---
The palace was preparing for a ball.
Not just any ball—a diplomatic gala to honor the visiting delegation from the Kingdom of Solmere. Nobles from across the continent would gather in the grand hall, dressed in silk and ambition, their smiles sharp as daggers.
Elara stood before her mirror, the seamstress fussing over the final adjustments to her gown. It was a masterpiece of sapphire silk and silver embroidery, the train cascading like a waterfall behind her. Her crown gleamed under candlelight, delicate and regal.
But her eyes were distant.
She hadn't seen Kael in three days.
Their last conversation had been brief—a nod in the corridor, a shared glance across the council table. He was busy, always busy. And she was learning that love, in this world, was not loud. It was quiet. It was choosing to stay. Choosing to protect.
Even when it hurt.
---
The Whisper of Scandal
That afternoon, Valeria entered her solar with a rare urgency.
"There is a matter you must be made aware of," she said, her voice low.
Elara set down her quill. "Go on."
Valeria handed her a parchment—an intercepted letter from the Solmere delegation. It was coded, but the translation was clear.
> The King of Thorne is vulnerable. His decisions are erratic. His Queen is gaining influence. If we strike now, we may secure the trade routes and destabilize the court. The Queen may be… persuadable.
Elara's blood ran cold.
"They mean to use me," she said.
Valeria nodded. "Or discredit you. Either way, they intend to fracture the throne."
Elara stared at the parchment.
She could expose them.
She could bring the letter to Kael, demand justice, assert her power.
But doing so would confirm the rumors—that she was politically active, that she was a threat. It would force Kael to choose between diplomacy and loyalty. And if he chose wrong, the kingdom could fall.
She folded the parchment slowly.
"I'll handle it," she said.
Valeria's eyes narrowed. "How?"
Elara looked out the window, where the ballroom was being prepared.
"I'll dance."
---
The grand hall shimmered with candlelight and crystal.
Music floated through the air, soft and elegant. Nobles twirled across the marble floor, their laughter echoing like bells. Elara entered on Kael's arm, her presence commanding. The crowd parted for them, bowing, curtsying, whispering.
Kael leaned close. "You look…"
She turned to him. "Like a queen?"
He smiled faintly. "Like a storm." She felt her heart beat faster, he had smiled at her and even complimented her, and she couldn't help but feel something. Even if she knew he had no feelings for her it still felt good, to know he still noticed her. She also knew that she couldn't take the place of Seraphina but at least she was beginning to have one , she hoped.
They danced once—formal, distant, beautiful. Then Kael was pulled away by advisors, diplomats, duties.
Elara moved through the crowd, her smile practiced, her eyes sharp. She found the Solmere envoy—Lord Renald, a man with too-white teeth and a voice like oil.
"Your Majesty," he said, bowing low. "A pleasure."
"The pleasure is mine," she replied.
They spoke of trade, of art, of politics. He hinted at alliances. She deflected with grace. He offered her wine. She declined.
Then he leaned in.
"You deserve more than ceremonial duties," he whispered. "You deserve power."
Elara's smile didn't falter.
"I have all the power I need." What was more power if she couldn't be with the one she loved.
---
Later that night, Elara stood on the balcony overlooking the city.
Kael joined her, silent as always.
"They're planning something," she said.
He nodded. "I know."
She turned to him. "Then why do nothing?"
Kael's jaw tightened. "Because war is not won with truth. It's won with silence."
Elara's heart ached.
She could expose the letter.
She could burn the Solmere delegation to ash.
But Kael had chosen diplomacy.
And she had chosen him.
She reached into her sleeve and handed him the parchment.
"I intercepted this."
Kael read it, his face unreadable.
Then he looked at her.
"You could have used this."
"I didn't."
"Why?"
Elara met his gaze.
"Because I couldn't let them hurt you."
Kael's expression hardened.
"You think that makes you noble?"
"No," she said quietly. "It makes me loyal."
He stepped closer, his voice low and sharp.
"You ruined everything. Seraphina and I—what we had—what we were meant to be. You shattered it."
Elara's breath caught, there he goes again making her reject everything again, making her feel like she's nothing but a pest in his life, making her feel unwanted, just because she chose to live.
"I know."
Kael's eyes burned. "Then don't pretend this is love. Don't pretend this is redemption."
"I'm not pretending," she whispered. "I'm surviving."
He stared at her for a long moment.
Then turned and walked away.
---
The next morning, the Solmere delegation departed early.
No scandal. No confrontation.
Just quiet dismissal.
Kael never spoke of the letter again.
But he began to change.
He invited Elara to strategy meetings.
He asked her opinion in public.
He walked with her through the city, not as a king with his consort—but as a man with his shadow.
The court buzzed.
The nobles whispered.
But Elara stood tall.
She had chosen protection.
And protection had chosen her back.
---
In the quiet of her chamber, Elara opened her journal.
She wrote:
> I protected him. Not because he loves me. But because I love the man I wrote.
> They will never know I crafted this world. They will never know I gave him life.
> But he is learning to live it. And I am learning to endure it.
> That is enough.
She closed the journal.
Outside, the kingdom stirred.
Inside, the queen stood.
---