Elara's pov
"And I'm your guard!" he shot back. "My job is to keep you alive! Do you have any idea what you're suggesting? Do you understand how dangerous this is?"
"Yes," I said. "I understand perfectly. But I'm doing it anyway."
"Why?" He took a step closer, his eyes blazing. "Why risk everything? Why throw away your safety, your crown, your life, for a few conversations with farmers?"
"Because it's the right thing to do!" I shouted. "Because I can't rule a kingdom I don't understand! Because sitting in that palace making decisions based on lies is exactly what destroyed my father! I won't do it, Kaelen! I won't be that kind of queen!"
"So you'll be the kind of queen who gets herself killed instead?" he demanded. "That's better?"
"At least I'll die knowing the truth!" I said.
"You'll die!" he repeated. "Do you hear yourself? You're talking about dying like it's some noble sacrifice! But what about the kingdom? What happens to Dravara when their queen disappears? When Malakor takes control? When everything falls apart?"
"Then maybe someone better will take my place!" The words came out before I could stop them. "Maybe someone who actually knows what they're doing! Someone who isn't just a scared eighteen-year-old girl pretending to be strong!"
Silence.
Kaelen stared at me. His anger faded, replaced by something softer. Sadder.
"Is that what you think?" he asked quietly. "That you're not good enough?"
I looked away. "I don't know what I think anymore."
He was quiet for a long moment. Then he sighed. "You're not going alone."
I looked back at him. "What?"
"I said you're not going alone," he repeated. "If you're going to do this insane, reckless, idiotic thing, then I'm coming with you."
"Kaelen, no—"
"It's not a request," he said firmly. "It's not a suggestion. If you leave this palace without me, I will follow you. I will track you. And I will drag you back here by force if I have to. Do you understand?"
I stared at him. "You can't just—"
"I can," he said. "And I will. So your choices are simple. Either you stay here, safe, where you belong. Or you let me come with you to make sure you don't get yourself killed."
"But if you come, you'll be leaving your post," I said. "You'll be abandoning your duty—"
"My duty is to protect you," he interrupted. "Wherever you are. Even if it's in some gods-forsaken village in the middle of nowhere."
We stood there, facing each other. The air between us felt charged again. Electric.
"This is a bad idea," I said quietly.
"The worst," he agreed.
"We could both die."
"Probably."
"Malakor will use our absence against us."
"Almost certainly."
"Then why are you agreeing to this?" I asked.
He took a step closer. Close enough that I could see the gold flecks in his green eyes. "Because you're right."
I blinked. "What?"
"You're right," he repeated. "About needing to see the truth. About not trusting Malakor's lies. About wanting to be a better queen than your father was a king. You're right about all of it."
"But you just said—"
"I said it was dangerous," he cut me off. "And it is. But that doesn't make it wrong. Sometimes the right thing is also the dangerous thing."
His eyes held mine. I couldn't look away.
"We'll need disguises," he said. "Simple clothes. Nothing that marks us as palace people. We'll need supplies. Food. Water. Coin. And we'll need a story. Something believable."
"You're really going to help me do this?" I whispered.
"I'm really going to make sure you don't die doing this," he corrected. "There's a difference."
"Thank you," I said.
"Don't thank me yet," he said. "We still have to survive it."
He started to turn away. To leave. To go back to his post outside my door.
But something stopped him.
He turned back. Looked at me with an expression I couldn't read.
"What?" I asked, uneasy.
"I will apologise after this—"
I didn't get to ask what he meant before he suddenly moved forward and immediately I felt his lips on mine.
The world stopped.
His hand slid to the back of my head, firm and possessive, fingers threading into my hair as if he already knew I wouldn't pull away.
His other arm wrapped around my waist, drawing me into him without hesitation.
The kiss wasn't gentle. It was controlled, heated, restrained for far too long, like something he'd denied himself until denial was no longer possible.
I froze for a single, stunned second.
Then I kissed him back.
My hands found his chest, solid beneath my palms, then his shoulders, then the back of his neck. I pulled him closer, closing the distance he'd already claimed.
A low sound escaped him, rough and involuntary. His grip tightened. The kiss deepened, not rushed, but certain.
This was wrong. So wrong.
He was my guard. I was his queen. This line should never have been crossed.
But neither of us stopped.
When we finally broke apart, we were both breathing hard. His forehead rested against mine. His eyes were closed, jaw tight, as though he were fighting himself.
"I'm sorry," he murmured. "I shouldn't have"
"So this is what you meant by apologising after" I said quickly. "I don't need it."
He opened his eyes.
They locked onto mine, intense, searching, unguarded in a way I had never seen before.
"Your Majesty–"
"Just… don't," I said again, softer this time.
For a long moment, neither of us moved. The air between us felt fragile, electric, as though one wrong word would shatter what little control remained.
Then he stepped back.
The distance was deliberate. Painfully so.
"We leave at night," he said. His voice was rough, carefully steady. " When the palace is quiet. I'll have everything ready."
"Okay," I whispered.
He bowed formally, the motion precise. Controlled. The guard once more.
"Good night, Your Majesty."
He left. The door closed behind him.
I stood there, stunned, breath unsteady, heart racing.
My fingers rose to my lips. They still tingled where his mouth had been. My body felt warm, awake, alive in a way it hadn't since that night at the tavern.
The plan was set. Tomorrow night, we would leave. We would go to the hinterlands. We would search for truth in a kingdom built on lies.
But somewhere between duty and desire, the balance of my reign had tilted, dangerously, irrevocably.
And I wasn't sure I wanted it restored.