Chapter 12: A Test of Loyalty
This morning, as dew still clung to the palace gardens, Shapira Elanora felt a different kind of cold, one that pierced the very depths of her heart. The shadow of William's jealousy, like a thick fog, still hung between them. Whispers of doubt began to dance in her mind. Yesterday's events, William's sharp reaction to a young nobleman who had approached her, had become a thorn piercing their relationship.
"Can he truly trust me?" Shapira murmured to the mirror in her chamber. Her slender fingers traced the cold carvings on the mirror's frame, the silent witness to her turmoil. "Or will Anya's shadow always haunt him, keeping him from me?"
The mirror reflected her weary gaze, her usually bright eyes now dimmed by anxiety. She saw herself, not Anya, but why did it feel like it was never enough? A heavy sigh escaped Shapira's lips. She felt an invisible wall being built again between them, each brick a memory of William's for Anya, memories Shapira could never tear down.
"What does he really want from me?" The question spun in her head. "True love, or just a replacement for a loss he can never forget?" Shapira clenched her hands, feeling a disappointment begin to grow inside her.
Later, she found William in the banquet hall, preoccupied with scrolls of maps and in serious discussion with his commanders. Grave voices discussing war strategies and troop movements filled the room. Shapira approached hesitantly, sensing the palpable urgency radiating from every soldier there.
"William," Shapira tried to call. Her voice trembled slightly, but she fought to keep it firm, trying to pull his attention from a world consumed by conflict.
William turned, his gaze meeting hers for a fleeting moment before returning to the map spread across the wooden table. A deep furrow was etched between his brows, a sign of profound worry. "What is it, Shapira?" he said, his tone rushed, burdened by the responsibility on his shoulders. "I'm busy, we're discussing preparations. The threat from Lucian is becoming more real."
"I just ... wanted to talk for a moment," Shapira tried again, her voice softer, attempting to reach him through his distress. "About us. About what happened yesterday."
William let out a long sigh, his finger tapping an impatient rhythm on the map, as if every second was precious gold being wasted. "Not now, Shapira. This isn't the right time for that. The kingdom is in danger. The lives of thousands depend on the decisions we make today."
He didn't look at Shapira, not even glancing up. She felt her heart sink, as if her entire existence had become irrelevant in the face of William's duties. She felt dismissed, as if her feelings had no place in his current priorities. A chasm yawned between them, and she felt herself teetering on the edge, alone.
"I understand," Shapira said quietly, though the words tasted bitter on her tongue, like a poison slowly eating away at her hope. "I'm sorry to bother you." Shapira stepped back, a sharp pain in her chest compounding the doubt she already felt. Was she truly that unimportant? That doubt was now curdling into a deep disappointment, leaving a bitter trail in her soul. She turned away, leaving William still fixated on his duty, unaware of the wound he had just inflicted on the woman who stood by his side.
A short time later, a message arrived at Shapira's chamber, delivered by a hurried servant. King Astellia, with a wisdom that often surpassed his son's, had summoned Shapira to his throne room. Shapira arrived with a still-heavy heart, wondering what the King could possibly want.
The King smiled warmly as Shapira bowed respectfully. His old but sharp eyes regarded Shapira with complete understanding. "Shapira," the King said, his voice calm but full of authority, as if he could see right into her soul. "I've noticed some tension between you and William lately."
Shapira looked up, surprised that the King was so perceptive, so attuned to the subtle dynamics of the palace. "My apologies, Your Majesty," she whispered, ashamed that her turmoil was so visible.
"Don't apologize," the King said with a reassuring wave of his hand. "Such things are common in close relationships, especially under this kind of pressure. But I wish to give you a task. The palace library, as you know, is quite a mess, and no one has tended to it for a long time. I want you to organize it."
Shapira looked at the King, confused. Why such a simple task, and why give it to her? "Organize the library, Your Majesty?"
"That's right," the King said with a nod, his wise smile widening. "I trust you have the intelligence and diligence for it. It will give you a positive distraction, a chance to show your abilities in a field other than magic, and perhaps some peace from the palace's clamor. William will help as he can."
William, who happened to be passing through the hall and heard the end of the conversation, frowned. Shapira saw the annoyed expression on his face, though he tried to hide it. However, William didn't dare defy his father's command, merely offering a brief bow before continuing on his way.
"Of course, Your Majesty," Shapira replied, a sliver of hope seeping into her wounded heart. Perhaps this was a chance to prove herself, not just as William's lover, but as someone useful to the kingdom, someone with value beyond her feelings for him.
And so, Shapira spent the following days in the palace library. The air inside was damp, filled with the scent of old paper and dust that danced in the shafts of sunlight filtering through the tall, stained-glass windows. The library's silence, broken only by the sound of turning pages, felt soothing after the tension outside. Shapira's fingers gently ran along the intricately carved wooden shelves, sorting through scattered books, clearing every corner of old cobwebs, and organizing piles of parchment scrolls.
As Shapira was tidying a stack of scrolls in the most hidden corner, a place that had been left untouched for centuries, she felt something hard and cold beneath her hand. She pulled out an ancient book, its cover made of thick, peeling leather, adorned with symbols she didn't recognize, symbols that felt both foreign and familiar at the same time. A strange energy radiated from the book, a faint whisper that seemed to call to her, drawing her in with a force she couldn't explain.
She carefully opened the first page. The writing within was not in the common tongue she knew, but somehow, the words flowed into her mind as if she had known them her entire life, as if an ancient memory was being unlocked. "The Prophecies of Nymira," Shapira murmured, reading the clearly displayed title, her voice filled with wonder.
She began to read, lost in the ancient text. The book spoke of a woman from another world, destined to bring great change to Nymira, one who would "be a bridge between two realities." She read of a fate intertwined with a prince, of a curse that had to be broken, and of a love that must be tested in the fires of war.
"This woman will possess the power of the past and the hope of the future," she read aloud, her voice trembling, feeling an indescribable connection. Her heart pounded as if the book were a mirror reflecting her own soul. Was this prophecy about her? Could her destiny have been written long before she stepped through that mysterious door? This wasn't just a story. It was a clue, a map to who she truly was. There were hidden hints in every sentence, as if she were finding the missing pieces to the puzzle of her existence.
Shapira read on, hoping to find more clues, an answer, or at least a confirmation of her bewildering identity. Time passed without her noticing, sucked into the vortex of the ancient prophecy that seemed to speak directly to her, revealing a destiny far greater than she had imagined, a destiny that was now beginning to feel terrifyingly real.
Night fell, the sky a blanket of cold, black velvet studded with stars, casting a faint silver light over the palace. Shapira returned to her room, her mind still filled with the prophecy from the ancient book. She sat on the edge of her bed, mulling over the words that echoed in her head. What did it all mean? Who was she, really, and what was she supposed to do with this knowledge?
Suddenly, a strange flash of light from her window caught her attention. It flickered, piercing the darkness of the palace gardens, which were normally lit only by the guards' torches and the moonlight. Curiosity overcame her exhaustion. She rose and walked to the window, her eyes fixed on the strange phenomenon outside.
Through the clear glass, Shapira saw a group of small figures moving stealthily among the rose bushes and dense trees. They were dwarves, dressed in dark cloaks that seemed to blend into the night shadows. Something was wrong. Dwarves were rarely seen in the palace grounds, especially at this late hour, and their movements were careful, like trained spies. They moved too quickly, too covertly, carrying torches that emitted an eerie blue light, not ordinary fire.
A terrible premonition washed over Shapira, making her skin crawl. They didn't look like ordinary garden workers, and the light they carried wasn't from a normal lantern, but a flickering magical light that hinted at a darker purpose. Her instincts screamed that danger was approaching, that something evil was lurking within the palace walls. Was this connected to Lucian's threat? Or was there a new enemy lurking within, taking advantage of the chaos for their own ends?
Without a second thought, Shapira grabbed the cloak hanging near her bed. She had to find out. She had to follow them. Her heart pounded, torn between a gripping fear and a burning determination to protect this place and the people she loved. She couldn't let danger get close to William and his kingdom without acting, without trying to understand what was happening.
Shapira opened her chamber window, the cold night air hitting her face, its sharp sensation steeling her resolve. She slipped out, landing softly on the damp garden soil, her steps nearly silent. Her movements were agile, like a shadow gliding between the trees. She began to follow the group of dwarves, her steps quiet, her breath held, every muscle tense with vigilance. Each step took her deeper into the mystery shadowing Astellia, deeper into her own complicated destiny, and toward a threat she did not yet understand.