The sound of footsteps echoed through the marble corridors of the palace. Queen Elizabeth was rushing forward with frantic steps, nearly dragging her young daughter Alessandra behind her, while Mary followed in panic.
Alessandra gasped for breath, her voice trembling:
— Mother… you're hurting my hand!
But Elizabeth didn't stop. She only quickened her pace, as though fleeing a phantom or chasing a mirage.
— My Queen, please! — Mary cried out in fear as she struggled to keep up. — You need rest, don't push yourself any further!
Elizabeth halted abruptly, whirling around toward Mary with wild, desperate eyes. She shouted, releasing what had been clawing at her heart:
— Mary, you don't understand… the danger we've always feared is happening now!
A stunned silence followed. Fear flickered in Mary's eyes, but Elizabeth pressed on, racing toward the council chamber. At the grand doors, rows of grim-faced guards stood on watch.
— Just what I needed! — she muttered bitterly, striding forward.
The guards bowed low, but one dared to speak:
— My Queen, the king is in an important meeting—
Her voice lashed out like thunder:
— I said, open the door!
None dared defy her. The heavy doors swung wide, revealing the scene within: King Fenrick at the head of the table, surrounded by his allied rulers—Eriker, lord of the Fire Kingdom; Hrdvar, sovereign of Ice; Ira, the wise queen of Healing… and beside them, like a lingering shadow, stood Smarth.
Every gaze froze upon the queen who had stormed in, shock written across their faces.
— Fenrick, I must speak with you. Now! — her voice trembled between fear and pleading.
Anger began to etch itself onto the king's features, but the terror in her eyes made him rise slowly. With curt words, he dismissed the council. The lords departed, leaving the king seething as Elizabeth followed, clutching Alessandra's hand tightly.
Once inside his chamber, the door slammed shut with a thunderous crack. The king's voice exploded:
— What in damnation have you just done?!
— They've reached Alessandra! — she cried, her voice breaking.
The king spun toward his daughter, staring as if the ground had collapsed beneath him.
— What do you mean?
— She saw them, with her own eyes! How could they enter the castle, her chamber, while you hold the Wolf Fang? How could they reach her… when the Fang is here?!
Fenrick's jaw clenched, sweat glistening at his brow. His gaze lingered on his golden-haired child, her innocent eyes wide at only nine years old. Then, with biting words:
— And what would you have me do?
Elizabeth stepped closer, desperation cracking her voice:
— Do something! You are her father!
His voice trembled, as though exhuming a buried truth:
— Her father? Who ever said she was mine?
Shock swept across Alessandra's face. Elizabeth, ablaze with fury and grief, struck him hard across the cheek. Tears shone in her eyes as she shouted:
— Speak with respect! She is your daughter, and her protection is your duty!
Fenrick lowered his gaze, eyes burning with suppressed rage.
— I have just forged an alliance with the other kingdoms to crush your people—your family among them, you treacherous fae!
Elizabeth staggered back a step, her gaze torn between anguish and loathing. She had loved him once, despite being forced into marriage, despite being stolen from her kin, despite living in exile for the sake of the man who held the Wolf Fang. She had given him loyalty and her heart… but she had never expected this betrayal.
She threw the door open, her blood aflame with fury, only to find Smarth waiting outside.
He approached slowly, his voice calm as ever, though something unreadable glimmered in his eyes:
— My Queen… you seem weary. Are you unwell?
Elizabeth lifted her head toward him, and for a moment the wounds of the past bled anew. Yes… Smarth. Her first love.
_________________________________________________________________________
The sun filtered through the branches of the forest, casting golden streaks across the damp earth. Upon the trunk of an old tree sat Elizabeth, a girl of fifteen, her golden hair shimmering with the forest breeze, her blue eyes glimmering like the sea beneath the morning light. Her skin was pure and pale, soft as cotton, and her rosy cheeks deepened in color each time she laughed.
She laughed shyly, trying to hide her fluster:
— What are you saying! Marry you?
Her laughter rang again, innocent and free, while before her stood Smarth, a seventeen-year-old youth. His sun-kissed skin gave his beauty a strength and gravity, his hazel eyes warm and unyielding, his light-brown hair glowing beneath the sunlight. He smiled, his voice steady:
— Why not? Can't humans marry the fae?
Elizabeth hopped lightly down from the trunk, seating herself beside him, her golden locks cascading over her shoulders like threads of light. She tilted her head toward him with playful mischief:
— Do you wish to break the laws of nature, you bold one?
Smarth laughed, meeting her gaze with unwavering eyes:
— For you… yes. I would do anything.
Elizabeth fell silent. Her sea-blue eyes widened as she stared at him, then drifted downward, her cheeks burning red with shame. Smarth leaned closer, his voice softened with warmth:
— Elizabeth… I love you.
Her breath caught as she lifted her eyes to him, only to meet a look of pure sincerity she had never seen before. He continued, his voice filled with conviction:
— I swear, I will build a kingdom where humans and fae stand united. A strong kingdom, where we live in peace. I will not let anyone live in fear or poverty again.
Her voice trembled, barely a whisper:
— Smarth… I…
He interrupted gently, his plea heartfelt:
— Trust me. Just trust me.
Elizabeth lowered her gaze, her hands trembling as she clasped them together:
— But how? My people are far too strong. They would never ally with humans. They despise you. I cannot build hopes only to betray them in the end!
Smarth's lips curled into a confident smile:
— I've found something… I read of it in the old texts. It's called the Wolf Fang.
He had always been drawn to books and ancient secrets, a seeker of herbs, remedies, and lore of kingdoms. His voice quickened with excitement:
— I read that the Wolf Fang lies hidden in the mountains. The fae fear it, obey it. Whoever carries it commands their will.
Elizabeth gasped, her voice sharp:
— Do you mean for me to betray my people, Smarth?!
He shook his head quickly, his tone urgent as he leaned closer:
— Never. I would never ask that of you. But with it, they will respect me as king. And then… we can unite them.
Elizabeth's fingers twisted nervously, her voice soft, doubtful:
— Where did you read of such a thing? And where will you find it? And who says it's even real?
Smarth chuckled lightly, his smile tender:
— I don't know everything… but I will try. I'll do the impossible if it means being with you. I will not let another take you away from me.
Her cheeks flamed brighter, her words lost to silence. Then, suddenly, Smarth leaned in, pressed a swift kiss against her cheek, and dashed into the trees, laughing.
Elizabeth gasped, covering her face with her hands, her heart pounding violently in her chest. Her entire being flushed with a shyness so overwhelming, it felt as though—for the very first time—she had tasted the sweetness of destiny.
________________________________________________________________________
Here's your passage translated into English in a novelistic style, keeping the emotions, imagery, and flow:
Twenty-four hours before the fateful day.
On a clear morning, a soft yawn drifted from the chamber of the young princess. Alessandra opened her hazel eyes and gazed from her bed toward the window, where the sky stretched calm and endless like a sea of blue. She reached for the curtain, drew it aside slowly, and sighed a quiet breath of longing. How she wished she could live beyond the palace walls, to run freely through the meadows, to taste the sweetness of freedom.
But the sight of the garden below pulled her from her thoughts. There, beneath the palace trees, sat her uncle Smarth with his son Lav, speaking earnestly with King Fenrik. Smarth seemed weighed down by worry, and when he noticed Alessandra watching from her window, he smiled and raised his hand to her. She blushed and waved back, and did the same when Lav lifted his hand as well. For a fleeting moment, a smile touched her lips before she closed the window and whispered to herself:
— Perhaps… Uncle Smarth and his son aren't so bad after all. Maybe I'll go play with them.
The door swung open suddenly, and Mary entered, accompanied by maids pushing a cart laden with food.
— Good morning, my princess, are you awake?
Alessandra smiled.
— Good morning, Mary. I want to change my clothes and go play with Uncle and Lav.
Mary shook her head gently.
— Of course, but first you must finish your breakfast and your lessons.
Alessandra approached the cart, raising her brows in surprise.
— What's all this?
Mary chuckled lightly.
— Ah, I nearly forgot to tell you. Lav brought food from the kingdoms they visited. He said he wanted you to taste it yourself: cakes, stuffed pastries, strange teas… What would you like to try first?
Alessandra's cheeks flushed pink and she whispered shyly:
— How kind of him… I'll change first, then we'll try it with Harry.
Mary's face lit up.
— As you wish, my princess. I'll let him know.
Soon after, Alessandra stepped out of her bath in a green gown scattered with jewels. She placed diamond earrings on her ears and smiled at her reflection.
— I'm ready.
Mary moved closer with a brush in hand.
— Allow me to fix your hair, princess.
But Alessandra turned her face aside bashfully.
— No… Harry will do it.
Mary grinned with playful mischief.
— Ah… your personal hairdresser.
Alessandra's cheeks burned.
— What? Did he tell you that too?
Mary laughed.
— He never stops talking about you, and he always says he'll become your royal guard one day.
Before Alessandra could answer, the door burst open and Harry rushed in.
— Alessandra!
She leapt toward him and hugged him tightly.
— Harry! I missed you so much.
Mary clapped her hands together in delight.
— Why don't we take this to the garden? We'll have the food there.
Alessandra agreed eagerly, and soon enough, the two of them sat together tasting the exotic dishes. Harry devoured the cakes with wide-eyed wonder.
— By the gods! This is delicious… I've never tasted anything like it!
Alessandra laughed.
— What? You've never had cake before?
He stumbled over his words, trying to cover his lie.
— I mean… once, at a shop nearby.
She arched her brow with teasing mischief.
— I know everything, Harry. Stop lying.
He gasped, his mouth still full of crumbs.
— What?!
She replied confidently:
— My mother told me.
From there, she began to share with him her recent dreams: the shadow who claimed to be her people's children, and King Fenrik's doubts about her bloodline. She did not mention, however, that her mother was fae.
Harry listened with intensity, his jaw tightening, muttering under his breath with quiet anger:
— The bastard…
Alessandra's head shot up.
— What did you say?
— Nothing… but this means… you're a fae now?
She smiled bitterly.
— Half fae, half human. I suppose.
He whispered so softly it was almost lost in the breeze:
— Fae and wolf… that's fine.
Her eyes narrowed in curiosity.
— What do you mean by that?
He shook his head quickly.
— Nothing.
Suddenly, another voice broke the moment.
— Good morning, Princess.
Lav approached, smiling with a confidence that bordered on arrogance. Alessandra lifted her gaze toward him.
— Lav, welcome! Thank you for the food—it's wonderful.
But his eyes quickly shifted to Harry's ragged clothes. His tone dripped with disdain.
— Is this the servant?
Alessandra shot back quickly:
— He is my friend. Harry, this is my cousin Lav.
Harry extended his dirty hand awkwardly with a smile.
— Hello.
Lav looked at it with disgust, then said coldly:
— No need, thank you.
Alessandra's face flushed with anger.
— That was rude, Lav! Come on, Harry, let's go to the library to finish our lesson.
Lav leaned close to her, whispering so only she could hear:
— Fine, I apologize… but really, is it worthy of us to befriend people like that?
Alessandra froze, then turned to him with a piercing glare.
— I don't belong to you.
Lav's eyes widened.
— What do you mean?
Her voice was sharp, resolute.
— I am fae. I am not of your kind, not you, not your father.
Then she offered him a cold, polite smile.
— Thank you for the food.
With that, she walked away with Harry toward the library, leaving her cousin standing alone in the garden, unsettled by the sting of her words.