Elis
The palace was alive with the sounds of day; footsteps echoing off marble and the distant murmur of courtly gossip but my attention kept circling back to one figure.
She moved through the grand hall in a pale lavender gown, Mira and Sera flanking her like she was the sun they revolved around. Her laughter, light and effortless, floated over the murmur of voices. It was Lily's laugh. Exactly Lily's laugh.
But the Lily I knew didn't stroll idly through the palace gardens or linger in the corridors for idle chatter. She didn't spend afternoons on harmless pleasantries. And she didn't bow to me.
Yet when our eyes met across the hall, she smiled and dipped her head. "My King." Not Elis. No Elis.
The formality hit me like a pebble dropped into still water; small, but the ripples spread. The real Lily had a thousand ways of addressing me, depending on her mood, and My King was never one of them unless she was teasing. This one said it like it was gospel.
I told myself to look away, to focus on the business in my hands, but my gaze betrayed me. She was perfect; every curve of her smile, every casual tilt of her head was perfect. Even the way she leaned in toward Mira when they shared some joke was exactly how Lily would have done it.
She passed me in the corridor later today, close enough for her shoulder to brush mine. Her scent lingered, not Lily's lavender and wildflowers, but something softer, manufactured. It was wrong, but my body reacted before my mind could catch up.
"Enjoying your day, My King?" she asked, pausing just long enough for her gaze to lock with mine.
I nodded, forcing my tone to stay flat. "It's been… busy."
Her lips curved. "I hope it eases soon." And with that, she was gone, leaving me standing in the corridor like a fool.
It should have been easy to dismiss her as an illusion, a decoy. But illusions aren't supposed to breathe. They aren't supposed to make your pulse quicken. And this one did.
***
The training yard rang with the clash of steel and the grunt of effort. I slammed my sword into my opponent's shield, sweat dripping into my eyes, but it wasn't the heat that made my grip falter. It was her. Lily.
Not the Lily who had sworn to save me in the woods under the moonlight—no, that one had vanished like mist in the morning. What remained in the palace was… different. Still wearing her face, her voice, but carrying herself with a calculated elegance that made my pulse tighten. She never sought me out directly. She didn't have to.
From the corner of my vision, I caught her again, standing on the balcony above the colonnade, watching the sparring ring. Her hands rested lightly on the stone rail, her head tilted, as if I were merely another distraction in her day. Yet I knew she was aware of me. Always aware.
My opponent's blade grazed my side, snapping me back to the fight. I countered harder than necessary, sending him sprawling, earning a few murmurs from the watching guards. I pretended it was victory that had my breathing uneven, but the truth gnawed at me, I was losing to her without her lifting a finger.
Later, when I passed through the inner courtyard, I saw her again. Not close enough to speak, but close enough to feel the pull. Her gown caught the breeze, and for a moment, sunlight turned her hair to molten gold. She didn't turn to look, yet I knew she knew I was there.
It was maddening. A game where I didn't know the rules, only that I was playing and losing.
That night, lying in my chamber, I swore I wouldn't let her haunt me like this. But when I closed my eyes, I saw the curve of her lips, the cool tilt of her chin, and the way she seemed to hold a secret I was desperate to uncover.
I told myself I could resist.
I wasn't sure I believed it.
***
The council chamber's tall windows poured pale morning light across the table, but the room still felt cold. I sat at the head, fingers curling loosely around the carved armrest of my chair. My mind wasn't on the maps spread before me—it kept drifting back to the strange pull of the shell in the palace and to Lily's warning, to the dull ache in my chest that hadn't eased since she left.
The double doors slammed open. Douglas strode in, cloak still damp from the road, mud streaking his boots, eyes sharp with urgency.
"Your Majesty, the borders are bleeding," he said without so much as a bow. "Three more outposts fell overnight. Guards slaughtered. Defenses breaking. We cannot afford another hour of hesitation, war must be declared."
I studied him, keeping my voice steady. "And in declaring it now, Douglas, we do exactly what Zal wants."
His gauntleted fist came down hard on the table. "What Zal wants is irrelevant when our men are dying! Every moment you delay, the enemy digs deeper into our soil. You think hesitation is wisdom, but it's weakness and it will cost us this kingdom."
Tika was silent inside me, unusually still. Not a growl, not a whisper—just quiet, almost… docile. The absence of his usual growls pressed in on me like a second silence layered over the first.
I leaned forward. "I will not march my people into a trap. Zal's strategy is not physical strength but dark powers and a hasty war will feed him more than it will stop him. I will not spill blood for the sake of appearances."
Douglas's jaw tightened. "I've served under you for years. I know your strength. But lately…" His eyes narrowed, searching my face. "…you're not the same. You speak of traps, dark forces and destiny instead of steel and strategy. Something or someone is changing you."
Lily's voice rose in my mind, clear as if she stood beside me. The memory of her warning burned. I forced my gaze to hold steady on Douglas. "I am still your king. And I decide when we go to war. Not you. Not fear."
"Fear?" He stepped closer, his voice hard. "No, my king. I fear nothing but the doom that will come if you keep waiting. If you've forgotten who you are, the kingdom will pay the price."
The words hung in the air like smoke. My fingers tightened around the armrest, but I didn't answer. Outside, distant bells rang—a reminder that time, and Zal's shadow, were closing in on us both.