The castle halls were quiet as Elara made her way to the library, her thoughts heavy. The weight of the trial loomed, but her father's words had sparked something else—a determination to understand her brothers and the forces that sought to control her life.
She entered the grand library, its shelves towering with centuries of knowledge. Sitting by a dimly lit corner was Lucian, the second eldest, engrossed in a scroll. He glanced up as she approached, his piercing blue eyes narrowing.
"Studying statecraft, Lucian?" Elara asked, pulling out a chair.
Lucian's lips curled into a thin smile. "Always. You should try it sometime. It might help you avoid rash decisions."
"And what decisions of mine do you deem rash?"
"The trial, for one." He set the scroll down and leaned back. "Father's ultimatum was a trap, and you walked right into it."
Elara's jaw tightened. "If I don't fight, I lose everything. You think I should just accept that?"
"You misunderstand me," Lucian said, his tone softer. "I admire your resolve, Elara. But resolve without strategy is a blade without an edge."
She studied him carefully. Lucian had always been the most enigmatic of her brothers, his mind sharp and his motives concealed.
"Is that advice?" she asked cautiously.
"Consider it a warning," he replied, standing. "You'll need allies, Elara. Choose wisely."
As he walked away, she couldn't shake the feeling that Lucian's words carried more weight than he let on.
Later that evening, Elara found herself in the armory, seeking out Edric and Lorian. The twins were sparring, their wooden swords clashing with precise movements.
"Practicing for war?" Elara teased as she approached.
Edric grinned, lowering his sword. "Always. You never know when Lucian might stab us in the back."
Lorian chuckled, wiping sweat from his brow. "Or Alaric from the front."
Their camaraderie was infectious, and for a moment, Elara allowed herself to smile.
"Are you here to join us, sister?" Lorian asked, handing her a practice sword.
"I came to understand my opponents," she replied, taking the sword.
Edric raised an eyebrow. "Opponents? We're your brothers, not your enemies."
"Sometimes, it's hard to tell the difference," she said, meeting his gaze.
Their expressions turned serious, and Lorian spoke first. "You're braver than we are, Elara. None of us would dare challenge Father like you did."
"That's not bravery," Edric added. "It's madness."
"Madness or not," Elara said, her voice firm, "I won't back down."
The twins exchanged a glance before nodding. "Then you have our support," Lorian said.
"Even if it costs us," Edric added.
That night, as the castle quieted, Elara stood outside Caelum's quarters. She hesitated before knocking, her heart heavy with unspoken questions.
"Come in," his voice called softly.
The room was dimly lit, the fire casting shadows across the walls. Caelum sat by the window, his cane resting against his chair.
"Couldn't sleep?" he asked, his tone warm.
"Something like that," she admitted, taking a seat across from him. "I wanted to ask you something."
His expression turned curious. "What is it?"
"How did it happen?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "The injury."
He tensed, his gaze falling to his hands. For a moment, she thought he wouldn't answer.
"It was an ambush," he said finally. "We were escorting a caravan near the border when bandits attacked. Or so we thought."
"What do you mean?"
"They weren't ordinary bandits," he explained. "They moved with precision, their tactics too refined. It was a trap, and we walked right into it."
Her breath hitched. "Who were they?"
"I don't know," he admitted. "But they weren't after the caravan—they were after me."
Her heart raced. "Because of the blessing?"
He nodded. "The blessing makes me a symbol. A target. Whoever they were, they wanted to destroy that symbol."
"And they almost did," she whispered.
His gaze met hers, the pain in his eyes raw. "They didn't just take my mobility, Elara. They took my purpose."
"That's not true," she said fiercely. "You're more than a knight, Caelum. You're..." She trailed off, unable to find the words.
He smiled faintly. "Thank you. But some days, it's hard to believe."
She reached out, her hand brushing his. "Then let me believe for you."
For a moment, the weight of their burdens seemed lighter.
The dawn crept over the horizon, its golden rays spilling across the kingdom. In the grand dining hall, the royal family gathered for breakfast—a rare occurrence orchestrated by King Aldred himself. Elara entered, her gaze scanning the table. Her father sat at the head, a mountain of authority. To his right sat Alaric, the eldest prince, a figure of intimidating composure. Lucian, ever the tactician, was beside him, a faint smirk playing on his lips. The twins, Edric and Lorian, were already deep in a playful argument over a hunting expedition.
"Good morning, Elara," her father said as she approached. His tone was neutral, but his eyes betrayed a hint of calculation.
"Good morning, Father." She curtsied before taking her seat.
"Today, we discuss matters of importance," Aldred announced, his deep voice commanding the room's attention. "The trial looms, and it is vital that we, as a family, present strength and unity to the kingdom."
Alaric leaned forward, his piercing gaze resting on Elara. "Strength and unity are not achieved through rebellion," he said, his tone cold.
Elara met his gaze, unflinching. "Nor are they achieved through oppression."
"Enough," Aldred interrupted, his voice sharp. "We are not here to argue. Alaric, you will oversee the preparations for the trial."
"As you command," Alaric replied, though his eyes lingered on Elara, a silent warning.
Later, as the court dispersed, Lucian fell into step beside Elara.
"You enjoy poking the bear, don't you?" he remarked, his tone amused.
"Someone has to," she replied.
Lucian chuckled. "Careful, sister. Alaric is not one to forgive easily."
"And you?" she asked, her voice quiet. "Where do you stand in all this?"
He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Where I always stand, Elara—on the winning side."
His cryptic response left her uneasy.
That afternoon, Elara sought solace in the royal gardens. The air was crisp, the scent of blooming roses calming her nerves. She found Caelum sitting beneath the shade of an ancient oak tree, his sketchbook in hand.
"Sketching again?" she asked as she approached.
He glanced up, his face softening. "It keeps my mind busy."
She settled beside him, peering at the page. It was a detailed drawing of the castle, its towers reaching toward the sky.
"You're talented," she said.
"Thank you." He paused, his gaze shifting to the horizon. "What did the king want?"
"To remind me of my place," she replied bitterly.
Caelum frowned. "You deserve more than this, Elara."
"And yet, this is what I have." She hesitated before asking, "Did you ever feel that way? Before... everything?"
He sighed, closing the sketchbook. "All the time. Being the Sun-blessed knight wasn't just an honor—it was a burden. Everyone expected me to be perfect, to never fail. And when I did..." His voice trailed off.
"You didn't fail," she said firmly.
"Tell that to the men who died because of me," he replied, his voice heavy with guilt.
She placed a hand on his arm. "You're not to blame, Caelum. Whatever happened, those who ambushed you are the ones at fault."
He looked at her, his expression conflicted. "It's kind of you to say, but kindness doesn't change the past."
"No, but it can shape the future," she said.
That night, as Elara prepared for bed, a knock echoed through her chambers.
"Come in," she called.
A servant entered, bowing deeply. "Your Highness, a letter for you."
She took the parchment, her heart pounding as she recognized the seal—it was Lucian's. Breaking it open, she read the message inside:
"Trust no one. In This game."
Chills ran down her spine.