A gentle, weak light filled the royal chambers, as if sunlight feared to trespass.
Elora lay on the big bed, her pale skin tinged now with a blossom of warmth. The soft murmur of maids directing their motions filled her ears. She sat up a little, her body still weak, but the fog of the poison was finally lifting.
Her eyes had wandered to the other side of the room, where a pool of seawater now glistened in the morning light. It hadn't been there before.
The maids had spoken to her about how difficult it had been to build such a beautiful rocky pool filled with healing seawater to aid in her recovery.
And all of it was at the request of Azazeal.
Her heart twisted.
She had heard chilling rumors of how he had punished those involved in the poisoning, how he had callously wiped out everyone who had been in the kitchen that day.
Guilt clawed at her.
Some of them must have surely been innocent. She would have pleaded for mercy on their behalf, but she had not fully woken from the pain of the poison until a week ago.
Her hand pressed to her chest, her mind was heavy.
Why? Why would he go to these extremes for her? Wasn't his heart supposed to belong to another woman, why were his actions fiercely protective in a way she was unable to accommodate?
Azazeal stood outside the chambers, watching the maids move to and fro. His silvery eyes were calm, and his stoic face gave nothing away, but his tightly clenched fists told a different story.
He had always been a man of action. Words meant little to him. Yet, when it came to Elora, his actions felt lacking. No matter how many times he fought to be with her, no amount of luxuries he provided Elora, could bring her to accommodate him.
Even during her recovery, she kept him at arm's length, and her indifference to his efforts was a blade that cut deeper than any sword.
Drawing a steadying breath, he stepped inside. The maids bowed low before withdrawing, leaving him alone with his queen.
Elora gazed up at him, surprised. She gripped the blanket tightly, as if she were protecting herself.
"You're awake," he said, his voice gentle and quiet if he didn't want to startle her.
"Yes," she nodded her voice cracking a little.
He stepped to the edge of the seawater pool, his stride precise. "Do you like it?"
She glanced out at the pool. "I… It's beautiful."
"Good." His eyes locked onto hers, piercing and unreadable. "You're to use it daily. It will help your recovery."
She hesitated. "The maids said… it took a lot of hard work to build and get the water brought to Crimson Sky ."
Azazeal cocked his head a little. "I'd do anything for you, does that trouble you?"
She shook her head, but gripped the blanket tighter.
"I just … don't want to be a burden."
He was at her side in a second; kneeling in front of her. His large hands enveloped hers and she felt warmth seep into her ice-cold skin.
"You are my wife," he said insistently. "Your well-being is my duty."
That's true, it's nothing special, he's just fulfilling his duty as a husband. She thought, calming herself a bit
Her lips trembled, but she did not speak. Instead, she turned her back, her gaze away from him.
"What about the punished servants ?, she finally says what has been in her mind since she had heard about their ill fate .
Azazeal looked at her, a hint of a narrowing of his eyes. "Do you feel guilty for how I punished them?"
She paused, and her silence was the answer.
"I will not accept harm to what's mine," he stated with conviction.
"There is nothing to pity in those who failed to protect you."
Elora's grip on the blanket tightened. "Some of the maids were innocent," she said in a gentle voice.
" Innocence doesn't excuse their failure," he replied.
" You also took me to the healing sea despite how far the journey was and you built a tub so I can have the water at my convenience, you really didn't have to do all of that just because I'm your mate." She shrugged looking down at the silk beddings
Azazeal's hand touched her cheek, softly angling her face back to him.
Her gaze found his, and for a split second, she could have sworn she saw a flicker of something in his eyes — remorse, regret maybe, or understanding. But it was gone as soon as it came.
"Do you think I do all this because I'm forced to?"
Her eyes were as clear as glass, searching his, confusion and something else flickering in their depths.
" I … don't know why you do it."
His thumb slid across her cheek. "Then learn."
She opened her mouth to speak, but he stood and turned to leave.
At the door, he paused. "Rest. I'll ask the healer to visit you later."
And with that, he disappeared, leaving her heart heavier than it ever was.
The days after were spent recuperating, Kael didn't leave for his home but stayed in the castle throughout fawning over his sister-in-law.
Elora was coming out more and exploring the castle that had never fully been her home despite the two years she'd spent here.
She sometimes runs into Azazeal, but they don't ignore each other like they used to.
He takes time to ask how she was and if she wasn't feeling any pain or ache, he would always remind her to take things easy because she was still fragile but he wouldn't stop her from doing the things she wants.
A foggy memory from when she was sick came and she remembered how he promised to let her out more and allow her to try everything she wanted without holding back.
Not that he had stopped her before, she was the one who decided to lock herself away from everyone, and she couldn't help but think now that her stubbornness had been stupid.
Also these days, Casteel has been around her than usual, acting more like a personal guard than a Knight.
It was weird at first, but Elora would never say no to more training sessions and adventures outside the castle walls, she had more freedom to go out since Casteel was always around.
The winter festival was fast approaching, and Elora had been hearing tales of how massively it is celebrated here in the Crimson Sky Pack.
The excitement is starting to rub off on her and she sometimes wishes she could talk to Azazeal about helping with the preparations, but each time she sees him all her courage dwindles and she is reduced to a blushing mess.
So tonight, when an unexpected summons came from the king, she figured she would ask him about it.
Elora stood in the middle of the king's quarters, nerves thrumming within her. Her dainty hands played with the fabric of her sleeves, while her startled blue eyes scanned the huge expanse of his chambers. The shininess of the gold and black decor always seemed to dwarf her slight frame, causing her to feel misplaced.
Her maids had dressed her in a hurry, and she wore a soft lavender gown covered in complex silver embroidery.
They'd chattered incessantly about her beauty, but to Elora, their words had felt empty. She knew how she appeared — ethereal yet eerie.
Ever since the poison incident, some side effects couldn't be undone, like her now deathly pale skin and freezing body temperature.
Her crystal blue eyes and dark hair only made her seem more daunting.
The sound of boots on the floor brought her attention back. She sensed him before she was even able to see him; her breath caught in her throat as Azazeal's tall, imposing silhouette filled the doorway. He moved as silently as a predator and stopped mere inches in front of her.
"Your Highness," she said softly, eyes downcast.