The cool morning air clung to Elara’s skin as she walked through the palace hallways, a stark contrast to the warmth of the lantern-lit night before. Soft golden light filtered through the tall windows, casting long shadows against the polished marble floors. The hush of dawn had settled over the palace, yet the murmurs of servants still carried through the corridors.

  As she passed, they straightened, their eyes darting away as if they hadn’t just been whispering behind cupped hands. Elara wasn’t naive, she knew what they were gossiping about. Luminara had ended, but its echoes remained.

  Despite the hours that had passed, sleep had evaded her. Restlessness coiled in her chest; each step heavy with the weight of lingering thoughts. Last night still clung to her, refusing to fade with the morning light.

  Are they talking about me and Arion? She felt a flush of embarrassment rise to her cheeks, the burden of her secret affair tightening around her chest.

  But then, like a breath of fresh air, she remembered Arion’s words; Let’s stop running and hiding. I love you, Elara, and I want to marry you.

  It was as if a shroud had been lifted, and with it, the weight of secrecy. Her love for Arion was no longer something to conceal, but something to embrace, even in the face of judgment.

  Her pace quickened as she neared the royal gardens. She stepped through the grand archway into the open air, greeted by the lush beauty of the garden. Blossoming vines trailed over marble arches, beyond them, a small pavilion sat beneath the shade of ancient trees, their thick branches casting dappled sunlight on the stone floor.

  She slowed near the pavilion, holding her breath as the voices carried on the breeze. Her father and his trusted adviser Kharis spoke in low tones, barely audible beneath the rustle of the garden’s breeze.

  "Rumors are spreading fast Your Majesty," Kharis murmured. "Some say Theron used dark sorcery to resurrect the queen." Elara’s breath hitched.

  "Ridiculous!" the king yelled; a sound of her father's chair scraped against the stone as he shifted.

  "I’m afraid it may be more than rumor, Your Grace," Kharis continued. "The temple healers reported. They've sensed an unnatural flow within the queen’s body. Something dark, they say it repels the Aether’s force."

  A cold shiver ran down Elara’s spine. Dark sorcery? Theron?

  She bit her lip, her mind racing. She had been so caught up in her own worries that she had barely registered the tension in her father’s voice. She had heard whispers of her stepmother’s passing during Luminara and the strange resurrection before but she had been consumed with her own problems to pay much attention to it. Now, doubt crept in. Could there be truth to them?

  Theron, her half-brother had always been distant, but lately, he had grown even more withdrawn since his mother’s health declined. But dark magic? She struggled to imagine it.

  “Inform the Temple healers that I request an audience with them,” Eldrion’s voice cut through her thoughts. “Meanwhile, gather more details.” He hesitated briefly before adding, “And keep an eye on Theron.”

  There was a heavy silence as the adviser inclined his head, turning to leave just as Elara gathered her courage and stepped forward into the light of the pavilion.

  "Father."

  Kharis bowed as she entered, his eyes briefly meeting hers before he moved past her. Eldrion didn’t look at her immediately, his gaze still fixed in the direction of his departing adviser.

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  “Elara.” His voice was calm, but there was a simmering anger beneath it. "Do you know why I summoned you?"

  "Yes, Father." She swallowed, her throat dry, but held her head high.

  “Do you have any idea what kind of embarrassment you've caused me?" Eldrion's voice cut through the silence, sharp as a knife. The muscles in his jaw tensing as he tried to rein in his fury.

  "You, fleeing from your guard. Running off with that boy at Luminara. Do you realize what people are saying? What they will continue to say?”

  The word "boy" was spat out like it was beneath him, beneath them. Elara felt a surge of anger, but she fought to control it.

  “His name is Arion, father. He’s a dedicated custodian to the temple. You would know he is honorable, he is good, if you would just meet him.”

  Elara paused for a moment to muster up confidence before laying it plainly, "Father, Arion wishes to ask your permission for my hand in marriage."

  He stared at her, wide-eyed. “Marriage? To a Temple Custodian?” His expression darkened as his eyes narrowed. “No. I have plans to see you wed into your mother’s kingdom, Kerios.” Eldrion’s voice softened, his tone tinged with disappointment.

  Eldrion exhaled sharply, rubbing his temple. “Your uncle Adir’s son, eldest...” He hesitated. “Or any of his sons, if you prefer.”

  Eldrion’s tone sank lower as he saw tears streaming down Elara’s cheeks, a note of desperation seeping into his voice. “You would be happy there, Elara, as the future queen of Kerios. And it further strengthens our bond with Kerios. Ensuring peace for the generations to come.”

  “I… father, I can’t do that. I... I love Arion.” Elara stammered.

  Rising abruptly from his chair, he paced a few steps before turning back to face her. "This childish infatuation will pass. Don’t throw away the future I’ve built for you —for Aetheria."

  Eldrion’s paused for a moment, trying to maintain his composure before continuing, “I married your mother because it was the right thing to do, for the kingdom.”

  His tone became a tad softer as he looked in her eyes as he explained, “My dear, love is a luxury rulers can’t afford.”

  "Perhaps not," Elara shot back, meeting his piercing gaze, "but you grew to love her, didn’t you?" Her voice wavered, but she held firm. "I already have that with Arion. Why shouldn’t I fight to keep it? If you had the chance to bring Mother back, to be with her again... would you not?"

  Eldrion’s expression flickered, a shadow of pain crossing his features before he masked it.

  “You are a princess!” Eldrion replied in a harsher tone. “Your duty is to the crown, to Aetheria. Not to yourself!”

  The silence that followed was heavy, fraught with unspoken words and simmering tension. Elara took a step back, her chin held high even as tears threatened to spill again.

  “Then I am sorry, father,” Her voice wavered, but she held firm. “My heart is not something I can trade away. Not even for the kingdom.”

  Eldrion’s gaze bore into hers, a storm of emotions swirling in his eyes, anger, frustration, and perhaps, somewhere deep down, a hint of understanding. He opened his mouth to speak, but Elara stepped forward, her voice rising. “And if I can’t marry him, know this: I won’t marry at all.”

  Eldrion’s eyes widened briefly at her words, his usual composure faltering for just a moment. Elara pressed on; her voice steady despite the weight of the conversation.

  “The Temple is as revered as the Palace, perhaps more so. To dismiss the Temple, or Arion, as beneath us... that’s arrogance.” She stepped closer, her voice lowering but resonating with conviction. “I would rather serve my people alongside him as a custodian, than rule as queen of Kerios or any other kingdom.”

  Her words hung in the air, charged with emotion, filling the room with a silence that felt louder than any argument. The fire in Eldrion's eyes dimmed, replaced by a weariness that made him seem older, almost vulnerable. He turned away and sank heavily into his chair, rubbing his temples as though trying to chase away the conflict warring within him.

  “You make it sound so simple,” he said at last, his voice low and rough. “But it’s not, it never is.”

  Elara hesitated, then cautiously she stepped closer, “It could be father,” she said softly, her words edged with hope. “At least meet him. Speak to him. You’ll understand why I believe in him.”

  Eldrion’s silence stretched, thick with unspoken thoughts, his gaze fixed on some distant point as though searching for answers. When he finally spoke, his tone was quieter, almost resigned.

  “I have enough burdens to carry as it is,” he muttered. His hand fell to the armrest, heavy, final. “I need time to think, we will discuss this later.”

  Elara felt her breath catch; her chest tight with the fragile bloom of hope. It wasn’t a yes, but it wasn’t a no either.

  She slowly bowed her head as her heart calmed with relief.

  “And until then… do not make this harder than it already is.” Eldrion waved her away, his demeanor softening but still firm.

  She nodded, stepping back from the pavilion. As she turned away, the smallest smile tugged at her lips. It wasn’t a victory. But it was a beginning.

  ***