Elara’s POV
The capital looked peaceful that afternoon.
Sunlight spilled across the wide streets, catching on white stone and colored glass, turning the city into something almost gentle. Musicians played near the fountains. Merchants called out wares with practiced cheer. Children ran ahead of their parents, laughter echoing between buildings that had once echoed with screams.
Anyone watching from afar would have said the united kingdom was thriving.
I knew better.
“Stay close,” I told the girls as we stepped down from the carriage. “This isn’t a race.”
“It is if you’re slow,” Lise replied, already darting ahead, her dark braid bouncing against her back.
“Elise,” Elena snapped instantly, using her sister’s full name the way she always did when annoyed. “You’re behaving like a child.”
“I am a child,” Lise shot back over her shoulder. “That’s the point.”
I closed my eyes briefly.
Serena, walking beside me, hid a smile behind her hand. “At least they’re consistent,” she murmured.
This outing had been my idea. After the tension at the border town, after the way fear had settled into my bones, I needed to remind myself—and them—that we were still a family before we were rulers. Caden hadn’t been able to join us, of course. Another council meeting. Another military briefing. Another absence justified by necessity.
I told myself I understood.
“Elena, don’t scowl at your sister,” I said calmly. “People are watching.”
“That’s exactly why she should behave,” Elena replied stiffly. She walked with her shoulders back, chin lifted, already mimicking the posture of council leaders twice her age. “We represent the crown.”
Lise skidded to a stop and spun around. “I’m not a banner you can wave around!”
“You’re a princess!”
“And you’re not the queen yet!”
Heads turned.
The square seemed to hush slightly, curiosity sharpening into attention. A few people slowed their steps. A merchant pretended to rearrange fruit while clearly listening.
“Elena,” I warned.
“She needs to learn—”
“And you need to stop trying to rule everyone,” Lise snapped. “Not everyone wants a throne, you know!”
Elena’s face flushed. “Someone has to care about the future!”
“And someone has to care about people!”
That did it.
“Enough,” I said sharply.
Both girls froze.
My voice had carried. I felt the ripple immediately—eyes turning, whispers starting. I hated that it had come to this, hated that frustration had edged into my tone, but I refused to let them tear at each other in public like this.
“You are sisters,” I continued, lowering my voice but keeping its authority. “Not enemies. And you will not use this city as a stage for your arguments.”
Elena swallowed, eyes glistening with restrained emotion. Lise looked down, kicking at the stone.
“I’m sorry,” I said, softer now, to both of them. “But this ends here.”
A woman nearby murmured something approving. Another stared with thinly veiled judgment. I inclined my head politely toward them.
“My apologies for disturbing your peace,” I said clearly, meeting their gazes without flinching.
Serena stepped forward smoothly. “The Queen and Princesses will be returning to the palace.”
I turned, placing a hand on each of my daughters’ shoulders, guiding them away from the square. Behind us, the city resumed its rhythm, but I felt the weight of it pressing against my back.
“I just want to help,” Elena whispered as we walked.
“I know,” I said.
“I just want to live,” Lise muttered.
“I know,” I repeated.
That was the hardest part. Loving them meant holding space for both truths, even when they pulled in opposite directions.
The palace gates loomed ahead sooner than expected.
“I thought we’d stay longer,” Lise said quietly.
“So did I,” I admitted. “But today isn’t the day.”
Inside, the air felt cooler, heavier. Maids approached quickly, offering to escort the twins to their rooms.
“I’ll see you both later,” I said, crouching to their level. “We’ll talk. All right?”
Elena nodded solemnly. Lise hesitated, then hugged me tightly.
“I don’t hate her,” she whispered. “I just don’t want to be her.”
“I know,” I said into her hair.
When they were gone, Serena and I walked in silence for a moment.
“You handled that well,” she said finally.
“I snapped.”
“You’re human,” she replied. “And a mother.”
We reached the quieter wing near my chambers. Serena stopped, her expression shifting from light to careful.
“Elara,” she said. “There’s something you should know.”
My chest tightened. “What is it?”
She glanced down the corridor, then back at me. “There are whispers. Not just unrest. Organization.”
I stilled. “Explain.”
“Meetings held in secret. Symbols resurfacing. People speaking openly about separation again.” She lowered her voice. “About war.”
My mind flashed to the border town. To the hatred in their eyes. To the stone in that man’s hand.
“Do they have a leader?” I asked.
Serena hesitated.
“Not a name,” she said. “Yet. But whoever it is… they’re patient. And they’re prepared.”
The palace suddenly felt very, very large.
“Thank you for telling me,” I said.
She nodded. “We’ll face it. Together.”
I watched the corridor where my daughters had disappeared. The crown on my head felt heavier than ever. And I knew, with chilling certainty, that the peace we had built was already cracking from within. Or was there ever peace to begin with?