The candlelight flickered in Elara's chamber as she reread Lucian's letter, the words etched into her mind like a foreboding omen. Trust no one. The game has begun.
Who was she not to trust? The court? Her brothers? Even Lucian himself? Her heart thudded in her chest as she tucked the note into her drawer, locking it securely.
The morning arrived with a pale sun casting its light across the kingdom. Elara decided she needed answers.
In the training grounds, Alaric's booming voice carried over the clamor of clashing swords.
"Again!" he barked at a young knight struggling to hold his stance.
Elara approached, her royal gown fluttering in the wind.
"Brother," she greeted, her tone careful.
Alaric turned, his expression hard. "Princess."
"I need a word," she said, ignoring the formality.
Alaric dismissed the knights with a wave. Once they were alone, he folded his arms. "What is it?"
"Why did you speak against me during the council?" she asked directly.
He smirked. "You mean why I spoke the truth? You're a dreamer, Elara. A woman ruling this kingdom? Our laws forbid it."
"Laws can be changed," she shot back.
His smirk faded, replaced by a steely glare. "Not by you. Accept your place, sister. It will save you heartbreak."
Elara held his gaze. "I don't intend to accept anything."
Alaric sighed. "You're stubborn, I'll give you that. But stubbornness will get you killed in this game."
"Game?" she asked, her voice sharp.
He leaned closer, his voice low. "Don't act naïve. Father's decision will come down to who proves themselves most worthy of the throne. And worth is not measured in ideals. It's measured in power."
Elara straightened, unflinching. "Then I'll show him my worth."
Alaric laughed, but there was no humor in it. "We'll see, sister. We'll see."
As Elara left the training grounds, her thoughts were a whirlwind of anger and determination. She didn't notice Lucian until he fell into step beside her.
"You look upset," he remarked, his tone light.
"Alaric," she muttered. "He's insufferable."
Lucian chuckled. "That's his charm."
She stopped walking and faced him. "Why did you send me that letter?"
He raised an eyebrow. "What letter?"
"Don't play games with me, Lucian," she hissed.
His smile faded, and his expression turned serious. "If you've received a warning, then heed it. This court is a battlefield, Elara, and not everyone will fight fair."
"Are you saying one of our brothers—"
"I'm saying nothing," he interrupted. "Only that you should tread carefully."
Before she could press him further, he turned and walked away, leaving her more unsettled than before.
Later that day, Elara visited Caelum in the castle's west wing, where the former knights had their quarters. His room was modest, the remnants of his once-proud station reduced to a small space cluttered with sketches and a few books.
"Princess," he greeted, rising awkwardly to his feet. His limp was more pronounced today, the strain of his injury evident.
"Sit, Caelum," she said softly, guiding him back into the chair. "You don't have to stand for me."
"I may not be a knight anymore, but respect hasn't left me," he replied with a small smile.
She studied him, noting the shadow in his eyes. "Caelum, I need to know... how did it happen? The injury?"
He stiffened, his jaw tightening.
"You don't have to tell me if you're not ready," she added quickly.
"No," he said after a moment. "You deserve to know."
He took a deep breath, his gaze distant. "It was an ambush. A border skirmish we thought was routine. They came out of nowhere—mercenaries, well-trained and well-equipped. We fought hard, but we were outnumbered. I... I took a blow meant for the crown prince."
Elara's heart clenched. "Alaric?"
He nodded. "He was injured, but I shielded him. The last thing I remember is him dragging me out of the fray before everything went dark."
"And after?"
"When I woke, I couldn't feel my leg. The healers did what they could, but..." He gestured at his injured limb. "This was the result."
Elara reached for his hand, her touch gentle. "You're a hero, Caelum. You saved a life."
He shook his head. "I failed my men. I failed the kingdom."
"You didn't fail anyone," she said firmly. "You're still the Sun-blessed knight, and you're still the man I..." She stopped herself, her cheeks flushing.
Caelum looked at her, his expression softening. "Elara..."
The moment hung in the air, charged and unspoken, before a knock at the door shattered it.
"Your Highness," a servant called from outside, "the king requests your presence in the throne room."
Elara sighed, pulling away. "Duty calls."
She stood, pausing at the door to look back at him. "We'll finish this conversation later."
Caelum nodded, his eyes following her until she was gone.
The throne room was a hive of activity, courtiers bustling about, voices raised in debate. Elara entered, her head held high, masking the unease twisting in her chest after her conversation with Caelum.
Her father, King Altheron, sat upon the gilded throne, his gaze stern and assessing. Her brothers were scattered among the nobles, each exuding their unique presence. Alaric stood by their father, a silent sentinel. Lucian leaned casually against a pillar, his expression unreadable. Sebastian and Darius flanked the court's entrance, engaged in quiet conversation.
"Elara," the king's voice boomed, silencing the room. "You've arrived."
She curtsied gracefully. "Your Majesty."
Altheron gestured for her to step forward. "A matter has come to my attention. It concerns your intentions regarding the trial of succession."
Whispers erupted, nobles exchanging glances. Elara's heart raced, but she kept her composure.
"I seek to prove myself worthy of the crown, Father," she declared.
Alaric snorted. "You mean to defy tradition, then."
She met his gaze unflinchingly. "I mean to earn my place."
"Enough," the king interrupted, his tone sharp. "Elara, the council demands assurance that your pursuit of the throne is not driven by... personal motives."
Her throat tightened. "Personal motives, Your Majesty?"
"You are seen often in the company of Caelum. A crippled knight with no standing in this court," Alaric said, his voice laced with disdain.
The words stung, but Elara refused to flinch. "Caelum has served this kingdom with honor. His injury does not diminish his worth."
"And yet, the court whispers," Alaric pressed.
Lucian interjected, his tone light but his words pointed. "Perhaps the court should concern itself less with whispers and more with actions."
The king raised a hand, silencing them all. "Elara, you will remain under scrutiny. Until the trial begins, your every move will be watched. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Father," she replied, her voice steady despite the tension gripping her.
After the court dispersed, Lucian caught up with her in the corridor.
"Well done," he said, falling into step beside her.
"Spare me your sarcasm," she muttered.
"I'm being sincere. You didn't crumble under pressure, which is more than I can say for most."
She shot him a glance. "You know something, don't you?"
He smiled faintly. "I know many things, sister."
She grabbed his arm, forcing him to stop. "Lucian, if you have information that could help me, you need to tell me."
He studied her for a moment, then leaned in, his voice low. "Not all your brothers are as they seem. Some are more dangerous than you realize."
"Who?"
He shook his head. "That's for you to discover. But tread carefully, Elara. The game has only just begun."
Meanwhile, Caelum sat alone in his quarters, staring at a map spread across the table. The borders of the kingdom were marked with ink, each line a reminder of the battles he had fought and the men he had lost.
His thoughts drifted back to the ambush, the screams of his comrades, the cold steel that had shattered his leg. He had acted on instinct, shielding Alaric from a fatal blow, but the cost had been his own future.
A knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts.
"Come in," he called.
The door opened to reveal Sebastian, the third prince.
"Your Highness," Caelum said, rising with difficulty.
Sebastian waved him back into his chair. "No need for formalities."
"To what do I owe the honor?"
Sebastian smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "I came to thank you, Caelum. For your service to the crown and for protecting Alaric."
"It was my duty," Caelum replied carefully.
Sebastian's gaze lingered on the map. "You were a brilliant strategist once. I wonder if you still are."
Caelum frowned. "What are you implying?"
Sebastian leaned closer, his voice dropping. "This trial of succession will be unlike any before it. Alliances will be forged, and betrayals will run deep. If Elara is to stand a chance, she will need more than courage."
"What are you asking of me?"
"Help her. Use your mind, your skills, to guide her. You may no longer wield a sword, but you can still fight for her."
Caelum's jaw tightened. "And what's in it for you, Your Highness?"
Sebastian's smile returned, sly and calculating. "Let's just say I have my own reasons for wanting Elara to succeed."
Before Caelum could respond, Sebastian turned and left, leaving him alone with his thoughts.
Later that night, Elara found herself wandering the castle gardens. The moonlight bathed the flowers in a silver glow, the air cool and fragrant. She stopped by a fountain, staring at her reflection in the water.
"Lost in thought, Your Highness?"
She turned to see Caelum approaching, his limp more pronounced in the uneven garden path.
"Caelum," she said softly.
He stopped a few steps away, his expression unreadable. "Do you truly believe you can win this trial?"
She hesitated, then nodded. "I have to."
"For the kingdom, or for yourself?"
"For both," she admitted.
He studied her, his gaze intense. "Then I will stand by you. Whatever it takes."
Emotion swelled in her chest, but she kept her composure. "Thank you, Caelum."
The two stood in silence, the weight of their unspoken feelings hanging between them, as the fountain's gentle trickle filled the night air.