Elara entered her father’s chambers quietly, her fingers tracing the door’s carved edges as she closed it behind her. The soft candlelight made the room feel smaller, the shadows creeping into the corners. King Eldrion sat by the open window, his shoulders slumped, head resting in one hand. The tension in his brow told her all she needed to know.

  “Father,” she said softly, approaching. “I wanted to check on you.”

  The king turned his head slightly, a faint smile attempting to rise but failing. “Elara,” he greeted her, though his voice was weary. “There’s no need to worry about me, child. It’s only a headache.”

  She reached out and gently touched his arm. “You’ve had them every day since... since day after Luminara. Is it our conversation or something related to Theron that weighs on you?”

  The mention of Theron made the air between them feel heavier. Eldrion exhaled, his fingers rubbing at his temples. “He’s not the boy I raised anymore. There’s something in him... a darkness I don’t understand.”

  Elara frowned. “Have you rested?”

  He waved her off weakly. “I’ll be fine. There are more pressing matters than sleep.” He paused, looking away toward the horizon beyond the window, his expression distant. “Too much weighs on my mind.”

  “Stop worrying needlessly Father.” Elara said, “Everything will work out.”

  Then after a moment of hesitation she added, “If you’re worried about what I said, there’s no rush. Your health matters more than anything else.” Elara said.

  Eldrion smiled at her. Before either could continue, the door creaked open again, and Nima stepped in, as quiet as a shadow. The maid carried a small tray, balancing a single goblet on its surface.

  “I’ve brought your medicine, Your Majesty,” Nima said with practiced grace, not looking at either of them as she placed the tray on a small table beside the king.

  Elara glanced at the cup, it was the same routine, every day, the medicine, the headaches. Her father took the cup from the tray without a second thought; his attention still focused on the conversation with her.

  Nima lingered in the background, her presence almost unnoticed as Eldrion took a small sip and set the cup aside.

  Elara shifted, uneasy to speak her mind in Nara’s presence.

  “Father, you need to take care of yourself. You’ve pushed too hard these past few weeks.”

  He gave a half-hearted chuckle, “A king’s duty doesn’t rest, Elara. But... you’re right, I have to stop over-thinking and start acting.” He placed a hand over hers, “I’ll speak to Arion soon.”

  Elara smiled softly, “Rest, and we can speak more tomorrow.”

  Nima stepped forward, clearing the tray with deliberate slowness. Elara caught a glance from the maid, something unreadable in her eyes, before she bowed and excused herself.

  As Elara stood to leave, He leaned back in his chair, his eyelids heavy, the tension in his face slightly eased.

  “You’ll be alright?” Elara asked, turning halfway back to her father, her voice soft with concern.

  He gave her a tired but reassuring nod. “I’ll be fine, Elara.”

  She hesitated, then smiled gently. “I love you, Father. Get some good sleep tonight.”

  “I love you too, my dear.” He said as his gaze softened, a rare warmth in his weary eyes.

  She quietly closed the door behind her and stepped into the cool night air of the palace halls. The chill no longer bothered her, and for the first time in a while, she felt a sense of peace.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  ***

  Later in the night, Elara stirred from her sleep, a strange noise filtering through her dreams. The palace was usually quiet at this hour, save for the occasional murmur of servants or the soft footsteps of guards changing shifts. But this... this was different. The muffled sounds outside her window felt hurried, urgent, too many voices.

  She lay still for a moment, hoping the disturbance would pass, but it only grew louder. She thought, maybe a royal guest has arrived, maybe her uncle? But there had been no word of guests and it was too early in the morning. Pushing herself up from the warmth of her bed, she rubbed her eyes, still heavy with the remnants of sleep. She slipped her feet onto the cold marble floor, a strange feeling settling over her, something that tugged at her chest, urging her to see what was happening.

  As she opened her door, the hallway unfolded in front of her, but it wasn’t the same palace she had woken to every morning. Not this time. Guards paced, their steps quick and deliberate. Servants moved in flurries, their faces flushed and pale, like they were fleeing something they could not see. Maids whispered frantically among themselves, their voices trembling, but when Elara passed, they fell silent. Not a single one met her eyes.

  Her heart began to race, her sleep now fully gone. She felt a sense of urgency creeping up her spine, each face she saw confirming that something was wrong.

  “Nara,” she muttered to herself. Nara would know what was going on.

  Her feet carried her quickly down the corridor, but before she could call for her, she saw Akeem walking past her. A pillar of unwavering strength, he was always so steady, always present. “Akeem,” she called out, her voice soft at first, then louder, demanding his attention, “what’s happening?”

  But Akeem didn’t even glance her way. His jaw was set, his eyes fixed forward as though she didn’t exist. He walked past her like a ghost.

  Is this a dream? Her thoughts spiraled, but no. The cold beneath her bare feet, the rush of blood in her ears told her, this was no dream. A familiar voice reached her ears, louder than the others, more forceful. She strained to hear, and then it clicked. Theron.

  Elara quickened her pace, following the echo of her half-brother’s voice, her pulse quickening with each step. The tension in the air grew thicker as she approached the king and queen’s chambers. She saw him then, Theron, his face red with fury, shouting at a group of healers and medics who were gathered around the door. He stood like a sentry, blocking their path, his hand raised in a gesture of dismissal.

  Her heart skipped. The Queen? Her first thought was that something had happened to her stepmother. That would explain the commotion, the panic.

  But as she moved closer, her eyes widened in confusion. Theron wasn’t standing outside the Queen’s quarters. He was in front of their father’s chambers.

  What is he doing?

  She slipped through the throng of maids, her breath catching in her throat. The voices of the temple healers grew louder, pleading with Theron to let them in. “have to check if there’s something we can do, please, let us through!”

  “No!” Theron’s voice was sharp and unyielding, slicing through the chaos like a blade. “You will not enter!”

  Elara’s blood ran cold. Her eyes scanned the faces around her until they landed on Nima, standing a few feet behind Theron. But where was Nara? Why wasn’t she here?

  None of it made sense. Why would the healers need to enter her father’s chambers? What was happening? She looked frantically around, her confusion mounting, until she saw Kharis, her father’s senior adviser, standing near the door. His usually calm face was drained of color, his eyes hollow like he had just witnessed something beyond his comprehension.

  “Kharis!” Elara’s voice cut through the air, sharp and insistent. She stepped toward him, demanding answers. “What is happening?”

  For a moment, Kharis didn’t respond. He stared at her, his face pale as if he hadn’t truly seen her. Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, he spoke. “Princess… The King is dead.”

  The words hit her like a blow to the chest, knocking the breath from her lungs.

  “No...” Her knees buckled, and the world around her began to spin. She grabbed onto the wall for support, but her strength failed her. She crumbled, collapsing to the floor.

  Dead?

  She had seen him only last night. He had spoken to her, held her hand, promised to talk to her in the morning. This couldn’t be real. It couldn’t be true.

  “Princess!” Nara’s voice pierced through the haze, and suddenly her friend was by her side, helping her up, holding her trembling hands. But Elara couldn’t form the words, her throat was tight, her breath shallow. Her mind refused to make sense of it.

  Theron’s voice thundered over the chaos again.

  “Akeem! If any healer tries to enter the king’s chambers, cut them open!” He claimed with finality as he stormed out.

  Akeem and three other guards moved to block the entrance, their faces stoic, pushing away one of the healers to the ground. The rest of the temple healers recoiled, their pleas falling on deaf ears.

  Shaking, Elara pushed herself up and staggered past them all. Her feet moved on their own, ignoring Nara’s desperate grip on her arm, ignoring the guards, the shouts, the protests.

  She reached the door, her fingers trembling as she pushed it open.

  Inside, the room was eerily still. The king lay there, his skin pale, his eyes closed. Still. Dead.

  Elara’s world shattered.

  Time stood still, as they pulled her back and shut the door.

  ***