Elara’s POV

The horse moved beneath me. Steady. Mechanical. I didn’t guide it. Didn’t need to.

My hands gripped the reins so hard my knuckles had gone white. I couldn’t feel them anymore. Couldn’t feel much of anything, really. Just the rhythm of hooves on cobblestone and the images that wouldn’t stop.

Seraphine’s body. Those marks. Kaelen’s bare chest. The tangled sheets.

Over and over. A loop with no exit.

I blinked. The palace gates were ahead. When had I gotten this close? The ride back to the palace should have taken longer. Or maybe it had. Maybe I’d lost time somewhere between the stables and here, swallowed up by the pictures branded into the backs of my eyelids.

A messenger approached as I dismounted. Young. Nervous. He held out a sealed envelope.

"Your Majesty, from Training Commander Jessica. Regarding tomorrow’s schedule—"

I took the letter. Didn’t open it. Tucked it into my belt without looking at it.

Tomorrow’s training schedule. As if tomorrow mattered. As if anything on that piece of paper could matter now.

The messenger lingered. I walked past him.

Inside the corridor, my boots echoed against the marble floors. The sound was too loud. Everything was too loud and too quiet at the same time. My own breathing felt like someone else’s.

Gareth’s voice slithered through my mind, uninvited.

"When you and Kaelen are finally done... you can come to me."

I almost laughed. Almost. The sound died somewhere in my throat, strangled by something that tasted like bile.

I gestured to a nearby maid in the corridor. "Connect the magical communication to the Royal Academy."

The maid bowed, quickly activating the enchanted relay crystal on the wall. A moment later, a woman’s face shimmered into view above the crystal. Unfamiliar. Middle-aged. Spectacles perched on a narrow nose. She wore the deep burgundy collar of the Royal Academy’s faculty.

"Your Majesty." She dipped her head. "Forgive the intrusion. I’m one of the afternoon tutors at the Academy. We’ve been trying to reach His Majesty the Emperor regarding Prince Valerius and Princess Lyra’s collection arrangements for today, but we’ve received no response."

Of course he hadn’t responded.

He’d been busy.

"I’ll handle it," I said. My voice sounded foreign. Flat. Like words spoken underwater.

"Thank you, Your Majesty. We simply need confirmation that their escort will arrive on time. The children are in excellent spirits today—Prince Valerius completed his—"

"The governess will be there within twenty minutes."

The tutor paused. Studied my face through the projection. Whatever she saw made her swallow her next words.

"Of course, Your Majesty. We’ll expect her."

The crystal went dark.

I stood in the corridor. Alone. The silence pressed in from all sides.

My children. I needed to make sure someone was there for my children.

I couldn’t do it myself. Not right now. If Valerius looked at me with those dark gold eyes—his father’s eyes—I would shatter. And if Lyra reached for me with her small hands and asked me to smile, I would break into so many pieces no one would ever find them all.

I sent a servant to fetch the governess.

She arrived within minutes. Flushed. Slightly out of breath. Her expression shifted when she saw me standing in the dim hallway, still in my riding clothes, still gripping Jessica’s unopened letter.

"Your Majesty? Is everything—"

"I need you to go to the Royal Academy. Collect Valerius and Lyra." I paused. Breathed. "Stay with them this evening. A few hours. Take them to the gardens, or the playroom. Whatever they want."

"Of course." She stepped closer. Concern softened her voice. "Your Majesty, are you unwell? Shall I send for—"

"No." The word came out sharper than I intended. I softened it. Barely. "I just need a few hours. Please."

She nodded. Didn’t push. Good woman. Reliable. She’d been with us since Lyra was born.

"I’ll take excellent care of them, Your Majesty."

"I know you will."

She left. Her footsteps faded down the corridor, and then I was alone again.

Alone.

I walked to our chambers. The royal wing. Our wing. The place where I had slept beside him. Where he had held me. Where he had whispered my name against my hair in the dark and made me believe—

I pushed the doors open.

The sitting room was cold. The hearth hadn’t been lit. The magical lamps were off. Late afternoon light crept weakly through the heavy curtains, but I didn’t open them. Didn’t touch the lamp switch on the wall.

I sat down on the sofa.

The leather was cool against my palms. I placed my hands in my lap. Folded them. Stared at the wall across from me.

Nothing moved.

I thought about the last message Kaelen had sent. Yesterday. A brief note, delivered by his personal attendant. "Something urgent has come up. Don’t wait for me tonight."

That was all. No explanation. No warmth. Just the cold efficiency of a man who didn’t want to be questioned.

And then—nothing. No follow-up. No second message. No crystal call. No word at all.

He’d simply vanished. 𝚏𝐫𝚎𝗲𝕨𝐞𝐛𝕟𝚘𝐯𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝗺

I had considered sending someone to find him. The thought had circled my mind like a vulture. But then Gareth’s words would rise again, and the images would return, and I’d realize I was terrified of what the search would confirm. Terrified that Gareth’s words were true.

So I sat.

Time passed. I couldn’t tell how long. The light behind the curtains shifted from pale gold to deep amber to something close to gray. The room grew darker.

I didn’t move.

The silence pressed down on me, heavy with silent dread. Every memory of his promises twisted into something ugly. My emotional paralysis was slowly hardening into a cold, confronting resolve. The foundation of our marriage, the trust we had built, was crumbling to dust in the shadows of this room.

And I thought about Seraphine’s bruised skin. The bite marks. The evidence written on her body in purple and red.

A sound.

Footsteps. Heavy. Uneven. Coming down the corridor toward our doors.

I didn’t move.

The door handle turned. A pause—as if the person on the other side needed a moment. Then it swung open.

A figure stepped inside. Tall. Broad-shouldered. Silhouetted against the faint light from the hallway.

Kaelen.

Even in the near-darkness, I could see enough. His shirt was wrinkled—the same one from yesterday, creased in ways that spoke of being removed and put back on in a hurry. His hair fell across his forehead in tangled, unwashed strands. Dark shadows carved hollows beneath his eyes.

He looked like a man who hadn’t slept. Who hadn’t eaten. Who had clawed his way back from somewhere he couldn’t name.

He looked wrecked.

Good.

"Elara." His voice was rough. Scraped raw. Relief bled through it like water through cracked stone. "Thank the Moon. I—"

He took a step forward. Then stopped.

Because he saw my face.

I didn’t know what he found there. I wasn’t trying to arrange my expression into anything. I was simply sitting in the dark, looking at the man I’d built my entire world around, and feeling the foundation crack beneath me.

He went rigid. His hand, still raised as if reaching for me, froze midair.

"Why—" He swallowed. Tried again. "Why didn’t you light the magical lamps?"

He crossed to the wall. Found the switch. Pressed it.

Warm golden light flooded the room.

It was worse in the light. Every detail sharpened. The deep creases in his shirt. The faint redness around his collar. The way his jaw was clenched so tight the muscle twitched beneath the skin. And his eyes—those dark gold eyes that my son had inherited—filled with something tangled and desperate.

Guilt.

And beneath it, unmistakable and absolute: fear.

He opened his mouth.

I spoke first, my voice turning to ice.

"Where were you last night?"