Colden stepped into the room, the heavy door clicking shut behind him. The air was thick with a scent that hit him instantly—the dry, floral fragrance of old parchment and lavender. It was the scent of Viremont. It clung to the drapes, the bedsheets, and the very walls, as if the ghost of the Lady still walked here.
On the side table, nestled against the bed frame, lay a letter, the wax seal broken but the paper still crisp. Colden's eyes lingered on it for a moment, recognizing the stationery, but his attention was swiftly diverted.
Elaine popped up from the bedside where she had been sitting.
Colden stopped dead in his tracks. "Elaine?"
She looked... different. Drastically different. Her long, flowing red hair, once her crown of glory, was gone. Cut short, it framed her face in sharp, jagged edges, a severe style that ended just below her ears. She looked strikingly like Viremont. The resemblance was uncanny—a mirror image of the Lioness in her youth. She looked harder, sharper, as if she had carved away the softness to reveal the stone underneath.
"Why are you here?" she asked, her voice steady, though her eyes were wide.
Arthur, who had been hovering behind Colden, stepped into the doorway. His eyes went wide.
"Elle, what the—" Arthur stammered, his hand flying to his mouth. "When did you do this?"
Before Elaine could answer, the dam inside Colden broke. The stress of the coronation, the fight with Marco, the pressure of the crown, and now seeing Elaine—his rock—transformed into the image of the woman they had just lost, it was too much.
He rushed forward, bridging the gap between them in two strides, and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a tight embrace.
"ELAINE!" he shouted, burying his face in her shoulder.
*Excellent idea to keep it low profile, you idiot,* Colden scolded himself internally, but he couldn't stop. He was sobbing, his shoulders shaking.
Elaine stood frozen for a second, shocked by the sudden contact. Then, slowly, her hands came up and patted his back. She felt a swell of emotion in her own chest—gladness, mixed with the heavy sadness of seeing him so broken. Arthur, watching from the doorway, saw her expression soften. For the first time in so many days, she looked happy.
"I... I missed you," Colden choked out against her shoulder. "And did you know... I am now King? So you should also keep it a little down." He pulled back, wiping his eyes, trying to force a laugh. "And did you know about Marco? God, he is upset. I messed up, Elaine. I messed up everything."
Elaine let her own tears fall, silent tracks down her cheeks. "Oh, is that right?" she whispered, her voice thick. "I missed you all too."
Colden pulled away, rubbing his sleeve aggressively over his face to dry his tears. He looked at her, really looked at her. "Well... how are you?"
Elaine looked to the side, her gaze drifting to the grey sky outside the window. She didn't look directly at him. "Well," she said, her tone carefully neutral. "It's been okay."
Suddenly, the door burst open behind Arthur. Gladis—the second concubine's daughter—barreled into the room. Arthur tried to catch her, but she slipped past him with surprising speed.
"Elaine, are you okay?" Gladis asked, her voice dripping with false concern.
Elaine turned, her face instantly snapping back to alertness. The vulnerability of a moment ago vanished, replaced by ice.
"Get lost," Elaine said.
Gladis stopped. She looked at Elaine, then at Colden, who was standing close to the bed. She saw the King's red eyes, the intimacy of the scene. A flash of jealousy crossed her face.
"The bitch even has a King on her lap," Gladis muttered as she turned and stormed out of the room.
She marched straight to her own chambers. Inside, the shadows shifted. The Second Concubine, Lady Tisdale, stepped out from the darkness of the corner.
"Mom," Gladis hissed. "What do we do? The King of Windmere is here."
Lady Tisdale smiled, a cold, calculated expression that didn't reach her eyes. "We let the King leave. He is a distraction, but he is also powerful. We wait. And then... we will make our move."
"Oh yes," Gladis nodded, her eyes gleaming. "Right."
Back in Elaine's room, the tension settled again. Colden sat down on the edge of the bed, exhausted. He looked at Elaine with hopeful eyes.
"Elaine," he said softly. "Would you like to come back? To Windmere? We can figure this out together."
Elaine shook her head, the short hair swaying with the motion. "No," she said firmly. "I still have some things to do here. Promises I have to keep."
Colden nodded, though the disappointment was evident. He leaned forward. "You know it wasn't your or Marco's fault, right? What happened to Viremont. What happened with the crowd."
"Can we talk about something else?" Elaine cut him off sharply, her voice rising slightly. She took a breath. "What about your coronation? How did that go?"
Colden sighed, slumping his shoulders. "Nice. Well, it's not like the people had any choices. I bet if they had... they wouldn't have chosen me."
Elaine looked at him, her gaze piercing. "Colden," she said seriously. "You were a King and remained one because the people wanted it. You gave them hope when they had none. So you shouldn't think that."
Colden managed a weak smile. "Well, I guess you are right. I just came here because I wanted to meet you... and I had some business in Velloria."
He paused, glancing back at Arthur who was still guarding the door.
"Talking of business," Colden said. "Francis told me to say 'hi' to Arthur for him. Do you two know each other?"
Arthur, who had been standing stoically, suddenly stiffened. A bright red flush crept up his neck and covered his cheeks. He looked away, coughing into his fist.
Colden looked between Arthur and Elaine, confused. "Wait... do you?"
To be continued.