Elowen
I follow the handmaid through the long corridors, my footsteps soft against the marble floors. The castle is waking; torches flicker in the halls, casting pale shadows that seem to reach for me. My stomach tightens with each step. The king's chamber waits at the end, doors heavier than any I have ever touched. I swallow. I have never been summoned like this before.
"She is to enter at once," the handmaid whispers.
I nod. I have no choice.
The doors open, and the chamber swallows me whole. Sunlight slants through tall windows, but it does little to soften the severity of the room. The king sits at the head of the table, robes dark and immaculate, his eyes narrowing the moment they land on me. Advisors and scribes flank him on either side, quills and scrolls ready, pens poised like weapons.
"Your Majesty," I begin, keeping my voice steady, "you summoned me?"
He does not respond. His gaze pins me in place. Then, slow and deliberate, he speaks.
"The handmaidens say you were last seen with Prince Rowan." His voice is sharp, slicing through the quiet. "Explain yourself, girl. What were you doing in his company?"
I falter, heart hammering. "I… I was merely speaking with him, Your Majesty. About, about the arrangements for the council. I meant no, no harm."
"No!" He slams a hand onto the table. The sound echoes, making me jump. "Do not waste words with excuses. This is not idle chatter."
The advisors murmur among themselves. One, a thin man with graying hair, leans forward. "Your Majesty," he says, voice trembling slightly, "given the recent disappearance of Prince Rowan and the unrest at the borders, perhaps the girl is more than a simple bride. Perhaps she is a bad omen."
Another, younger and eager, nods vigorously.
"Sent to bring war upon our kingdom. The signs are not to be ignored. Her presence with Prince Rowan at that hour, improper for a wife, cannot be a coincidence."
I feel a shiver run down my spine. "No, Your Majesty. I....."
The king raises a hand. Silence falls, heavy and absolute. I can feel every eye in the room on me, weighing, judging, ready to condemn.
Finally, a low, controlled voice cuts through the tension. "Enough."
Cassian steps forward from where he has been standing silently near the back, his presence immediately shifting the air. "She is not a bad omen. She is not a threat. She is my wife, and nothing beyond that." His gray eyes sweep across the room, daring anyone to challenge him.
The scribes and advisors falter. Some glance at one another uncertainly. The king's expression does not soften, but there is a flicker of curiosity or perhaps calculation in his eyes.
"She has done nothing to endanger this kingdom," Cassian continues, voice steady but edged with controlled authority. "She has been nothing but attentive, obedient to protocol, and careful in every action. If anyone is to be blamed for any unrest, it is not her. It is not my wife."
I can barely breathe. Relief and awe curl inside me. I had never seen him defend me so openly, so forcefully.
The sharp, quiet power of his voice sends a tremor through the council. The king leans back slightly, lips pressed together, and the murmurs die down.
"Be it as you say," the king finally replies, still severe, still watchful. "But know this, Elowen. Your presence here is not a guarantee of trust. Every step you take will be observed. Every word recorded."
"Yes, Your Majesty," I whisper, bowing low, the weight of his gaze pressing me to the floor.
Cassian's hand brushes mine briefly as we move toward the exit, a subtle but grounding reminder. I dare to glance at him.
His expression is unreadable, but in that moment, I know he will not allow anyone to accuse me lightly. Not here. Not now.
As we leave the chamber, my heart still races, but not from fear alone. For the first time, I feel a sliver of protection, a shield formed not from walls or guards, but from him, from Cassian.
Even as the council whispers behind us, even as the weight of suspicion lingers, I realize something crucial.
"I am not powerless here," I think. "Not while he stands for me."
And yet, the shadows of the council, the sharp eyes of the advisors, and the king's lingering judgment remind me that survival in this place will require more than favor. It will require cunning, patience, and the careful understanding of when to speak and when to remain silent.