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Cael’s hands begin to rise, only for Elara to interrupt.
She takes a step closer to him. “I want to be your voice, Cael. Let me stand beside you.”
Cael’s lips part, hands attempting to lift to sign a word. Nothing follows. A knock at the door interrupts them. Elara steps away from Cael as Annie enters the chamber, a smile blooming across her face.
“Good morning, Your Highnesses,” she says, bowing to them both before turning to Elara. “I see that your puffy eyes and the redness across your face have faded, Your Highness.”
Before Elara can form her words, Cael gives Annie a short incline of his head before stepping across the quarters to exit, leaving her behind. Her eyes remain fixed on the closed door in disbelief at how he left her, unable to comprehend that he did not acknowledge her words. Cael being tense, indifferent, and distant aches her broken heart.
The weight of everything that has happened presses against her again. Her mother’s secrets, Maereth’s cruelty, and the uncertainty of what waits beyond these walls.
Annie turns her head, offering Elara a weak chuckle. “I am sure His Highness is only distressed.”
Elara swallows before turning to the dressing area to finish her routine. Annie helps by granting her the warm water she desperately needs, helping her dry and dress in one of her large gowns.
Annie helps Elara with the golden crystal pendants on her ears and extends her hand to reach for the heart pendant necklace. Elara watches her reach for it, and her mouth speaks before her mind can. “I prefer not to wear it today,” she says, taking the ornament and placing it inside her jewelry casket.
“Oh,” Annie pulls her hand away, her eyebrows raised, but she does not press for an answer. Lastly, she places the crown atop her head, absolute silence surrounding them.
By the time they are done, Elara stands by the mattress, leaving the gray coat on the bed, and reaches for the pink garment instead. She slides her arms through the sleeves, convincing herself that it is because the fabric is thicker, but her fingers linger over the hem for a moment.
Annie continues to watch Elara from the side, smoothing the linen towels before she walks toward the exit. Her steps pause near the threshold, her head turning back to face Elara. “Your Highness?”
Elara looks up from the bed, her hands folding the pink coat neatly over her frame and her thick gown to secure the warmth. “Yes?”
“I know it is not my place to invade your personal feelings, but I hope you are doing well. That whatever is affecting you will ease,” Annie says. “I am here for you.”
Elara averts her gaze, her eyes tracking the dark patterns of the stone floorboards as her throat tightens. The overwhelming sting of Cael’s sudden departure and the crushing weight of her mother’s secrets lock her voice into a fragile constraint.
“I am fine,” she whispers, refusing to look up, her chin dropping toward the collar of her pink coat. “You may leave.”
Annie bows at once and exits. Elara sinks against the bed. Her trembling hands grasp her skirt, fingers splaying across the glimmering fabric. Her lips part, her voice aching to be heard. Even if it is the hollow air. “I cannot cry.”
Her blurring eyes lift toward the jewelry casket, but another memory rises before she can stop it. Elara’s fingers tighten around the pink wool, the warmth beneath her palms reminding her of a comfort she has not allowed herself to remember in years.
“Why are you weeping, my dear?” Aline asks, having just returned from her duties. For a moment, she stands by the threshold of Elara’s sleeping quarters before she enters and closes the door behind her. She steps forward and lowers herself onto her knees, her arms wrapping around Elara’s frame.
Elara buries her face into her mother’s neck, unable to speak from the heavy sobs interrupting her attempts to bring her words out.
Aline does not press further for an explanation. Instead, she sways back and forth in a slow rhythm, her fingers stroking through Elara’s dark hair. “There is no need for you to speak,” she whispers, pressing her lips against Elara’s temple. “Your mother will set aside every single one of her royal duties, if it ensures you are no longer sad.”
“Nobody likes me, Mother,” Elara cries, her hands rubbing the tears streaming down her cheeks. “I have no friends.”
“Oh, my dear,” Aline tightens her embrace around Elara, holding her closer against her chest. “I love you. I love you very much, and you are my friend. The best one I hold.”
“No, I am not.” Elara shakes her head, her breath hitching.
Aline’s fingers pause their stroking before she gently moves her head back to ensure Elara’s eyes meet hers. A soft smile graces her lips. “How about this? Do you recall the princess and the knight story, which you disliked?”
Elara sniffles, her voice trembling. “Yes.”
“The princess, Grace, she spent her entire life locked within her castle because her parents were cruel.” Her mother’s voice softens into a gentle cadence. “They appeared kind and righteous for the public eye, but they were horrible beasts behind locked doors, treating their daughter as a mere transaction for power. For many years, the knight could not gather the courage to protect her, leaving the princess to weep alone in the dark of her bedchamber.”
“But the story does not end in her defeat, Elara. Within that cage, the princess carried a hidden, unyielding courage that no beast could strip away. When the castle fell into darkness and the knight himself was wounded and silenced, unable to speak or defend the gates, it was not the knight who saved the princess. It was Princess Grace who stepped forward into the hall. She chose to stand right beside him, shielding his broken frame and using her own voice to command the kingdom when he could not.”
Aline smiles, her fingers brushing a stray strand of hair behind Elara’s ear. “True courage does not mean you are never frightened, my dear. It means that when someone you love is facing a storm, you find the strength to step beyond your sanctuary and stand beside them.”
The memory dissolves into the present. Elara blinks, the pale morning light of Riverath returning to focus as her fingers tighten around the gray wool of Cael’s coat.
