The palace had been unusually calm these past few days.
Elara had not left the castle once. She remained within her floor of the keep , a refuge she had claimed years ago, guarded not by soldiers, but by silence. Only her inner maids were permitted beyond its threshold.
It had been her choice.
Ever since her father brought her mother's sister into the palace as his mistress, Elara had withdrawn. Solitude, though painful, felt safer than witnessing love unravel in corridors meant for vows.
But what unsettled her now was not memory.
It was absence.
Ser Kael no longer entered her chambers.
He still stood guard outside her doors. Still watched. Still protected. Yet he never crossed the threshold again.
She told herself it was because she no longer frightened him with her sleepless nights. Because she no longer stood at balconies with hollow eyes. Because she had finally regained control.
Strangely, she had not summoned him either.
"My lady."
Maera's voice cut through the silence.
Elara blinked. She had been staring at the same corner of the room for several minutes.
"Ah,sorry. What were you saying?"
"I hadn't begun speaking yet," Maera replied gently. "But your mind is wandering."
"It is nothing," Elara said quickly. "Only thoughts."
Maera studied her, unconvinced.
"Very well. But tell me this , how did you return with Ser Kael the other evening? I thought him your rival."
Elara groaned softly.
"I told him I intended to retire early and not to be disturbed. I ordered him to deny entry to anyone."
Maera's brows rose.
"When the door was closed, I slipped through the hidden passage."
"And?"
"When I emerged," Elara said slowly, "he was waiting."
Maera gasped. "Waiting?"
"He had studied the palace grounds before assuming his post. Every corridor. Every hidden stair. Every secret passage."
There was quiet admiration in her tone , though she did not recognize it.
"He did not answer all my questions," she continued. "But there is something about him that does not align."
She did not mention her uncle's involvement.
Some truths required timing.
Maera tilted her head, smirking.
"Suspiciously… handsome?"
Elara shot her a warning glare.
"Mind your tongue. You address the Crown Princess."
Maera pressed her lips together, barely containing laughter.
"I am serious," Elara insisted. "He is not attractive."
"Of course not, my lady."
Elara smoothed a stray lock of hair, avoiding her own reflection.
"Still," she murmured, "there is something about him."
Maera's teasing faded.
"Shall I investigate?"
Elara's eyes sharpened.
"Yes. I want everything. His past. His training. Who sent him. What he hides."
"That is quite an interest."
"I am interested in stability," Elara replied smoothly. "I will soon rule. I cannot afford unknown variables."
But even she did not fully believe herself.
Maera nodded.
"I will begin tonight."
A quiet exhale escaped Elara.
"These past days have been… different," she admitted.
Maera's voice softened. "You sleep now."
"Yes."
The sorrow that once clung to her ribs like chains had loosened.
She thought of Kael's words.
They are fortunate to have a princess such as yourself.
Heat stirred faintly in her chest.
"My lady?" Maera teased.
Elara rolled her eyes.
"For once, say nothing."
They both laughed.
Later, as Maera brushed her hair into a loose knot, Elara studied her reflection.
She did not look fragile.
She did not look haunted.
For the first time in years…
She looked awake.
"Goodnight, my lady."
"Goodnight."
The candles dimmed.
As Maera opened the door, she met Ser Kael's gaze.
No warmth passed between them.
Only awareness.
Assessment.
The door closed.
Elara lay awake in the dark.
Her hand rested lightly over her heart.
Something had shifted.
And for once,
She did not fear it.
The Royal CourtThe great hall of Eryndor stirred long before the session began.
Sunlight fractured through stained-glass windows, scattering crimson and gold across polished marble. Silk whispered. Rings clinked. Ambition moved quietly behind smiles.
At the far end rose the throne , carved from ancient stone veined in silver, crowned with the sigil of Eryndor: a serpent entwined around a sword.
The royal herald struck his staff.
"Silence for the court."
The sound echoed.
The King Regent entered.
Measured. Controlled. Unreadable.
He ascended the dais and seated himself deliberately, allowing the weight of the crown to settle before speaking.
"To order."
Petitions began.
Land disputes. Grain shortages. Border tensions.
Each addressed with calm authority.
Yet the court's attention wavered.
They waited.
Then,
"My lord."
Lord Vaelor stepped forward, silver beard unable to disguise the sharpness in his eyes.
"There is a matter long delayed."
The atmosphere tightened.
"Speak," the king said.
"The heir is of age," Vaelor continued. "The realm has waited patiently. But patience must yield to certainty."
Another lord joined him.
"The people ask what alliance will secure the future."
"A queen without a consort invites instability."
"A crown without alliance invites ambition."
The murmurs grew.
Marriage was not romance.
It was leverage.
The King Regent rose slowly.
Silence fell like a blade.
"The princess's future," he said evenly, "is not fodder for speculation."
"And yet," Vaelor replied carefully, "it concerns the realm."
The king's gaze swept across calculating faces.
He knew what they wanted.
A political match.
A powerful alliance.
A controllable queen.
"You will have your answer," he said at last.
"But it will come from me , not from pressure."
The message was clear.
Push further, and you challenge the throne itself.
Yet as he resumed his seat, his jaw tightened.
Because the court was right.
Time was narrowing.
And somewhere beyond those walls,
Forces were already shifting.