Selene's POV
The castle corridors felt colder these days.
Perhaps it was not the marble, nor the draft that slipped through ancient stone walls, but the weight of absence, the silence left behind by my brother, Damien. Everywhere I turned, there was an echo of his laughter, his voice, his steps. But the echo was fading. And with it, I felt as though pieces of myself were slipping away.
I was tired. Tired of the whispers that clawed at the corners of the court halls. The prince is dead… he will never rise again… the throne is doomed… Rumors spread like wildfire, cruel and relentless, and though Duchess Elara tried her best to shield me from them, I could still hear. Servants whispering in kitchens, nobles muttering behind closed doors.
Some even dared look at me with pity.
Elara, however, had been a pillar of strength. She was no blood kin, yet more of a mother than the one I had been given by birth. She had taken the burden of governance upon her shoulders, speaking with the council, steadying the chaos while I struggled to breathe. Her voice commanded respect, her presence silenced doubters. She carried herself like the queen we had never had.
Tonight, as I sat by the window, the weight of everything pressing down on my chest, the door creaked open.
"Selene," a deep voice rumbled, soft with concern.
I looked up to see Kael. My brother's most loyal guard. My friend. My anchor. His dark hair fell into his eyes, his armor polished but worn, as though he had been patrolling without rest.
"Kael," I whispered, forcing a smile. "You're late."
He closed the door gently behind him and leaned against it. "The council kept Duchess Elara longer than usual. There are… tensions."
"There always are," I murmured.
His eyes softened as he walked toward me, kneeling by the chair I sat in. "And how are you?"
It was such a simple question. Yet it nearly broke me. How was I supposed to answer that? My brother lay unconscious, half the kingdom believed him dead, and I could barely summon the strength to keep myself from screaming every night.
Instead, I said, "I'm… managing."
Kael tilted his head, searching my face as though reading the truth I tried to bury. He had always been like this. Ever since I was younger, he had watched over me with quiet devotion. Not because he had to. Not because my brother commanded it. But because he wanted to.
"You don't have to pretend with me," he said gently.
A lump formed in my throat. I looked away, blinking back tears. "If I let myself fall apart, Kael, then what's left? Damien would want me to stay strong."
He placed his hand over mine, calloused and warm. "Strength doesn't mean silence. It doesn't mean you can't grieve."
I inhaled shakily. "You always know what to say."
"That's because I've been watching you far longer than you realize." His lips tugged into a faint smile, but there was sorrow behind it. "I've seen how you hide your pain. I've seen how you carry burdens that were never meant to be yours. You don't have to carry them alone anymore."
For a moment, I didn't speak. His words wrapped around me like a balm, and I realized just how much he had been there, always in the background, always watching, always making sure I didn't fall.
"Kael…" My voice cracked, but before I could say more, the heavy footsteps of Duchess Elara echoed from the hall. The door opened, and she entered, her emerald gown sweeping the floor, her sharp eyes scanning us both.
"Good," she said briskly, though her gaze softened when it landed on me. "You are not alone."
She walked closer, placing a hand on my shoulder. "Selene, the council grows restless, but I will handle them. Do not trouble yourself with their whispers. Damien's name still carries weight, and as long as I breathe, his legacy will not be erased."
I swallowed the ache in my chest and nodded. "Thank you, Elara. I don't know what I would do without you."
"You are stronger than you believe, child," she said. "But for now, let me carry the weight."
The days bled into weeks. Every evening, I stole away to Damien's chamber, where he lay pale and still, as though the world itself held its breath waiting for him to rise. The physician came in secret, hands trembling as he checked the pulse, the slow rise of Damien's chest. Each time, he would shake his head, mutter prayers under his breath, and leave with more herbs than hope.
But I never gave up. I held Damien's hand, whispered stories into his ear, told him of the world outside that still needed him.
Sometimes, I swore his fingers twitched. Sometimes, I thought I saw his lips part, as though trying to speak. But then silence would return, cruel and suffocating.
Kael often accompanied me. He stood guard near the door, but his presence was more than protection. It was comfort. When the silence became unbearable, he would speak.
"Do you remember the night Damien snuck us out of the castle?" he asked once, his tone lighter, almost nostalgic.
I glanced up from Damien's still form. "When we ended up knee-deep in the river?"
Kael chuckled softly. "Yes. You were furious. Your gown was ruined, and you kept shouting at Damien for dragging you into it."
I smiled faintly, the memory warming my chest. "And you? You were laughing so hard you almost drowned."
He smirked. "I'd do it all again if it meant hearing you laugh like that."
My heart skipped, but I said nothing. Instead, I looked down at Damien, brushing a lock of hair from his forehead.
"Come back to us, brother," I whispered.
And then, one cozy evening, everything changed.
The physician came as usual, his hands shaking as he pressed against Damien's chest. His eyes widened. He leaned closer, his ear against Damien's heart. Then he straightened, his voice trembling.
"His pulse… it's stronger."
I froze. "What?"
The physician looked at me, tears brimming in his eyes. "His heart, it's steadying. He's recovering."
For a heartbeat, the world stopped. I couldn't breathe. Then I gasped, covering my mouth with my hands as tears spilled down my cheeks.
Kael moved closer, his expression stunned before it melted into pure relief. He grabbed my hand, squeezing it tightly.
"He's coming back," he whispered.
I sobbed, pressing my forehead to Damien's hand. "Thank the gods… thank the gods…"
The physician nodded, though he looked as though he barely believed it himself. "It will take time, but this… this is a miracle."
I stumbled from the chamber, my legs weak, but my heart soaring. Elara needed to know. She deserved to know.
I found her in the council room, standing tall as nobles bickered among themselves. I waited for them to finish before pulling her aside.
"Elara!" I cried, breathless. "He's recovering! Damien, his heart is steady again!"
The room fell silent. Elara's eyes widened, her mask of composure shattering. For the first time since this nightmare began, she looked… human. Her lips trembled, her hand gripping the table as if to steady herself.
"Are you certain?" she whispered.
I nodded, tears streaming down my face. "Yes. The physician said so. He's going to live."
And in that moment, the cold halls of the castle felt warm again.