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The way Kaera speaks of the boy is tender, even after so many years. Elara does not know much about true love, let alone affection toward another person, though she once prayed that she might experience something like it. After witnessing the soft gaze her father held for her mother, she had always imagined that something capable of creating such warmth must be beautiful.
“Do you know something about Cael writing poems?” Elara asks.
Kaera’s eyebrows raise, then she smiles. “Yes, but I did not pay much attention to it, considering writing has been my biggest failure. I almost wished to become illiterate.” She cracks a smile. “Though even in his poems, he writes about the girl with brown hair and green eyes. I truly think he has a specific type.” She glances at Elara with a smile laced with a tease.
Elara lowers her eyes toward her hands, suddenly conscious of the floral pattern spread across her own dress. Her thumb brushes over one of the embroidered flowers, tracing its shape without thinking. “Are you not curious who it may be?”
With a release of breath, Kaera’s tone turns serious, yet still gentle. “I do not know much about Cael, with every bit of honesty in my heart. We may have a close bond, but he is secretive, as if I would judge him. I try my very best to get near to him, but he does not reply. All he gives me is an expression of hesitancy and leaves.”
“He did the same with me. It made me want to know more about him, so I started learning sign language with the guidance of Mister Elias.”
Kaera’s sad expression melts as she looks at Elara with excitement once again. “Are you interested in him?”
“Perhaps, though it is mainly because he is a confusing man,” Elara smiles, only to chuckle as Kaera squeals with delight.
“That is perfect. I have seen how Cael looks at you.”
Elara’s forces her smile to remain. “Except that he loves this one girl who may look identical to me.”
Kaera shakes her head. “Nonsense. Cael would never glance at another woman while married. At least, I am confident in how loyal he is. He defended me against Mother and has always been protective of me. Whenever I accidentally broke one of our glass or crystal decorations, Cael saw how terrified I was. He always claimed that it was him.” She pauses. “He never wanted to be a prince, knowing he would always be judged. He accepted the role because he made a solemn promise to Father, and he has carried that responsibility ever since.”
Elara looks toward the balcony doors. Somewhere beyond those walls, the kingdom is still recovering from what happened yesterday, but inside Kaera’s bedchamber, the paintings and scattered papers make the palace feel distant.
For several seconds, neither princess speaks.
Then the latch snaps. Queen Maereth barges into the bedchamber, her regal garments sweeping behind her. Her immaculate posture is taut, her chest rising and falling with an anger that dominates the space. Her thin lips draw into a hard line as her gaze fixes upon Elara, stilling on the pink and white floral dress she wears.
“Out,” Queen Maereth commands, her voice low, carrying a finality that echoes off the ceiling angels. She does not look at her daughter. Her frozen glare remains pinned to Elara, her fingers tightening into claws against the fine silk of her sleeves. “Kaera, leave us. I must address the woman who brought this lethal curse upon my household.”
Kaera stands up from the mattress instantly, her hands trembling as she steps between them, trying her best to preserve her composure. “Mother, please, Father is still recovering—”
“Do not test my patience, child,” the Queen snaps, her tone cutting through the space like a blade as she takes another step closer, forcing her shadow over the bed. “The King lies in his chambers gasping for his life because we allowed a Veyrenn viper past our gates. The outer districts are burning, our border guards are bleeding on the stone, and I will not have you coddling the very distraction Zahraan used to lure my husband onto an open platform.”
She points a commanding finger toward the door, her voice rising to a rumbly authority. “Leave. Now.”
“It is my bedchamber,” Kaera does not back down. “You have insulted Elara many times when it is not under her control being in this palace. She has not done anything!”
“Your father is severely ill because of her defense toward that fool Cael. His life is on the line, and this princess and Cael’s attachment worsens everything.”
“And how about you, Mother?” Kaera’s arms fold over her chest. “All you do is argue with him, causing unnecessary destruction. He is your husband, though you treat him unfairly.”
“Unfairly?” Queen Maereth almost spits the word out. “You spend your time in this bedchamber, avoiding your role, and paint one ridiculous, helpless little boy, enslaved for our joy. Your standards are even lower than your worthless brother’s.” She pauses for a mere second before continuing. “That clown will leave your life. If he does not, he will leave this world. By my hands.”
Elara’s chest tightens. She wants to stand, to say something, to defend Kaera the way no one ever defended her. Instead, she remains where she is, trapped between shock and helplessness.
“He is not at fault. No one is except you,” Kaera shouts. Queen Maereth raises her hand, her fingers curling into a weapon, but her gaze flickers toward the slightly ajar door. Realizing any passing guard might witness the strike, the Queen freezes, her arm remaining poised in the air.
Elara brings her hands over Kaera’s, gently guiding her away. “What have I ever done to you?” The same fury she felt toward King Eric returns, her eyes wide with frustration and fear.
“Live,” Queen Maereth states coldly. “I never liked you from the second I read your name. Your pathetic, kind mother and your reasonable father. You are bringing this kingdom down, introducing a glimmer of hope into a palace that requires only duties.”
“Royalty must be beyond duties. A family requires support and love,” Elara tries to convince her, her voice breaking.
“What do you know about family?” Queen Maereth sneers. “You lived locked away like a caged bird. The whispers of your father neglecting you are common knowledge. You lived under oppression, and now you become spoiled under these laws of freedom. You are a distraction to my son, making him lazy and soft when he must focus on his command. You are useless to this court, a lazy burden attempting to speak back to your mother-in-law.”
Elara flinches, her frame trembling under the weight of the words. “I am not a distraction, and I am not useless. I want to help this kingdom. My mother taught me the value of peace.”
“Your mother?” Queen Maereth tilts her head, her eyes wide with challenge. “She was innocent enough to agree to this marriage, knowing you would suffer in this palace. She signed you away to secure her own peace.”
