Elara’s POV

The ride back to the palace dissolved into nothing after seeing the magical projection of Kaelen carrying Seraphine into that inn room—the undeniable proof that Gareth had been right.

I don’t remember the streets. Don’t remember guiding the horse through the crowded streets or passing through the outer gates. My hands held the reins. My body sat upright. But I was somewhere else entirely. Somewhere hollow and far away where sound didn’t reach.

The stable boy took my horse. Said something. I didn’t hear it.

My boots carried me through the side entrance. Down the servants’ corridor. Up the private staircase. One step after another. Mechanical. Empty.

At 3:47 p.m., the letter was waiting on the hall table outside our apartments. Cream parchment, sealed with the governess’s mark. I broke it open with numb fingers.

Your Imperial Majesty — Young Valerius and Princess Lyra are enjoying their afternoon at Lady Thornwood’s residence. The children will be collected and returned to the palace by five o’clock. Respectfully yours.

I stared at the words until they blurred.

Five o’clock. That gave me time.

Time for what, exactly? To fall apart properly?

I pushed open the door to the sitting room. Closed it behind me. The lock clicked. Such a small sound.

Then the dam broke.

I collapsed onto the sofa and a sound came out of me that I didn’t recognize. Raw. Guttural. An animal sound. My fists pressed against my stomach as sobs racked through me—violent, ugly, choking things that scraped my throat raw.

His hand on her waist.

I curled inward. Forehead against my knees.

Her head on his shoulder.

The fabric of my skirt grew damp. Tears I couldn’t control, couldn’t slow.

The door closing behind them.

A container. That’s all I was. A convenient womb to produce heirs with the correct bloodline. While he—while he went to her. Beautiful Seraphine with her elegant composure and her sharp mind and her presence that filled any room she entered.

I pressed my face into a cushion and screamed. Muffled. Pathetic. The sound disappeared into silk and stuffing and no one heard.

No one was meant to hear.

I cried until my ribs ached. Until my eyes swelled nearly shut. Until there was simply nothing left inside me to expel. And then I lay there. Hollow. Staring at the ceiling molding without seeing it.

The clock on the mantle ticked.

Eventually, I registered the time. It was 4:23 p.m. Less than forty minutes before the children returned.

I forced myself upright. My legs trembled. I gripped the arm of the sofa and stood.

The washroom mirror showed me a stranger. Swollen eyes, red-rimmed and raw. Blotchy skin. Hair tangled where I’d fisted it. I turned on the cold water and pressed a cloth against my face. Held it there until the sting became numbness.

Again. And again.

I brushed my hair. Pinched my cheeks for color that wasn’t born of weeping. Applied a touch of the tinted salve I kept for state dinners, just enough to disguise the worst of it.

The woman in the mirror looked tired. But presentable. Functional.

Good enough.

---

They burst through the door in a tangle of excited voices.

"Mother! Mother, you won’t believe what happened—" Lyra was already running, her small boots clattering on the stone floor. She launched herself at my legs. I caught her. Lifted her. Pressed my lips to her temple.

"Tell me everything, my little darling."

"Maya’s brother has a dragon chess set and he said girls can’t play strategy games but then I won and his face went all—" She scrunched her features into an exaggerated grimace.

"She cheated," Valerius said from the doorway. Calm. Matter-of-fact.

"I did not!"

"You moved your drake two squares diagonally. Drakes only move forward."

"It was a special drake."

I set Lyra down and smoothed her wind-tangled hair. "It sounds like you both had a wonderful afternoon."

"Maya’s mother made honey biscuits," Valerius offered, setting his satchel on the bench by the door. His dark gold eyes—so like his father’s—studied me for a moment. "They were acceptable."

"High praise from you, my little warrior." I touched his shoulder. He allowed it briefly before stepping past me toward the bookshelf.

Normal. Everything normal. I could do this.

I moved to the kitchen alcove and arranged a plate of sliced pears and almond cakes. My hands didn’t shake. I placed the plate on the low table in the sitting room. Poured water into their cups. Set out napkins.

"Valerius, bring your rune work. Let’s finish before supper."

He retrieved his primer without argument. We sat together at the desk—his small body warm beside mine—while I corrected his glyph strokes and quizzed him on the ancient alphabet. His handwriting was precise. Confident. He got every answer right.

"Perfect," I murmured. "Every single one."

He nodded once. Satisfied. Unsurprised.

Then Lyra climbed into my lap with her picture book. "Mother, teach me the hard word."

I looked where her finger pointed. The illustration showed a gray beast with enormous ears.

"Elephant," I said slowly.

"El... ee... fant."

"Almost. El-e-phant. Three parts."

"El-e-phant." She beamed up at me, and her eyes—those ocean-blue eyes that were entirely her father’s—caught the lamplight. "Did I do it?"

"You did it perfectly, sweetheart."

Bath time. Warm water. Lavender soap that Lyra insisted on because it made her smell like a garden. She splashed and chattered while I washed her silver hair and tried not to think about anything beyond the next few moments.

I lifted her out. Wrapped her in a towel. Helped her into the pink unicorn nightgown she’d chosen herself and refused to let the maids replace.

"Mother?" Lyra’s hand touched my face. Small fingers against my cheek. "Your eyes are pink." 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝕨𝕖𝗯𝚗𝚘𝕧𝕖𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝕞

"Allergies," I said. Smiled. "The garden pollen this time of year."

"Oh." She accepted this without question. "Can the healers fix it?"

"It’ll pass on its own. Don’t worry."

I tucked her in. Kissed her forehead. Left the door open a crack, the way she liked.

Valerius was already in bed. Reading. His lamp cast a warm circle across his pillow.

"Lights out soon," I told him from the doorway.

"I’m finishing this Chapter."

"One Chapter. Then sleep."

He looked up at me. That gaze—too perceptive for his age—held mine for a beat too long. "Goodnight, Mother."

"Goodnight, my little warrior."

I pulled his door mostly closed and stood in the hallway. The silence settled over me like a burial shroud.

---

Downstairs. The sitting room again. I didn’t light the lamps.

Darkness suited what I’d become.

I sat in the chair by the window. The one facing the entrance hall. And I waited.

The clock marked each minute like a heartbeat winding down. The evening sky deepened from violet to black beyond the glass. Stars appeared. Distant. Indifferent.

I sat perfectly still.

The clock ticked past 7:43 p.m. I didn’t move.

Past 8:15 p.m. I didn’t move.

My breathing was even. My hands rested in my lap. I was beyond tears now. Beyond the choking sobs of the afternoon. Something colder had settled in their place. Something clear and sharp as winter glass.

I was done.

At exactly 8:52 p.m., the sound of wheels on cobblestone reached me first. Then the creak of the carriage door. Footsteps on the front stairs. Slow. Heavy.

The entrance opened.

Kaelen stepped inside. He looked... depleted. His outer robe hung creased and wrinkled, as if he’d sat in it too long. The collar was loose, his cravat pulled crooked. Dark shadows bruised the skin beneath his eyes. He moved like a man carrying something immense and invisible on his shoulders.

Guilt. That’s what lived on his face. Written across every exhausted line.

He didn’t see me at first. Started toward the stairs.

Then he stopped. Turned. Squinted into the unlit sitting room.

"Ela?" Surprise colored his voice. "You’re still awake. I thought you’d—"

I rose from the chair. Stepped forward. Into the thin band of moonlight that fell through the window. Close enough to catch the scent of sandalwood clinging to his collar.

His mouth opened. Some excuse beginning to form. Some lie assembling itself behind those dark gold eyes.

I didn’t let it arrive.

"Ela—"

"I already know." Flat. Final. A door closing forever. "I know everything, Kaelen."