Elara’s POV
The capital smelled of baked bread and crushed apples that morning, the air thick with spice and smoke and the kind of laughter that always surprised me in times like these. Market day had come anyway, as it always did, stubborn and bright, as if the city itself refused to bow entirely to fear.
I held Lise’s hand in one palm and Elena’s in the other as we walked through the crowd, guards flanking us at a careful distance.
Caden walked at my side, close enough that our shoulders brushed now and then. He had insisted on coming, despite my protests, despite the council’s warnings. I understood why. He needed to see the people smiling, needed to remember what all of this was for.
Lise tugged my hand excitedly. “Mother, look,” she said, pointing toward a stall draped in ribbons. “They’re selling flowers shaped like birds.”
Elena rolled her eyes. “They’re impractical,” she said. “They’ll wilt by evening.”
“That doesn’t mean they’re useless,” Lise shot back. “Not everything needs to last forever to matter.”
I felt Caden’s mouth twitch, though he said nothing.
“Enough,” I said gently, though there was a tired edge to my voice. “Both of you. Enjoy the day.”
Lise beamed and pulled me toward the stall, already negotiating with the vendor as if she had been born to charm the world. Elena lingered, eyes sharp, scanning the crowd with a seriousness that still caught me off guard sometimes. Ten years old, and already she watched people the way a ruler did.
“You don’t have to be on guard every moment,” I told her softly.
“I do,” she replied. “That’s how you stay alive.”
The words cut deeper than she knew.
We moved through the market slowly, stopping here and there as the girls tasted fruit or admired trinkets. People bowed when they recognized us, some with genuine warmth, others with stiff obligation. I felt the weight of their eyes constantly, measuring, judging, hoping or resenting in equal measure.
Caden leaned close. “You’re tense,” he murmured.
“I know,” I replied. “I keep waiting for something to go wrong.”
He squeezed my hand briefly. “Nothing will,” he said, though his voice lacked complete certainty.
For a moment, I let myself believe him.
A musician began to play near the fountain, a lively tune that drew laughter and applause. Lise spun in place, skirts fluttering, while Elena watched with an expression torn between disapproval and envy.
“You could join her,” I suggested.
“I don’t dance,” Elena said.
“You danced at Serena’s birthday,” Lise countered.
“That was different.”
I smiled despite myself.
It happened in seconds.
I heard the whistle first—sharp, wrong, cutting through the music like a blade. Instinct screamed before my mind caught up. I twisted, pulling the girls toward me as something tore through the air where my head had been a heartbeat earlier.
Steel rang against stone.
A crossbow bolt embedded itself in the fountain’s edge.
Gasps erupted. Screams followed.
“Down!” Caden shouted, moving instantly, his body between us and the crowd.
I didn’t think. I reacted.
Another bolt flew. I caught the glint of metal, the angle, the intent. My body moved the way it had been trained to move years ago, the lessons Dani had drilled into my bones never truly gone. I shoved Lise and Elena behind a vendor’s stall and turned, grabbing a fallen basket lid as the bolt struck it hard enough to jolt my arm.
Pain flared up my shoulder, sharp and burning, but I held.
Guards surged forward, chaos exploding around us. People scattered, stalls overturned, the music dying in a single discordant note.
“There!” someone shouted.
I saw the attacker then—hooded, already retreating, blending into the panic. Without thinking, I chased.
“Elara!” Caden yelled behind me.
I vaulted over a toppled crate, boots hitting stone hard, breath tearing from my lungs. The attacker stumbled, and in that moment of imbalance I closed the distance, sweeping his legs out from under him the way I’d been taught. He hit the ground with a grunt, crossbow skidding away.
I stood over him, heart hammering, my hand shaking as I pressed my foot to his chest to keep him down.
“Don’t,” I said, my voice low and furious. “Move.”
Guards arrived seconds later, weapons raised, hauling him away as he struggled and cursed.
Only then did my body register the pain. My shoulder throbbed violently, my arm trembling from the impact. I staggered, suddenly dizzy.
Caden was there instantly, hands gripping my arms. “Are you hurt?”
“I don’t think so,” I said, though the words felt unsteady. “The girls—”
“They’re safe,” he said quickly. “They’re right there.”
I turned.
Lise stood frozen, face pale, eyes wide with terror. Elena stood beside her, equally shaken—but her gaze was fixed on me, something fierce and thoughtful burning there.
The crowd murmured, fear rippling outward. Guards formed a tight ring around us as the attacker was dragged away. I felt the weight of every witness, every whisper already taking shape.
“The Queen fought,” someone said in awe.
“The Queen was attacked,” another murmured.
Caden guided me toward the girls, pulling them into his arms along with me. Lise buried her face in my skirts, shaking. Elena didn’t cry. She watched me instead, studying every movement, every breath.
We were ushered away quickly, the market dissolving behind us into noise and confusion. Only when we reached the safety of a guarded carriage did my legs finally give a little, my strength ebbing as the shock set in.
Caden knelt in front of me, inspecting my shoulder carefully. “You’re bleeding,” he said quietly.
“It’s nothing,” I replied.
“It’s not nothing,” he said firmly, though relief flickered in his eyes. “You could have been killed.”
“I wasn’t,” I said. “And neither were they.”
His jaw tightened. “That doesn’t make it acceptable.”
I knew that look. The one that said he was furious with the world—and with himself.
Lise finally lifted her head, eyes red. “Mother,” she whispered, “I was so scared.”
I gathered her close. “I know, my love. I know.”
Elena stepped forward then, her small hands clenched. She looked at Caden, not at me.
“You were right,” she said quietly.
Caden stilled. “About what?”
She swallowed. “About learning to fight. Even if you want to rule.”
Silence filled the carriage.
I felt my heart crack open at the sound of it—fear and resolve tangled together in my daughter’s voice.
Caden met her gaze, something unreadable passing through his eyes. “We’ll talk about it later,” he said gently.
Elena nodded once, solemn.
As the carriage rolled back toward the palace, the noise of the market fading behind us, I pressed my daughters close, my body aching, my mind racing. The attack had been stopped. We had survived.
But the message was clear.
Alexander was no longer hiding behind threats and symbols.
He had reached for me in the open.
And next time, he would not miss.