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The reminder of the green booklet she gave Cael and the silver quill pokes underneath his weight in his pocket. Something he has been carrying all along in case of need during the evening. He needs to tell the truth to Elara in the simplest way possible after what she endured and what probable things he told.
Opening the booklet to the very first page, he starts to write. His muscles weaken as he writes further, before showing it to Elara.
He is a man who used to work in this palace beside me. A year after, he left due to a misunderstanding.
Her eyes squint, her vision remaining blurry. “A misunderstanding? Was it a heated encounter?” She hesitates. “He looked at you like you were his enemy.”
Cael takes her words in and inclines his head, knowing there is no need to deny Amir’s evident hatred.
“He told me you were hiding darkness behind your silence. Yet, you shielded me tonight when no one else was looking.”
Her words hang between them, the chamber feeling rather small around Cael as his chesty tightens.
“You-” Elara swallows. “You granted me kindness behind doors, gave me your coat willingly and knew I would need it. You wrote on your own skin even though ink can harm you. You disobeyed my kingdom’s law in a dining hall back in my castle, with everyone witnessing it.”
She breathes out, trembling. “I do not think a malicious man would do any of that to give a stranger a voice.”
Her fingers twist into the soft fabric of the velvet blanket, her gaze dropping to the dark space between them. She rubs the side of her thumb against her palm, a habit that betrays the fluttering rhythm of her pulse. “Amir wanted me to see an enemy when I look at you. He wanted me to believe your silence is a cage for something terrible.”
She pauses, taking a shallow breath that hitches in her throat before her green eyes lift, locking onto his with an unshielded, desperate sincerity. “But my father spoke in thunderous tones every day of my life, and his words only ever brought me ruin. Your silence... it is the only place I have ever felt entirely safe.”
Cael stalls, his hand freezing over the open page of the forest-green booklet. The crushing restriction inside his chest gives way to a profound warmth, her words dismantling the poisonous doubts Amir had spent the evening planting. He looks at her flushed face, noting the slight tremor in her lower lip and the way her shoulders rise and fall with her uneven breathing.
Lifting his right hand, his bare, injured fingers move to caress the side of her face. His thumb brushes along her cheekbone. He turns his attention back to the paper, dipping the silver quill into the dark ink pool. His hand remains steady as he carves a single, elegant line across the pristine page before tilting the book to let her read the fresh script.
My silence has always been a shield for those I protect. From this night forward, it belongs entirely to you.
Elara reads the message, a soft exhale slipping past her lips as the remaining tension drains from her frame. She moves closer, letting her head sink back onto the steady heat of his shoulder. Cael closes the booklet, setting the green volume and the silver quill on the bedside table before wrapping his uninjured arm securely around her waist. They remain locked in the embrace as the low embers of the hearth fade into total darkness, sealing their true alliance long before the first light of dawn breaks over the fractured kingdom.
XXII
THE GROWING RUMORS
E
Elara sits by her seat in the Council chamber.
Across from her sits Cael. Beside her is Kaera, while King Raelith and Queen Maereth occupy the larger chairs at the head of the long table. They had been called in earlier this morning for a brief discussion following the heated encounter with Omar last night. Despite the exhaustion and anxiety coiled in everyone’s expression, they force their focus onto the King’s words.
The core anxiety does not center on Omar. It fastens instead to King Raelith, to the striking paleness of his face, the decline of his shoulders, and the exhaustion mapping his features.
Clearing his throat, the monarch finally speaks. “I refuse to launch any military movement or take action against Omar Zahraani. I want to do absolutely nothing. I believe that starting a fight with a peace we worked many years to build for the sake of Riverath will only bring ruin.” A pause follows before he continues. “We will always remain bigger. The better in our minds and our hearts.”
That is all. He does not say or indicate any more. Cael’s posture remains tense, his eyes fixed on his father, his expression unreadable. With the King retreating to his chambers to rest, Elara, Cael, and Kaera rise from their chairs in unison and exit. No words are exchanged, and nothing is discussed.
Kaera turns and makes her way toward the women’s side of the palace to resume her duties, leaving Elara behind. Left alone in the freezing, hollow corridor, Elara wanders down the central hallway, her mind spinning with restlessness over the King’s passivity. Seeking a pocket of fresh air to clear her head, she pushes open a wooden side door and steps out onto the stone terrace stairs.
The sudden transition from the dim, suffocating halls into the bright winter courtyard forces her to blink against the blinding glare of the morning sun. Her steps halt on the top landing, a sharp gasp catching in her throat as her eyes adjust to the light.
Of all the things she expected to see within the palace grounds, the Prince of Riverath seated upon the stone steps, gently stroking a stray cat, had never crossed her mind.
The creature’s fur is black, its hazel eyes half closed beneath the morning sun, its tail curled neatly around its paws. Cael’s hand moves along its back with care, reflecting the exact tenderness he offered her the night before.
One of the guards stands nearby, his posture rigid, his gaze fixed straight ahead as though guarding something beyond the palace grounds. After a moment, he inclines his head toward the prince. “Your Highness,” he says, never taking his eyes from the path ahead, “I would advise against touching cats with black fur. They are believed to carry ill fortune.” A pause follows before he adds more quietly, “Some say worse.”
Cael lifts his gaze toward him. The guard straightens, shoulders pulling back in silent correction before falling quiet once more. Returning his attention to the cat without hesitation, Cael watches the animal press into his palm with total trust, leaning into the gentle rub of his thumb behind its ear.
A laugh threatens to escape Elara, though she restrains it behind a smile. The same prince who sits through political negotiations with unreadable composure now rests upon cold stone, absorbed in comforting a stray cat. She watches him a moment longer, realizing the sight does not surprise her nearly as much as it should.
