calculating calm.
Caelen, though outwardly composed, seemed restless. He had always been good at charming foreign dignitaries, but tonight, his smile faltered between sips of wine. He was aware of the rumors that trailed him — aware, too, that Rhenessa had likely heard them.
"You keep a beautiful court, Your Majesty," Rhenessa began, her tone polite, almost casual. "Solara's radiance is truly unmatched."
Caelen inclined his head, forcing a small smile. "You flatter us, Your Grace. It's a humble kingdom compared to Noctyra's grandeur."
Her lips curved slightly. "Oh, I wouldn't call Solara humble. It burns brighter than any I've seen. But tell me—" she lifted her goblet, eyes never leaving his "—how fares your Queen?"
He froze for a fraction of a second before recovering. "She's… resting. The recent celebrations have taken a toll on her health."
"Ah." Rhenessa's tone softened, though her gaze remained sharp. "I saw her at the ball. She carried herself with grace — despite her exhaustion."
Caelen set his cup down, studying her warily. "You noticed."
"How could I not?" Rhenessa tilted her head, her smile just shy of knowing. "A woman doesn't hide pain so well unless she's had practice."
The air between them tightened. Caelen shifted in his seat, his earlier confidence slowly eroding under her gaze.
"I assure you," he said at last, his voice clipped, "Queen Talia is well cared for."
"I'm sure she is." Rhenessa took a delicate sip of wine, her tone unreadable. "Still, I wonder… when the sun begins to dim, does the king not seek to bring it back to full light? Or has he found comfort in the shade instead?"
Caelen's jaw tensed. "Your Grace speaks boldly."
"I always do," she replied smoothly, setting down her cup. "Noctyra is not a realm that thrives on silence."
For a moment, only the soft crackle of candles filled the space.
Then, Rhenessa smiled faintly — not unkindly — and leaned back in her chair. "Forgive my curiosity, Your Majesty. You see, I have an eye for what others overlook… and I cannot help but notice when something precious is being left to fade."
Caelen said nothing. He only looked down into his glass, the weight of her words pressing against the fragile shell of his pride.
The corridors of Solara's palace glowed softly in the late hours, their gilded sconces throwing honey-colored light along the marble floors. Servants had long since retired for the night, leaving the halls silent except for the gentle hum of distant waves crashing against the cliffs below.
Rhenessa walked alone, her cloak trailing behind her, the cool air of the palace brushing her skin like a whisper. The supper had left a faint taste of sweetness and tension on her tongue — the kind that lingered long after the wine was gone.
King Caelen had been easy enough to read. His charm was deliberate, his words chosen with care, but his eyes betrayed him. They carried the look of a man grasping at control while something precious slipped through his fingers.
She had seen that look before — in nobles who feared losing power, in lovers who'd already betrayed themselves.
Pausing near a tall window overlooking the palace gardens, Rhenessa let her gaze drift toward the faint shimmer of lanterns far below. Somewhere beyond that light, she knew, the Queen's private garden stretched toward the cliff's edge — quiet, walled in by flowering vines.
She wondered if Talia Do Sol sat there tonight, unable to sleep, her thoughts heavy as the moonlight spilling over her kingdom.
Rhenessa exhaled slowly, pressing a hand to the cool marble of the window frame. She had come to Solara for diplomacy — to strengthen trade routes, to prevent the brewing war between their borders — not to be distracted by its fragile, sunlit queen.
And yet…
Talia's image lingered in her mind. The soft gold of her gown, the firelight dancing in her pink hair, the calm defiance in her smile. There was something about her — not just beauty, but sorrow wrapped in grace.
It stirred something deep in Rhenessa's chest, something dangerous.
"She shines even as she breaks," she murmured to herself.
The Empress of Noctyra was not one easily swayed by beauty. But this… this was different.
Perhaps it was pity. Or perhaps, for the first time in a long while, it was curiosity.
Straightening, Rhenessa turned from the window and began the walk back to her guest chambers. Her boots echoed softly in the stillness.
As she passed through the golden corridor, she thought of Caelen's words, his clipped tone when he spoke of his queen, and the unease that lingered behind his smile.
There was more to this kingdom of sunlight than met the eye.
And if Talia truly was the heart of Solara… then Rhenessa could already feel the faint pull of its light — calling to her like a promise she hadn't meant to hear.