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Elara’s fingers tighten around his hand.
You remind me of a petal because a petal is something one runs to protect without hesitation. It is delicate, but not fragile. Easy to admire, easy to hold, though impossible to forget. His smile only grows warmer.
Elara sniffs, annoyed that her nose remains congested at a time like this. “I never knew I was seen in such a manner,” she admits rather shyly. “All of my life, I believed that I am forgettable. Hideous because of my emotional state. I just wanted to disappear.” A pause cracks her voice. “I heard men mock my body, whispering that it is too delicate. They always said no man would ever want me.”
Cael’s eyes remain upon hers, carrying an emotion she cannot name. Elara almost wishes she had not spoken. She has grown accustomed to keeping those words buried so deeply that hearing them aloud makes them feel more real. Slowly, he slides off the steps and lowers himself onto his knee before her feet.
A gasp escapes from Elara’s mouth.
You are beautiful, he signs, his fingers cutting through the space. The growing wind gains strength around them, whistling across the stone courtyard while the chill drifts between them. Elara’s eyes begin to sting, shifting her gaze away and then back to his hands.
You are my sanctuary. Your green eyes are filled with colors that none of these flowers can bring to give me peace. It has been hard for me to hold back my words of affection toward you, but I wish for you to know that I adore you deeply. He pauses, the softness of his adoration deepening as he looks up into her face. Not a day goes by where I do not think of you, or focus entirely on making sure you are well.
His eyes start to fill with unshed tears, the grey color turning glassy beneath the morning light. Not a day goes by where I cannot help myself but feel angry with how people treat you, looking at you as if you are a mere pawn, and knowing the cruelty your father showed you. And I am not an angry man, petal.
“Why? What have I done for you to feel such a way toward me?” Elara asks again, still unable to handle all of this sudden affection and the weight of his words toward her.
Because when I look at you, I do not feel the need to be the prince everyone expects me to become, he signs as tears stream down his reddening cheek. I do not have to hide my hands, my silence, or the parts of me that people have spent years deciding were weaknesses. You look at me, and you do not search for what is missing.
Elara’s chest tightens as each word reaches her. Cael lowers his gaze for a moment, gathering himself before continuing his movements.
You listen to me with more patience than anyone else ever has. You never look at me as though my silence makes me less of a man. And when you are beside me, I find myself wanting to show you every part of who I am, even the parts I have spent my life keeping hidden. His thumb brushes over the side of her gloved hand.
Elara’s lips tremble. “I have done all of that?”
Cael gives her a nod. You did not have to try. That is what makes it precious.
She looks away, overwhelmed by the tenderness in his expression, before slowly returning her gaze to him. “Then why does it feel as though I have done so little?”
Tears stream down Elara’s cheeks as the warmth of his words embrace her broken heart. She covers her face, which she considers hideous. The poems of his she secretly and desperately read to figure out his feelings return to her memory.
Her entire body trembles as her sobs fill the garden. “No. I do not deserve this.”
Cael’s hands gently pulling her gloved ones away from her face. He presses his lips against her forehead. Still on one knee, he leans forward, offering her support.
Elara wraps her arms weakly around his neck, crying against him. Cael pats her back beneath the coat, bringing the direct warmth of his contact to her shivering frame.
She shakes her head against his shoulder. “I have been so afraid, Cael. I felt and thought that I was completely alone. Queen Maereth made me feel as though I were not enough for anyone.” She sniffles, her voice breaking. “I prayed for happiness, but I feel like I will never catch it.”
Cael looks up at her face, his cheeks stained with tears like hers. His hands slip away from her frame to sign his intent. I will try my best to make you happy. I want to see you happy. The world has been cruel to your life. He shakes his head, his fingers trembling while he continues. I want to be enough for you to rely on my strength. I want to prove my devotion through actions, rather than offering empty promises with my hands.
Elara tenses, her frame torn between old loyalties and new realities. Her sobs fade, yet the force of the release leaves her frame trembling. For her entire life, she depended on a mother who harbored secrets, relying on withering flowers and falling petals to guide her choices. She prayed to a world that abandoned her for years, ignoring her desperate grasp for its attention.
Whoever or whatever granted Cael to her life, the truth remains clear. The marriage once felt like a punishment on the day King Eric displayed his cruelty during the cold exchange of rings.
Now, the pain of every single loss she tried to comprehend washes away in Cael’s embrace.
First, you must rest. You are ill, Cael signs.
“No wonder my throat has been aching all morning. It must be the cold,” Elara murmurs, bringing the back of her hand to her forehead.
Cael’s smile shifts into a humorous line. It is because you did not wear the coat enough.
Elara almost chuckles, but a cough interrupts the sound, her teeth clattering from the cold. Before she can react, Cael gathers her into his arms. He carries her with ease, lifting her away from the benches and navigating the path toward the palace entrance.
The doors click shut behind them, cutting off the rushing sound of the fountain and locking the freezing winter wind outside. The warmth of the interior hallways greets her skin, though it does not ease the shivering within her limbs. She keeps her arms wrapped tightly around his neck in fear of slipping from his grip, watching the dark gray masonry of the corridors slowly pass over her head as he walks.
He adjusts his hold as they reach the base of the grand staircase, shifting her weight closer to his chest to offer a more reassuring embrace. Each step he takes up the winding stairs is slow, a prolonged silence hanging between them as her head rests against his shoulder.
