The smell of cooking food filled the quiet kitchen. Elara poured the eggs into the pan and stirred slowly, watching them solidify, letting the repetitive motion settle her thoughts.
She was exhausted. Her body was weak. The paperwork wasn't finished. The other princesses would retaliate soon. The Emperor's support was conditional. Her household was half-empty and she was standing alone in a kitchen at four in the morning cooking her own food because she'd worked through dinner and forgotten to eat.
In her old life, this would have been a Tuesday.
Elara plated the eggs, turned off the hearth, and sat at the small staff table in the corner. She ate quickly, efficiently, tasting nothing but processing fuel.
When she finished, she washed the dish herself—no point waking servants for that—and walked back through the empty halls to her chambers.
