Elara’s POV
The palace had a way of reminding you that you were never truly welcome.
It began with silence that was too deliberate. When I entered a room, conversations didn’t stop in surprise, they stopped in choice.
At breakfast, a lady in pearls smiled at me and said, “Your hair is very… rustic.”
The table laughed.
Another woman whispered, “Do you think they washed her before the vows?”
I kept chewing, kept breathing, kept my back straight, the way Vivian taught me at our small kitchen table when I was a child and spilled soup on my dress.
“You do not shrink,” she would say, dabbing my chin. “Even when they want you to.”
So I didn’t.
But I felt every word anyway. When I passed the gallery after lessons, the whispers followed like a shadow.
“Village blood always shows.”
“She’ll trip over her own hem at council.”
“The Prince will tire of her.”
I looked ahead and forced my feet to move with grace. Serena’s lessons echoed in my mind: slow, measured, unbothered. Nobles stared, hungry for proof I would crack.
Across the hall, Caden stood among advisors in dark uniforms. His posture was rigid, his face carved into ice. He heard the whispers. I saw the tightening at his jaw. He heard.
He did nothing.
I waited, stupidly, for his eyes to meet mine and give me a sign—anything.
But he stared past the nobles. Past me.
The disappointment was immediate and childish, and it made me angry at myself. I told myself it was better. His defense would only feed their cruelty. Or perhaps he simply didn’t care. The thought burned.
I turned away before my eyes betrayed me.
“Come,” Serena said, appearing at my side.
She guided me toward the doors, away from polished cruelty and into the city’s living noise. Outside the gates, the air smelled of bread and smoke and horses. The streets were crowded and loud, and for the first time all day, my lungs opened.
A vendor called, “Fresh apples!” and a child darted past chasing a wooden hoop. No one bowed. A few stared because my dress was fine and a guard followed at distance, but the stares weren’t hunting.
Serena scanned the crowd. “You did well,” she said quietly.
“I wanted to throw a cup at someone’s head,” I admitted.
Her mouth curved. “That’s still doing well. You’re learning restraint.”
“I never wanted restraint,” I muttered.
We reached a small square where a fountain murmured and musicians played a slow tune. I sat on the stone rim, watching the water.
“Does it ever stop,” I asked, “the feeling that you’re being watched?”
“Not entirely,” Serena said. “You just get better at choosing which eyes matter.”
Before I could stop myself, I asked, “Whose eyes matter?”
Her gaze flicked toward the palace in the distance. “The ones that can change your fate,” she said. Then, softer, “And the ones you want to keep.”
My throat tightened. I didn’t reply.
A man approached Serena and murmured something urgent. She listened, then nodded. “I need to handle something. Stay here. I’ll be back soon.”
“I’m not a child.”
“I know,” Serena replied. “That’s why I’m asking you like an adult. Stay where I can find you.”
She disappeared into the crowd.
I watched the fountain, trying to untangle the knot in my chest. Dani’s worried eyes lingered in my memory. Vivian’s voice. Caden’s cold face. Arinelle’s smile like a sharpened spoon.
“Elara.”
The voice was calm. Familiar in a way that made my skin prickle.
I turned.
Father Alastor stood a few steps away, hands folded, robe simple, eyes bright with an unsettling kind of knowing.
“You again,” I said.
He smiled. “I’ve been around.”
“That’s what frightens me,” I replied.
“Fear is not always your enemy,” he said.
I kept a polite distance. “Why do you keep appearing when I’m alone?”
“Perhaps you’re easier to speak to when the palace isn’t listening,” he said.
“The palace is always listening,” I muttered.
His gaze dipped to my necklace, and something like sadness moved through his eyes.
“You knew her,” I said quickly. “Vivian.”
“She was a good woman,” he said simply.
“Then answer me,” I pressed. “How did you know her? How do you know my dad?”
Alastor’s smile softened. “Some memories arrive disguised,” he said. “And some truths are too heavy for a young girl to carry.”
“I’m not a young girl anymore.”
“You are,” he replied quietly, “when it comes to certain kinds of pain.”
I clenched my hands. “Tell me one thing. Just one.”
He studied me. “You are not where you are by accident,” he said at last.
My eyes stung. “That still isn’t an answer.”
“It’s the only one I can give you today,” he said. “More would change the path ahead.”
“And if I refuse?”
His smile returned, faint and sad. “Then life will refuse on your behalf.”
He stepped back. “Be kind to yourself, Princess,” he said. “And be careful with your heart. It is brave. Bravery attracts wolves.”
Then he turned and slipped into the crowd, gone.
Serena returned minutes later, breathless, carrying a wrapped bundle. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I was delayed.”
“I’m still here.”
“I brought you something,” she said, pressing it into my hands. “For tonight. For you.”
Inside was a dress, deep blue with silver stitching like scattered stars.
“It’s beautiful,” I whispered.
Serena’s voice gentled. “So are you.”
My throat tightened. I hugged her before I could think, and she hugged me back, firm and steady.
That night, back in the palace, I wore the dress.
When I reached the hall near the windows, I saw him.
Caden stood alone, staring into the darkness outside, hands clasped behind his back. Torchlight carved his profile into something severe and beautiful. He didn’t turn when I approached, but I knew he sensed me.
I stopped a few steps away, my heart suddenly too loud. All the words I wanted to say crowded my mouth, but the only sentence that escaped was the one I didn’t plan.
“Do you hate me?”
The question hung between us, fragile as glass.
And I realized, in the quiet after it, that I was no longer afraid of the palace, of Arinelle, of Kaela, of nobles.
I was afraid of his answer.