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Cael’s eyes widen with surprise at King Eric’s attempt to humiliate his daughter once again by commanding her to serve him. Subservience is something Cael never intends to demand from this marriage.

Elara stands, her chair scraping against the floor before she carefully lifts the bottle of wine. Using both hands, she pours the vintage into Cael’s cup. A few drops spill onto the cloth draped over the wooden table. Her eyes fixate on the small droplets escaping the rim, her focus wavering. Before the liquid can overflow, Cael brings his hand over hers to stabilize the bottle, stopping her from adding any more.

Her breath hitches at the sudden contact, and Cael believes he is lucky to wear gloves for this occasion to hide his rough palms. Elara’s wide eyes look into his, confused. Quickly removing his hand, he takes the bottle and returns it to its place on the table. He gives her a reassuring smile and nod of appreciation.

His fingers curl into fists under the table as he leans back in his chair. The humiliation King Eric is putting on his daughter is far too familiar to him, mirroring the exact torment he has experienced with his stepmother for years. He recognizes the fights, the tactics meant to force public submission, and the calculated efforts to make him appear weak to his people.

Kaera’s warm hand squeezing his beneath the table forces him to relax, drawing him back from the rising anger.

Queen Maereth adjusts her seating on her seat, and Kaera smiles at Cael at his kindness, though it fills with more amusement. He avoids his step-mother’s annoyance, and return Kaera’s smile with an eyebrow raise, indicating her to not express her amusement yet.

“Well, look how quiet the young couple is,” King Eric says with a hint of mockery, sipping his cup of wine. It is his third cup. “Maybe this marriage will teach both of them how to… use their tongues to communicate,” his voice dips lower, eyes only piercing into Cael’s.

Cael returns her eye contact without hesitation before shifting his focus back to observing the chamber. The absolute absence of a Queen to support Elara through this ordeal becomes impossible to ignore.

Looking across the dining hall, he follows Elara’s gaze to a single servant woman, whose bare face and modest lace gown stand out starkly against the lavish uniforms of the palace guards. The discomfort radiating from the household staff reveals the true weight of King Eric's rigid commands, proving that every soul within these walls is merely an ornament for his superficial display.

Cael realizes that beneath the gold and the feasting, the entire event is a hollow veneer designed to mask a broken kingdom.

The dinner continues in this manner, the voices of the two kings remaining the solitary sound to fill the grand hall. Cael watches as Elara ignores the feast before her, choosing instead to pick at her nails while a heavy silence wraps around her. Sensing her distress, Kaera rises from her seat, cuts a piece of dessert, and slides the untouched plate across the table to Elara.

Elara’s eyes widen at the sudden kindness, her cheeks warming. After a brief hesitation, a smile surfaces upon her lips as she accepts the offering. Staring down at the dessert as though it were a rare comfort, she takes her first bite of the evening, as if this reassurance has given her permission to be herself. Watching her from across the space, Cael feels the remaining tension leave his shoulders. Her smile reveals small dimples by the edge of her cheeks, almost unnoticeable to a casual observer, and her flush deepens to the soft shade of a blooming poppy.

The dinner draws to a close and the servants clear away the dessert plates. King Eric and King Raelith rise from their chairs, heading into the study to sign the official treaty and taking the guards with them. Queen Maereth rises and leaves to find her husband, taking the tension with her. Only Cael, Kaera, and Elara remain.

Across the table, Elara shifts in her chair and turns her forest-green eyes toward Cael, her lips parting as though she is attempting to finally speak. Her dessert is finished, giving the impression that she has needed to eat for the entire day.

“Elara, right?” Kaera asks with a smile, starting the conversation with her easy personality and soft confidence. For most of Cael’s life, it is Kaera who speaks for him during any situation or heavy silence. Though Cael worries Kaera might be invasive due to how talkative she gets, curiosity clearly overcomes the best of his sister. Elara nods, her eyes meeting Kaera’s before shifting toward Cael, and then just as quickly dropping down to her empty plate.

“I am Kaera. Cael’s younger sister.” She smiles kindly.

Elara’s lips part and finally a voice escapes her throat. “I expected you to be younger,” she says, tilting her head.

Cael observes the exchange, leaning back against the chair.

Kaera’s expression shifts into a look of sincerity as she prepares to dissolve the superficial pretense between them. “I attained my eighteenth winter some time ago. Though I am often told I carry myself with far more urgency than my years require.”

“I have turned twenty at the first frost of this very winter,” Elara responds, her gaze lingering on Kaera before drifting back toward her plate. “A mere three moons past.” Then, she turns to Cael.

Cael’s lips part with a desperate need to reply. He does not wish to appear rude, but no one has informed her of his silence.

From the beginning, he trusts King Raelith to explain the truth with grace, but he is wrong. He knows he can lift his hands to sign his silent language, but he knows Elara will not understand his gestures.

Elara’s smile fades. The openness of her expression is replaced by something cautious and guarded. Cael accepts her defensive retreat, pushing back his heavy oak chair and rising to his feet. He leaves the dining hall to find King Raelith, unable to bear the misunderstanding any longer.

What remains behind him is a suffocating, broken tension.

VII

A BINDING EVENING

E

The heavy doors of the throne chamber swing open.

The vast chamber rises grandly before them, defined by towering walls of pristine white stone, sweeping beige draperies, and brilliant gold accents that catch the light from the massive chandeliers. Elara moves slowly into the space, guided gently by Walker, who walks beside yet a step behind her for support.

As King Eric and King Raelith return to take their positions beneath the royal canopy, the throne chamber grows colder. Cael crosses the floor with measured steps, returning to his position directly beside Elara as the finality of the evening closes in.