The night had grown thin, hovering between darkness and dawn.
Only two candles remained lit within Princess Elara's chamber, their flames trembling as though weary from standing guard too long. Shadows clung to the stone walls, stretching across silk drapes and gilded furniture like restless spirits.
Elara stirred.
She sat upright suddenly, breath uneven, her chest rising as though she had run through fire rather than slept. The room was quiet , too quiet , save for the distant hush of wind beyond the palace walls.
She pressed a hand to her temple.
The moon.
Drawn by it, she rose from her bed and stepped onto the balcony. Moonlight bathed the palace grounds below, silvering the rooftops and courtyards. A cool breeze brushed against her skin, gentle, almost consoling.
A soft, humorless smile touched her lips.
How strange it was , that only hours ago she had been drunk on despair, standing at the edge of her own thoughts, imagining release where none should be sought.
She inhaled deeply.
Then, unbidden, Kael's face surfaced in her mind.
Her smile faded.
Turning back inside, Elara moved quietly, barefoot against the marble floor. She approached the chamber door and opened it just enough to peer beyond.
There , seated against the stone wall , was Kael.
His back rested against the corridor, head tilted slightly to one side, eyes closed. His sword lay within reach, yet his posture was unguarded, as though even sleep trusted him.
He was meant to be vigilant.
Instead, he looked… peaceful.
Elara stepped closer without realizing she had moved at all.
She knelt slowly before him, studying his face, the sharp line of his jaw, the faint scar near his brow, the steady rise of his chest. He did not stir.
Her gaze betrayed her then.
It lingered, briefly, treacherously, upon his lips.
She caught herself and drew back sharply, breath quickening.
This is foolish.
As she straightened, his eyes opened.
Dark. Alert. Awake.
Elara gasped and stumbled backward, her heel catching against the stone. She would have fallen, but strong arms caught her before she could.
Kael's grip was firm, instinctive.
The world seemed to still.
She could hear her heartbeat, loud, unruly, echoing in her ears. His presence surrounded her: warmth, steel, restraint barely held.
Their eyes met.
For a heartbeat too long.
"Ser… Ser Kael," she stammered.
His gaze did not soften.
Instead, he leaned closer , just enough for his voice to brush her ear.
"You seem," he murmured, "more radiant than ever tonight."
Her breath caught.
Darkness surged.
,
Elara awoke with a sharp inhale.
She was in her bed.
Canopy above. Silk sheets beneath her fingers. Dawn's faint light spilling through the curtains.
She stared upward, stunned.
A shaky laugh escaped her.
"A dream," she whispered. "It was only a dream."
She sat up, running a hand through her hair.
"Impossible," she muttered. "I did not just dream of him."
Her cheeks burned.
"Just a dream," she repeated, as though saying it enough times might banish the memory.
The chamber door opened.
"Good morning, my lady."
Maera stepped inside, closing the door behind her. She paused when she saw Elara sitting rigidly on the bed, eyes unfocused.
"Are you well?" Maera asked. "You seem… unsettled."
Elara stood abruptly.
"Unsettled?" she scoffed. "I am perfectly composed."
Maera raised a brow.
"Your Highness," she said gently, "you are blushing."
"I am not," Elara snapped, then stopped herself. "And even if I were, princesses do not blush without cause."
Maera smiled knowingly.
"Of course," she said. "Shall I prepare your bath?"
Elara waved her off too quickly.
"Yes. That would be… acceptable."
Maera turned toward the adjoining bathing chamber, the washroom, as it was called, her smile widening as she left.
Alone again, Elara pressed her lips together, trying to steady her thoughts.
Foolish, she scolded herself.
Yet her heart refused to listen.
West of Dravenhold - Duke AlaricDuke Alaric of Ravenshade stood near the tall windows of his solar, hands clasped behind his back as dawn crept across the stone city below.
His butler entered quietly.
"My lord," the man said. "Word from the palace."
Alaric turned at once.
"The princess," the butler continued, "has expressed interest in scheduling meetings with the eligible suitors."
A slow smile formed.
"So," Alaric murmured, "the game begins."
The butler hesitated. "There is more. As you requested… I have looked into the palace knight named Kael."
Alaric's expression sharpened.
"And?"
"His records are… sparse," the butler admitted. "No noble lineage recorded. Yet he was recognized for exceptional service along the western border, under the authority of Lord Aurelion the princess's uncle. That commendation secured his placement within the palace."
Alaric's fingers curled slightly.
"A man with no past," he said. "And a position too close to the crown."
"We are still investigating," the butler added. "I will inform you if more surfaces."
Alaric nodded once.
"Do so," he said quietly. "Men like that rarely remain shadows forever."
As the butler departed, Alaric returned to the window.
"Princess Elara," he murmured. "Let us see which pieces you choose… and which ones choose you."