Page 54

Amir stumbles backward as the pressure releases, wrenching his arm out of the restriction, and retreats into the shadows of the stone corridor, vanishing before the guards turn their heads.

Elara parts her lips as she prepares to speak, but the words die in her throat. A sudden tumult shatters the corridor as Omar and his knights march down the stairs in rage. Their faces contort with rage following King Raelith’s refusal of aid, the entire foreign delegation retreating under the escort of the palace guard. Cael turns his head toward the disruption.

The heavy echo of boots and the clatter of armored vanguards follow closely behind the retreating foreign unit. King Raelith steps out onto the landing, his breathing shallow and ragged, though his expression remains firm as he watches the Zahraani forces descend. Kaera stands rigidly by his shoulder, her palm wrapped tightly in a white cloth from the table, her dark eyes still burning with anger.

Queen Maereth stops near the top of the stairs, her sharp features contorted with disapproval as she looks over the courtyard. “A complete disgrace,” she says quietly. “We host a dinner to secure our borders, and it ends with a cracked glass, a weak princess abandoning her role, and a foreign leader storming out of our gates.”

Cael pays no mind to his stepmother’s stinging words, ignoring the chaos unfolding on the stairs above them. His focus remains fixed on Elara as the foreign delegation retreats past their position. Stepping deeper into her space, he reaches up to adjust the wool collar of his coat around her neck, securing the dark fabric against her skin to block out the biting cold of the drafty corridor.

He does not sign any explanation. Rather, he reaches down with his bare left hand, his swollen fingers and raw cuts exposed beneath the light of the lanterns. He takes her hand gently in his palm, his thumb rubbing over the exact spot on her knuckles where the stranger just pressed his lips, helping her erase the burning discomfort and the lies the knight left behind.

Elara tenses beneath his touch. Realizing her hesitation, Cael begins to withdraw his hand, but she takes a deliberate step closer to him, anchoring her frame against his chest like she needs this.

“I did not want that,” Elara shakes her head, her voice cracking with a wave of guilt and panic that convinces Cael of her true intentions. “I did not want him to touch me. To kiss me. It burns, Cael.”

Cael wraps his arm around her upper torso, guiding her away from the fountain and back inside the fortress. He ignores the disastrous events that have fractured the evening, steering her through the dark corridors to the bedchamber. He sits Elara down on the edge of the bed, the frantic chattering from the courtyard below growing muffled through the closed crystal doors.

Her breathing remains shallow and heavy, her fingers rubbing against her knuckles with desperation. Her body shakes, causing Cael’s eyes to widen as the realization strikes him. She is panicking. Her skin grows pink from the rising distress, and Cael takes her hand back into his palm. Never once has he witnessed her like this, and the sight breaks something deep within his chest.

“He kissed me,” Elara whispers, her voice breaking against the quiet of the chamber.

Cael sits directly beside her and wraps his arms around her shoulders, leaning her against his broad frame for support. She sits still in an uncomfortable position for as long as possible, fighting her own boundaries, before she finally surrenders into his embrace and rests her head against his arm.

His breathing stops, his heart racing rapidly at their sudden closeness. Elara only leans closer into his warmth, her fingers gripping the velvet of his doublet for stability. The heavy black fabric of her dress tugs against her as her legs attempt to fold on the bed, her body curling inward to find escape from the lingering fright. Cael releases his held breath and carefully brings his bare, injured hand down to slip her shoes off.

With her feet freed from the constraints of her shoes, Elara draws her knees closer toward her chest, her fingers relaxing against his silk shirt as her breathing slowly finds its regular rhythm. Cael maintains his hold on her, offering a solid anchor until the last traces of her trembling fade.

Her hand slides down to meet his bare left palm. Her fingertips hesitantly trace the raw cuts and swollen skin he had exposed to protect her by the fountain, her gaze lingering on the injuries before she looks up to meet his eyes.

Cael shifts back against the headboard, guiding her with him so she can rest more comfortably against his frame. He adjusts the heavy coat over her shoulders, smoothing the wool to shield her from the drafts drifting past the crystal doors.

Elara leans her head against his chest, her hands coming to rest flat within his own. They remain in the silent embrace as the muffled noise from the gardens dies away.

Elara moves, sliding her palm into his hand until their fingers lace together. Cael’s hand tightens around hers in response, his thumb brushing against her skin. He halts for a fraction of a second, his posture freezing to evaluate whether his weight might cause her to pull away. When she remains against his side, tension releases from his shoulders. He raises his hand, his fingers moving to smooth loose, dark waves away from her face, his touch hovering with caution before settling against her cheek. Elara rests her face into his palm. Cael holds her there, his thumb anchoring against her jawline with a strength that reveals his desire to keep her to his side.

The warmth of the chamber increases as the fire burns down to low embers. Elara shifts her position on the mattress, uncurling her legs to stretch against the soft sheets. Cael adapts to her movements without a word, his arm remaining securely around her shoulders as he pulls the velvet blankets up to cover them both, locking them away from the cold palace corridors outside.

Her breathing slows, though it still trembles. Cael remains where he is, slowly adjusting his posture to keep this closeness between them as long as Elara needs.

The night was hectic and even Cael cannot forget it. The sight of Amir after many years, the first interaction they have had ever since they were young, and his former companion involving Elara in their old mess makes his insides burn.

They were the exact same age. Thirteen years old. Riverath and Zahraan had a massive dispute before signing a major peace pact regarding those southern border checkpoints. To guarantee that Leader Omar would not attack or break the treaty, King Raelith demanded a living pledge of peace. Omar had to send one of his high-ranking boys, Amir, to live inside the Riverath main palace as a Royal Ward. He was raised alongside Cael.

He was of noble blood, and King Raelith placed him in the exact same war academy, elite sparring matches, and strategy lessons as Cael. For years, they ate at the same stone tables, wore the same training tunics, and bled on the same training grounds.

King Raelith wanted to actively mold Amir. He knew that one day, Cael would inherit Riverath and Amir would become a powerful leader in Zahraan. Raelith’s goal was to show Amir the stability, strategy, and principles of Riverath so that when the boys grew up and took power, they would never go to war. He wanted to foster a brotherhood to secure a lifetime of peace for both kingdoms.

They became deeply familiar with each other, as Amir learned sign language for him and saw him as a true friend. But afraid of exposing his vulnerabilities or bringing anyone else into the crushing misery of his royal burdens, Cael had forced himself to endure his grueling morning labors alone, withdrawing into isolation. When the wardship contract expired as they reached adulthood, the official release papers were signed just as a fragile peace formed between Riverath and Zahraan. Despite having the diplomatic option to remain at court as an ally, Amir left immediately.

Cael’s caresses the wool of the coat shielding Elara’s arm. For many years, he has wished he could return to the past and apologize. Except Amir never gave him the time to do so, and the deep resentment the knight carries only drove the wedge further between them. But Cael cannot reconcile the image of his childhood companion who used to smile, shove food down his face, and wished to be a savior for his people, with the sneering, manipulative man who made Elara uncomfortable tonight.

The night grows deeper, and Elara’s eyes blink open. Cael has not slept, the churning feeling in his chest keeping him alert beside her in the dark.

“Cael?” she calls gently.

He looks down, bringing his hands to the sides of her arms as she sits up, offering the support and strength she is gradually regaining.

Looking down at her knuckle, her other hand caressing the skin. Elara speaks. “Amir… he spoke as though he knew you before you wore the crown.”