The morning after Dorian's exile, the palace felt different.
Not quieter.
Not safer.
Just… different.
The tension hadn't vanished—it had simply shifted. Like a storm that had passed but left the air heavy, waiting.
Elara sat in the council chamber, the sunlight slanting across the marble floor. The seat beside her—once Dorian's—remained empty. No one dared fill it. Not yet, originally in her books, Dorian was still going to be exiled,but that was because of he was later found out for being the one who killed Lyria ,but now that he was exiled for something completely different, she didn't know how to feel about all this . Yes she was happy but she knows Dorian very well, and his not one to give up that early, That's just how she wrote him.
And for sure he would be back.
Lucien entered first, followed by the remaining council members. Their expressions were cautious, reverent. They bowed—not just to the crown, but to her.
She didn't smile.
She didn't nod.
She simply said, "Let's begin."
---
Kael watched from the gallery above.
He hadn't spoken to Elara since the garden.
Hadn't touched her.
But he was watching.
Always watching.
She was different now. Sharper. Stiller. Like steel cooled in fire.
And he knew—this was the woman he had married.
Not the princess from Vales.
Not the character from a book.
But the queen of Thorne.
His queen.
---
The council meeting was brief.
Efficient.
Elara reinstated the Civic Council under a new name: The Sovereign Assembly.
She appointed Lucien as its steward.
She drafted a charter—one Kael had signed without hesitation.
And when the final seal was pressed, she stood.
"This kingdom will not be ruled by fear," she said. "Not by blood. Not by silence. But by truth."
The room was silent.
Then Lucien bowed.
And the others followed.
---
That night, Elara returned to their chamber alone.
She didn't expect Kael.
She didn't wait for him.
But when she turned from the mirror, he was there.
In the doorway.
Watching her.
"I signed it," he said.
Elara nodded. "I know."
Kael stepped closer. "I meant what I said. In the throne room."
Elara's voice was quiet. "Then say it again."
Kael's eyes didn't waver. "I stand with my queen."
Elara's breath caught.
She stepped forward.
Kael met her halfway.
Their hands touched.
Their foreheads met.
And for the first time, there was no hunger.
No desperation.
Just quiet.
Just truth.
Just them.
---
Outside, the moon hung low.
The kingdom slept.
But in the shadows of the palace, a figure moved.
A servant.
Young.
Loyal.
Quiet.
He carried a scroll.
Sealed in silver.
Marked with a symbol Elara hadn't seen in years.
The symbol of Vale.
The scroll was placed on her desk.
And when she read it the next morning, her hands trembled.
Because it wasn't a threat.
It was a blessing.
A message from her parents.
A vow of support.
A promise: "We stand with our daughter. We stand with our queen."
---
The next day
The bells rang at dawn.
Not for death.
Not for war.
But for peace.
Elara stood at the edge of the palace balcony, the scroll from Vale still clutched in her hand. The silver seal shimmered in the morning light, its message echoing in her mind:
> "We stand with our daughter. We stand with our queen."
It was the first time in weeks she had felt something close to relief.
But relief was fragile.
And it didn't last.
---
The garden was blooming.
Silver roses—her mother's favorite—had been planted overnight in the royal courtyard. A gift from Vale. A symbol of unity. Of loyalty.
Elara walked among them in silence, her fingers brushing petals that felt too soft to be real.
Kael found her there.
He didn't speak.
Not at first.
Then, quietly, "They've accepted you."
Elara nodded. "They never rejected me."
Kael's voice was low. "I did."
She turned.
Their eyes met.
And for a moment, the garden held its breath.
---
That afternoon, the Sovereign Assembly convened.
Lucien stood at the head of the table, flanked by council members both old and new. The silver charter gleamed beneath his hand.
Elara entered last.
The room rose.
She didn't bow.
She didn't smile.
She simply said, "Let's begin."
---
The first order of business was security.
The archives had burned.
The servant had died.
Dorian was gone—but his shadow lingered.
Lucien cleared his throat. "We've increased patrols. Reassigned guards. But there's unrest in the outer provinces. Whispers of rebellion."
Elara's eyes narrowed. "From whom?"
Lucien hesitated. "From those loyal to Seraphina."
The room fell silent.
Elara didn't blink.
"Then we remind them who rules now."
---
---
Later that day, in the palace halls, a letter was delivered.
Not to Elara.
Not to Kael.
To Lucien.
Unsigned.
Unsealed.
Inside: a list of names.
Council members.
Nobles.
Guards.
And at the bottom, one line:
> "Loyalty is a crown easily stolen."
Lucien folded the letter.
And said nothing.