After the first night of them being intimate in Kael's chamber,the first night when he was vulnerable to her, the first night that was one of the only nights that was special to her, more than any other night. But now the chamber became silent.
Elara didn't speak.
Kael didn't touch her.
The room was colder than her own, despite the fire. The bed was larger, but emptier. The walls were lined with swords and maps, not books and flowers.
She sat at the edge of the mattress, her hands folded in her lap.
Kael stood by the window, arms crossed.
"I've made a schedule," he said.
Elara looked up.
"We'll try for an heir three nights a week," he continued. "Mondays, Thursdays, and Saturdays. I've cleared the evenings."
Elara's voice was quiet. "And the Civic Council?"
"You may continue," Kael said. "It doesn't concern me."
Elara nodded.
Kael didn't look at her.
She didn't cry.
She didn't speak.
She simply lay down.
And waited for morning.
---
Two Months Later
The Civic Council was thriving.
Elara met with merchants, scholars, and commoners twice a week. They discussed trade routes, education reform, and sanitation in the lower city. Lucien was always beside her—steady, thoughtful, loyal.
Kael was often away.
Royal inspections. Border negotiations. Military reviews.
He returned late.
He left early.
Their schedule remained untouched.
Three nights a week.
No words.
No warmth.
Just duty.
---
Elara sat in the council chamber, listening to a young woman speak about school funding in the outer provinces. Lucien leaned beside her, taking notes, nodding.
She glanced at him.
He smiled.
And for a moment, she forgot the cold bed. The schedule. The silence.
She remembered the ink.
She remembered the page.
She remembered writing Lucien as the quiet brother. The one who loved deeply but never confessed. The one who stood beside Lyria in the shadows.
She had written him to love her.
And now he did.
But this part—this closeness, this warmth—she hadn't written.
It had written itself.
And she hadn't told a soul.
Not Kael.
Not Lucien.
Not anyone.
She was Elara Quinn.
The girl who wrote the story.
The girl who changed her fate.
The girl who was supposed to be dead.
---
It began in the kitchens.
A maid overheard a merchant say that the queen and Prince Lucien had been seen walking alone in the gardens. That they laughed. That they touched.
It spread to the guards.
Then to the nobles.
Then to the court.
By the end of the week, it was everywhere.
The queen and the prince.
An affair.
A betrayal.
A scandal.
Elara heard it from Valeria.
Lucien heard it from a council member.
Kael didn't hear it at all.
Because he was away.
---
The former king summoned Kael the moment the rumor reached him.
Kael arrived at the old war room, his cloak still dusted with snow from the northern border.
His father didn't greet him.
He simply tossed a scroll onto the table.
Kael picked it up.
Read it.
Paused.
Then said, "It's a lie."
The former king didn't respond.
Kael repeated, "It's a lie."
"I know," the king said.
Kael frowned. "Then why summon me?"
The king stepped forward. "Because lies don't matter. Perception does."
Kael's jaw tightened.
The king continued. "Your wife is too close to your brother. Your brother is in love with her. And you are absent."
Kael's voice was low. "I trust Lucien."
"Trust is weakness," the king snapped. "Control is strength."
Kael looked away.
The king's voice dropped. "You will return. You will remind her who she belongs to. And you will remind Lucien who you are."
Kael didn't speak.
The former king leaned in. "Or I will."
---
Elara was in the council chamber when Kael returned.
She didn't expect him.
He didn't announce himself.
He simply walked in.
The room fell silent.
Lucien stood.
Kael's eyes met his.
Then turned to Elara.
"Council is dismissed," he said.
No one moved.
Kael's voice sharpened. "Now."
They left.
Lucien lingered.
Kael didn't speak.
Lucien bowed.
And walked out.
Elara remained seated.
Kael stepped forward.
"You've been busy," he said.
"I've been working."
"With Lucien."
Elara's voice was calm. "He's part of the council."
Kael's eyes burned. "He's part of the rumor."
Elara stood. "You don't believe it."
"No," Kael said. "But I believe he loves you."
Elara didn't respond.
Kael stepped closer. "And I believe you let him."
Her voice cracked. "I didn't."
Kael's voice dropped. "Then prove it."
Elara stared at him.
"I moved into your chamber," she said. "I followed your schedule. I gave up my privacy. My peace. My hope."
Kael's voice was cold. "You gave me nothing."
Elara's breath caught.
Kael leaned in. "You are queen. You are wife. You are mine."
Elara stepped back.
Kael didn't follow.
He turned.
And walked away.
---
That night, Elara wrote:
> He came back.
> Not with love.
> But with fury.
> He doesn't believe the rumor.
> But he believes the danger.
> He believes Lucien loves me.
> And he's right.
> I wrote him that way.
> But I didn't write this part.
> This pain.
> This silence.
> This cage.
> I changed my fate.
> But I didn't change his.
> Kael is still the king his father made.
> And I am still the girl who thought she could rewrite love.
She closed the journal.
Outside, the palace whispered.
Inside, the queen wept.
---