"Where did you put it?" Ray asked, looking through the bookshelf with growing impatience.
"I don't remember," Rui mumbled, already searching random corners of the room that had absolutely nothing to do with books.
Meanwhile, Grace lounged across the bedside, half-lying with her legs dangling over the edge. Her head rested against her left hand atop a pillow as she watched the two with a soft, contented smile—the quiet sort reserved for someone thoroughly enjoying another person's chaos.
"Found it!" Rui suddenly announced.
"You did?" Ray asked, perking up.
"Yeah..." Rui sighed dreamily. "My moony."
"Moony?" Ray echoed, one eyebrow rising.
Rui held up a small handmade wizard plush, dressed in gold-patterned fabric with lace, beads, and a tiny ribbon bow. A pointed hat with a bell perched atop its head, star-shaped button eyes gleamed, and a miniature potion bottle hung at its side. Adorable. Dusty. Slightly tragic.
Rui hugged it tightly. "Oh, Moony, I missed you so much. I thought I'd lost you—"
She froze.
A chill crept up her spine.
Slowly, she turned.
Ray was staring at her.
Not with curiosity. Not with confusion.
He was staring straight into her soul.
Rui let out a weak laugh. "Uh... Moony," she said, her voice wavering, "I'll... play with you some other day."
Without breaking eye contact with Ray, she carefully—very carefully—set the plush on the drawer as though it might explode, then immediately turned and resumed searching for the book. A single bead of sweat trickled down her forehead.
Grace couldn't help but chuckle softly, her fond smile only deepening as the two resumed their frantic search.
.
.
.
"Found it!" Rui announced—again.
Ray didn't even look up this time. He simply let out a long, exhausted sigh. "Rui... not again."
"No, I actually found it this time." She held up the book with a grin. "The book."
That got Ray's attention. He turned, one eyebrow lifting with cautious hope.
"Really?"
"Yep. Look." Rui held up the book as though she'd just uncovered a long-lost treasure.
It was... a storybook. The cover featured a rather questionable illustration of an egg—one that looked oddly uncertain about being an egg.
They handed the book to Grace before climbing onto the bed beside her, the mattress dipping beneath their combined weight as they waited expectantly for her to open it.
Grace sat up, swept her cape aside, and took the book. She blinked at the peculiar cover before reading the title aloud.
"The Oval Egg?"
Her voice carried the perfect blend of confusion and concern reserved for something that might be literature... or an elaborate prank.
She looked at the two of them, one brow slightly raised, her expression clearly asking (You're seriously making me read this?)
Their sparkling, expectant eyes answered before either of them could.
"It's really good. And really emotional. We already read it once, but..." Ray declared proudly, "we couldn't get enough."
Rui nodded so vigorously her ponytail nearly became a helicopter.
"Well... if you insist," Grace muttered, already bracing herself for whatever awaited inside.
She opened the book.
(Rui, I understand. But Ray too?) she thought, casting him a quietly judgmental side glance before clearing her throat.
"Once upon a time, there was an egg named Oval..."
Her voice was light and airy, carried by the cool breeze drifting through the slightly open window after the rain. The curtains swayed gently, the soft whisper of wind filling the spacious room. To the right of the bed stood an enormous bookshelf, a silent guardian of countless stories and every other subject it faithfully watched over.
The bed was warm and absurdly comfortable, which meant Rui and Ray were already dozing off like two overfed kittens. Grace, however, was too absorbed in the story—and far too invested in discovering what kind of author would name an egg 'Oval.'
The room was dim, but not nearly dim enough to lull her to sleep. Not that it would have mattered. Her own room was practically a cave, draped in dark tones—a quiet declaration that she and bright colors had long agreed to stay out of each other's lives.
Finally, she reached the last page.
"...and they made an omelette out of him and ate him," she finished evenly, as though this were the most perfectly reasonable ending to a children's story.
She stared at the book for a long moment before letting out a soft, disbelieving breath.
"Wow. What a story," she murmured. "I really ought to have a word with whoever's publishing these."
She closed the book with a firm 'thump.'
"So... what n—"
She turned, only to find both of them fast asleep, mouths slightly open, their innocence fully restored by unconsciousness.
Grace's expression softened. Leaning down, she pressed a gentle kiss to each of their heads, careful not to disturb their peaceful sleep.
She rose quietly, returned the book to the shelf—where it could haunt future generations—and crossed the room to close the window. As she drew it shut, her gaze drifted outside.
The guests had long since departed. Only the palace guards remained, standing watch beneath the soft glow left by the passing rain.
"Welfred has probably turned in by now..." she murmured. "I only wish Uncle had done the same."
Her thoughts drifted.
"He said he needed to fix something with the weapon... or rather, my present, so he could give it to me tomorrow. Is that why he left dinner early?"
"I hope so," she whispered.
She let the curtain slip through her fingers, then quietly slipped out of the room.
.
.
.
"There we go," Grace murmured as she draped her cape over the wooden figure— just a carved torso with a head perched on a stand, yet tonight it somehow felt like an audience.
She stepped back, hands folding behind her as she released a steady breath. The cape settled perfectly, and Grace studied it for a moment.
"I've finally become the queen… officially," she said to herself with a small, breathy laugh, eyes lingering on the cape.
{ In Elenor, becoming ruler as a child was never as simple as inheriting a crown. If tragedy struck and a monarch died, the throne passed to their surviving partner. But if fate was crueller still— if both king and queen were lost— the eldest capable child was declared ruler… in name only.
Until adulthood, their reign was more ceremony than sovereignty. They couldn't draft laws, command the armies, sign treaties, or even step into a council chamber without an advisor trailing at their shoulder. They were expected to 'lead,' yet forbidden from steering too far in any direction.
It was a crown without weight, power without bite— like a tiger declawed. A monarch in every visible sense, and yet, in truth, a figurehead waiting for their real reign to begin.}