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After a moment of hesitation, Cael nods. Sitting across from her against the plush mattress, he waits for her to open the volume. Reaching the page Elara wishes to study, she turns the book to have it facing Cael. “This sentence and these guides, they are not precise on how I shall sign,” she points at the sentence where it says Past night, sky star glow, me look-up feel peace. It is a simpler manner of sign language that Cael had not insisted on learning when he was younger, having chosen the direct script instead.

He recalls how these sentences, basic to him now, led him to sit for hours when he was a child, his legs aching from sitting in the same uncomfortable position in the library beside Elias.

He does not wish to force Elara to learn the complex direct script he uses, so he will adjust. He straightens and points his finger at the first two words. Past night. Looking into her eyes, he raises his right hand back over his shoulder for past, then he crosses his arms to indicate a setting sun for night. He makes sure his movements are slow.

Elara only stares. Raising her arms, she copies him, though she messes up for night, since the detailed posture for it is confusing. He offers her a smile and repeats the movement again, deliberately pausing and slowing down further.

Finally, she copies him and gets it correctly, repeating it a few more times as her eyes study her own posture.

The realization that someone wants to learn an entire language out of genuine desire to understand his thoughts catch him by surprise. Unlike his family or the staff who learned out of necessity, she seeks his voice despite the forced marriage that bound their fates. Her request makes him want to step closer, to leave the formal rules of their marriage behind and learn every detail of her heart in return.

Amazing, he signs with a smile.

When Elara smiles, it is a kindness so natural that for a moment, he forgets the years of hesitancy of his own silent language. “Then there is sky star glow. It is confusing because some of the words get merged into one motion.”

Cael keeps smiling, and then raises his hand to trace the sky, pinching his fingers in a twinkling motion for stars. Then, he opens his hands wide for glowing.

She copies him, and continues to repeat it until she understands. Then, for me look-up, he first points to himself and then uses a V handshape to mimic his eyes looking up at the ceiling. Finally, for feel peace, he brings his hand to his chest for feel, then he flattens his hands to smooth them downward like calming waters for peace.

They practice for hours while the sky outside deepens into night. Elara repeats the sequence one more time, signing the entire sentence while her focus remains on her hands and posture. Her movement grows slow, her eyes drooping with exhaustion. At last, her head drops against his shoulder, falling asleep in place.

Cael closes the volume and places it on the small table beside the bed. He lays her down and ensures the blanket covers her frame. She removed her crown long ago, and her hair spills over the pillows, shining in the light of the candles.

He sits by her side, his gaze anchored onto her sleeping form. The dim firelight tracks across the stone of the quarters, casting a glow over the pink and white folds of her dress.

While studying the even rise and fall of her breathing, he notices the lines of despair from his stepmother’s confrontation finally softening on her face. The sight of her crown sitting forgotten on the far edge of the wooden bedframe leaves his frame tight with a strange, aching protective heat.

Cael reaches out, his fingers trembling while he grazes a stray strand of brown hair, tucking it away from her cheek. He leaves his hand resting against the white linen of her pillow. He knows the land past their gates remains locked under a severe perimeter, and he knows the vipers of the high council will continue to whisper venom about her presence, but she remains asleep under his care.

He longs to slip away to his sanctuary and pour the woes of the day into his journal, but he refuses to leave.

For her, he remains.

XXX

A SMALL ADMISSION

E

Elara’s attempts to forget Queen Maereth’s words fail.

Three days have passed since the confrontation, and the palace remains locked. Ahead from the stairs, the knights and guards prepare their shields and adjust their gear. The horses wait for their riders, some nudging for attention.

No laughter or smile is shared. The emptiness within her chest expands with every passing second, a heavy numbness making her breathing irregular and her throat tight under the strain. She lifts her hand, her fingers tightening around the golden pendant resting against her collarbone. The metal is freezing against her skin, a weight she is no longer comfortable wearing. She unclasps the necklace to hold it in her hand, but the motion relieves nothing. Her gaze drifts to the white flowers, and her breath shudders.

One of the female guards approaches, her skin a clear almond and her dark hair falling down her back. Her uniform is smooth and polished, tailored closely to her frame. “Your Highness, the breeze is growing colder. It is better for you to enter the palace and rest. I am sure you need it.”

Elara glances up at the guard, swallowing. She has not slept for the past few nights, even with Cael remaining by her side, caring for her whenever she does not require privacy. He teaches her his language until she becomes exhausted, despite remaining tense and his gaze drifting to the balcony by her bedchamber.

Her thoughts center on her mother. Every time she recalls Queen Aline’s apology and that childhood glimpse of the signed marriage parchment, she wants to cry, to scream with the full force of her lungs, yet she never does.

Elara is hesitant to ask about the truth, or even to have Cael or Kaera ask on her behalf. Kaera does nothing but apologize for Queen Maereth, which only deepens the ache, knowing how truly guilty the young princess feels, blaming herself for provoking her mother.

“I am all right,” Elara says to the guard, forcing a smile. “I wish to feel the breeze.”

The guard accepts the answer and lets out a soft chuckle. “Her Highness is the same. Always out here in the cold.”

“Kaera does it too?” Elara looks up.