Page 15
On reaching the wide staircase, she descends, her hand brushing against the cool silver of the railing. The stairs open into a curved landing designed to overlook the space below, offering a clear view of the palace interior. Below her, the palace is alive. Knights, guards, chefs, and servants move through the lower levels in a practiced harmony, their voices overlapping in easy conversation. Laughter rings across the open space, mingling invitingly with the sweet scent of fresh pastries and roasted meats. Elara tilts her head as she takes in the sound, noting how vastly different this warmth is from the cold silence she has always been accustomed to.
Her gaze drifts across the chamber, following a portly man who carries a tray of precariously balanced water pitchers. Her stomach tightens. Cael strides into view, his dark attire blending seamlessly with the palace decor. Elara watches as he lifts his hands, moving them in a series of rapid motions to communicate with a guard. He stops in the middle of the hall, the light from a massive chandelier highlighting his dark hair, leaving him as the solitary still figure in a frenzy of movement. As if sensing her presence, Cael looks up, his eyes connecting with hers where she stands fixed upon the balcony.
Elara flushes and steps back, tripping over the train of her gown. The moment lasts less than a breath. Looking down, Cael continues forward and disappears into one of the adjoining chambers. Elara remains still, her hand tightening at her side as she stares at the exact space where he stood only a moment before. With a shake of her head, she turns and descends the stairs into the hall below, following the prince into what she hopes is the dining hall.
So intent is she in her mission to follow him, she veers straight into the path of a tall man with brown skin.
“Oh, I apologize, Your Highness!” A tall man steps back, his smooth russet skin catching the light. His long dark hair is tied neatly, and his presence carries a youthful vigor despite his years. Straightening his round wire glasses, he surveys her through piercing hazel eyes. “I did not see you. Are you all right?”
A careful study of his features precedes her reply. “I am sorry. Yes, I am all right.”
“You appear uncertain, Your Highness,” he observes. “If you are lost, I would be glad to assist you.”
Elara blinks at his astute observation, surprised by the ease with which he reads her state of mind.
Before she can respond, the man eases into a broad smile. “My name is Elias Winston. I am the librarian here, stationed on the top floor.”
“Good morning to you,” Elara returns with a small, tentative smile. With a slight hesitation, she asks, “Is breakfast happening?”
He nods, pointing toward the door where she had seen Cael enter earlier. “That is the dining hall for the royals.”
Elara inclines her head. “Thank you.”
“Anytime, Your Highness,” he replies, bowing.
Elara smiles. Such a small interaction, but it loosens the knot in her stomach she has been able to shake since the day of her wedding. The journey down the corridor brings her to the dining chamber. Turning the silver knob reveals a space that commands immediate admiration. Though there are only a few family members present, the hall is cavernous. A fireplace warms one end, with a small glass table nearby, flanked by black and silver couches with smooth upholstery. Large portraits adorn the walls, showcasing the royal family throughout the generations. Elara steps closer to the only likenesses she recognizes, her hands clasped in front of her. To the left, King Raelith and the queen are captured in dignified formality, stern and cold, presenting the very image of power. Next to them, Cael and the princess are immortalized in elegance.
Elara’s eyes linger on the portrait of the prince. The artist captured him perfectly, replicating the swirling storm in his deep gray eyes, the rigid way he carries himself, and even the slight tilt of his eyebrow that gives him the appearance of someone not to be crossed. She cannot help the faint admiration that rises within her chest before shaking herself from the thought.
“Good morning, Elara,” King Raelith greets, his smile bright as he gestures toward the table. “Please, take your seat next to Cael.”
“Good morning, Your Majesty,” Elara begins, catching herself before finishing. She steps forward and slides into the empty chair beside Cael. “I mean... Father.” The title tastes bitter upon her tongue, a word she has only ever associated with cold indifference and cruelty. She stumbles over the correction, aware of Cael’s gaze burning into her side as she settles into her seat.
He waves a hand dismissively, his smile easy. “I hope you had a good rest. Last night’s journey was long. Please, do eat. If you need anything else, ask the chefs. They will assist you with whatever you wish.”
Elara allows herself a small smile, her shoulders relaxing. “Thank you.” She rises once more, scooping freshly cut fruit into the small bowl beside her utensils. She returns to her seat and begins to eat. The fruit is sweeter than any she has tasted back at the castle. When she finishes, her appetite is not yet sated.
King Raelith speaks to Cael in a softer tone. “Son,” Raelith says, his tone soft, “I have lightened your duties for today. Perhaps Elara can join you.” He offers her a smile she looks up just in time to catch. “I am sure she would like to see more of her new kingdom.”
Elara chokes on a piece of fruit at the suggestion. Her new kingdom.
Elara studies Cael through her watering eyes, searching his features for any sign of his true thoughts. He does not narrow his eyes in suspicion, nor does he look relieved to have his responsibilities lightened. The prince remains entirely quiet, and his absolute silence makes her wonder if he is as constrained by this arrangement as she is, equally unhappy. He might already find her insufferable, too uncertain, or maybe even useless, which is exactly what her father considers her to be.
Now he will likely take her out to explore her new kingdom. Alone with him. Surrounded by complete unfamiliarity. With no comforting presence, and no one she truly knows.
A guard enters the chamber, jarring Elara from her thoughts. Ignoring the rest of the royal family altogether, he strides across the chamber to his king and, bending down, whispers something Elara cannot catch.
“Duty calls for me elsewhere. I must depart,” King Raelith says, dabbing the corners of his lips neatly with his napkin before rising from his chair. “Enjoy your meal, family.”
The queen rises immediately afterward, setting down her utensils with a sharp clink. Her movements are rigid, carrying the same cold composure she wore ever since Elara first entered the dining hall. She does not offer her a glance or a single word as she sweeps out of the chamber.
Kaera remains seated, her eyes studying Elara. Elara returns her gaze, though discomforted under such scrutiny. Undeniably, Kaera seems to be a decent soul, a rare comfort alongside King Raelith. She turns toward Cael, seated beside her. Unlike the others, he seems untouched by the stillness that has settled over the chamber. He continues eating in silence.
Elara forces herself to pick at the food upon her plate, knowing she must maintain her strength despite the heavy knot in her stomach. For years, meals had been a matter of survival under her father’s scrutiny, and now, surrounded by strangers in an unfamiliar kingdom, the act of eating feels no different. She swallows a small bite simply to satisfy her physical need, keeping her defensive guard firmly in place as she waits for the breakfast to conclude.
She lowers her gaze toward the plate before her and lifts another piece of roasted salmon with her utensils. The moment it touches her tongue, she nearly hums in satisfaction.
The rich seasoning melts warmly across her mouth, balanced by the faint smokiness left from roasting. The texture is delicate, softer than most meals she remembers receiving within the castle walls. It is proper food, bearing no resemblance to the lifeless portions she forced herself to survive upon within her homeland. In Veyrenn, the combination of the long drought and her father’s taxing neglect left even the royal kitchen sparse, rendering every meal dry and tasteless. Under the constant weight of her father’s scrutiny, eating had always felt like chewing dust.
