I woke up the next morning feeling heavier than usual. The night had been long, my mind spinning with fragments of conversation I had overheard the day before. The words of the king still echoed in my ears—his fear, his insistence that I not learn magic, the mention of grudges, the weight of the Fire Kingdom still alive in me through my hair and blood.
I lay in bed for a long moment, staring at the ceiling, my fingers tightening around the edge of the blanket. I couldn't talk to anyone about what I had heard. Not the prince, not the queen, not even the girls. But one thing had crystallized clearly in my mind: I would learn. I would read that book, discover my history, and if necessary, I would learn magic in secret. They wouldn't stop me—not if I didn't allow it.
When I finally rose, I moved with quiet determination, the morning sunlight spilling into my room. I dressed simply in the day dress the maids had laid out, smoothing the fabric over my shoulders. My hair, short and fiery as ever, caught the light, reminding me of who I was—and of the legacy I carried without even fully understanding it.
I made my way to the study room. Each step was purposeful. I noticed that my usual nerves were tempered by resolve. The prince was already there, sitting at the desk with a pile of papers neatly arranged, his blue hair catching the morning light through the window. He glanced up, as always, but there was something different in my expression today: a sharpness, a quiet intensity.
"You're early," he said, raising an eyebrow, his tone teasing but observant.
"I want to focus," I said simply, setting my bag down and pulling out the small stack of practice books I had been reading. My hands were steady, even as my heart raced.
He studied me for a long moment, then nodded slightly. "Good. Focus is important. And it seems… you're more determined than yesterday."
"I have to be," I said, trying to keep my voice calm. "There's… a lot I need to learn. And I want to be better. Every day."
He leaned back in his chair, studying me with those sharp blue eyes. "Better, yes. But don't overburden yourself. Learning is a process. One step at a time, Lady Elara. First reading, then writing, then understanding."
I nodded, placing the children's book I had been practicing with on the desk. The title was simple, written in large letters: The Adventures of Liora. I opened it to the first page, focusing on the letters I had learned.
"Read it aloud," the prince said, his voice soft but precise.
I took a deep breath and began. "L-i-o-r-a… Liora… went… to… the… forest…"
"Careful with your pronunciation," he said gently. "Take your time with each word. Don't rush. Reading is not just recognizing letters—it's understanding them."
I nodded again, my cheeks warming slightly as I continued. "She… found… a… small… bird… in… the… bushes."
"Better," he said, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Now, try to read the next sentence without hesitation. Trust your eyes. You know these words. You've seen them before."
I swallowed and pushed forward, reading with more confidence. "The… bird… was… frightened… but… Liora… was… gentle… and… kind…"
He nodded approvingly. "Excellent. You're progressing quickly, Elara. It's clear you've been practicing outside of these lessons."
I felt a small thrill of pride. "I… I have been," I admitted. "I didn't want to fall behind. I… I want to learn."
He leaned closer, tapping the page with a slender finger. "And that determination is exactly why you will succeed. Do not let anyone—your own doubts, or anyone else—tell you otherwise. You are capable of more than you think."
I blushed slightly, looking down at the page. His words carried weight, and I felt the familiar push of determination rising inside me.
"Now," he said after a pause, "we'll try writing. Take your quill." He handed me one from the neatly arranged set on his desk. "Start by copying the words from the book. Letters first, then words. Remember what we practiced."
I dipped the quill in ink, my hands slightly trembling, and carefully began to copy each letter. "L… i… o… r… a…"
"Good," he said, observing quietly. "Slow and steady. Do not rush. Precision is more important than speed. Each letter has meaning, each word has power. Remember that."
I continued, the quill scratching softly across the paper. The words were simple, but each stroke demanded concentration. I felt my shoulders tense, my breath measured.
"You're improving," the prince said, leaning slightly over my shoulder. "Look at the first page. Your letters are cleaner, more confident. Soon, you will be able to write full sentences without hesitation."
"I… I hope so," I murmured, biting my lip.
"You will," he said firmly. "I see it in your eyes, Elara. You want it. That's all it takes to begin."
I glanced at him, feeling a small surge of gratitude. "Thank you… for helping me," I said softly.
He nodded, almost brushing past the acknowledgment as though it were natural. "You're learning. That is enough thanks. And if you continue like this, you will surpass even what you imagine possible."
We worked together for hours, the morning sunlight creeping higher into the study, casting warm patterns across the floor. I stumbled over some words, miswrote letters, and corrected myself as he guided me. I felt tired, yes—but more alive than I had in days.
At one point, I hesitated over a line. "I… I don't understand this word," I admitted, feeling a flush of frustration.
He leaned closer, scanning the page. "Which one?"
"This one," I said, pointing. "F-o-r-e-s-t… but there's a word after that I don't know."
He traced the letters with his finger. "Ah. 'Clearing.' It means an open space in the forest. See? You already know the first part. The second part is just letters arranged differently. You're learning it—don't be afraid of what you don't know yet."
I nodded, exhaling slowly. "I… I understand."
"Good," he said. "Remember, Elara, learning is about patience. You cannot force knowledge, but you can open yourself to it. The rest will follow."
As the session ended, I felt a quiet satisfaction, a sense of progress. The prince looked at me, his eyes softening slightly. "Tomorrow, we continue. We'll read a bit more, and I'll introduce new words. You will see how much you already know. And do not worry—I will help you at every step."
"I… I'll try my best," I said, feeling a quiet flame of determination. I was still scared of the king, of the palace, of everything I didn't know—but I knew one thing clearly: I would not be stopped. I would learn.
He nodded, standing. "Good. That is all I expect—effort. Nothing more, nothing less."
I gathered my papers carefully, feeling the weight of my quill and books, but also a lighter weight in my chest. For the first time, the overwhelming fear that had followed me since my arrival felt slightly less oppressive. I had a path. I had a goal. And I would follow it, no matter the obstacles.
As I left the study room, I glanced back at him, seeing his sharp blue eyes softened for just a moment. I didn't know why he helped me, or what he truly thought of me—but I knew that for today, I had taken another step forward. And that was enough.