Morning came quietly.
No attendants arrived to wake her. No maids drew the curtains or prepared warm water. The grand room remained still, wrapped in an unnatural silence that did not belong in a palace.
Elira opened her eyes slowly.
For a moment, she forgot where she was.
Then the memories returned.
The empire. The title. The cradle.
Her gaze snapped to the side.
Kael was still there.
Still breathing. Still alone.
A faint sense of relief settled in her chest—strange, unfamiliar. In her past life, no one had ever depended on her. No one had needed her presence just to exist peacefully.
But now—
She pushed herself upright, wobbling slightly before steadying her small body. The cold marble floor sent a chill through her bare feet as she climbed down and made her way to the cradle.
Kael was awake.
His tiny face scrunched, his lips trembling as soft, broken cries escaped him. It wasn't loud—not enough to demand attention.
Just enough to reveal discomfort.
Just enough to be ignored.
Elira frowned.
"They didn't feed you…" she murmured.
The realization came naturally, carried by the memories of this body. Servants came rarely. And when they did, it was out of obligation, not care.
A neglected princess. A cursed prince.
No one prioritized them.
Kael's cries grew slightly louder, his small hands waving weakly in the air as if searching for something that wasn't there.
Elira hesitated.
She was three.
What could she even do?
Her eyes scanned the room desperately until they landed on a small table nearby. A covered tray sat on top—likely left behind hours ago.
Step by unsteady step, she made her way toward it.
It took effort to reach up, her fingers barely managing to push the lid aside. Inside was food meant for her—soft bread, a small dish of porridge, and a cup of water.
Cold.
Untouched.
She stared at it for a moment.
Then she grabbed the cup.
Carefully—clumsily—she carried it back, her steps slow, her grip tight. A little water spilled along the way, soaking her sleeve, but she didn't stop.
When she reached the cradle, Kael was still crying.
Still waiting.
"I don't know how to do this…" she whispered.
Her voice trembled—not from fear, but from frustration.
In her past life, she had never taken care of a child.
No one had taken care of her either.
But leaving him like this—
That wasn't an option.
She dipped her fingers into the water and gently touched his lips.
At first, nothing happened.
Then instinct took over.
Kael quieted slightly, his tiny mouth moving as he sought the moisture. It wasn't enough—not even close—but it eased him, if only a little.
Elira felt something tighten in her chest.
This wasn't right.
This wasn't how a prince should live.
Footsteps suddenly echoed from beyond the door.
She froze.
The door opened.
Two maids entered, their expressions stiff and uninterested. Their eyes swept across the room before landing on her—standing beside the cradle, her sleeve wet, her hand still hovering near the baby.
There was a brief pause.
Then one of them sighed.
"Your Highness, you shouldn't be out of bed," she said flatly.
No bow. No urgency.
Just empty formality.
Elira said nothing.
Her small hand slowly lowered, but her body didn't move away from the cradle.
The second maid approached, glancing down at Kael with clear discomfort.
"He's crying again," she muttered. "Troublesome child…"
Elira's eyes darkened.
The maid reached down, not to comfort—but to check, quick and careless. Her movements lacked gentleness, as though handling something fragile was nothing more than a chore.
"Feed him and be done with it," the first maid added, already turning toward the tray. "And take the princess back to bed."
"Waste of effort," the second one scoffed under her breath. "Neither of them matter anyway."
The words were quiet.
But Elira heard them.
Every single one.
Something cold settled deep within her chest.
Slowly, deliberately, she stepped forward—placing herself between the maid and the cradle.
The movement was small.
But it was enough.
Both maids paused, surprised.
"Your Highness?" one of them frowned.
Elira lifted her head.
Her expression was calm.
Too calm for a child.
"Be gentle," she said softly.
It wasn't a demand.
It wasn't loud.
But something in her voice—steady, unwavering—made the air feel heavier.
The maids exchanged glances.
Annoyance flickered across their faces, but they didn't argue. Not openly.
Still, the way the second maid handled Kael didn't change much.
Rough. Indifferent.
As if his discomfort meant nothing.
Elira watched.
And in that moment—
She understood.
No one was coming to save them.
No one would suddenly care.
No miracle would change their place in this palace.
If Kael was to survive—if he was to become anything other than the monster the story had written—
Then it would start here.
With her.
Her small hands clenched slightly at her sides.
Fine.
If the empire chose to ignore them—
Then she would no longer wait for it.
She would take what little power she had…
And use it.
Even if she was just a forgotten princess.
Even if she was only three years old.
She would protect him.
No matter what it cost.