Chapter 23
Elara
In the star-speckled sky, the full moon showed her face, casting the pond below in silver and shadow.
Elara admired a family of swans—three gray fledglings trailing their mother—leaving peaceful ripples in their wake.
It was unseasonably late for them to be present on the chilly lake, as autumn had ended and winter was creeping into the landscape.
She leaned on the windowsill as she waited for Caelan to arrive to escort her to the ball.
They would make another grand entrance, and she wasn’t looking forward to it.
The more that she was forced to pretend that she was in love with him, the harder it was to remember that it was supposed to be an act.
Fresh guilt bloomed in her stomach as she realized that, with all the planning for the ball going on, she hadn’t thought about her training in a few days.
Or the prophecy. The silliness of flowers, ribbons, music, and dresses had distracted her.
Yet she understood it wasn’t as silly as it seemed.
Court life revolved around these things.
Elara, praised for her beauty from a young age, now wielded her appearance like a weapon, as she had watched her mother do so many times before.
Tonight, a shimmering white gown draped over her shoulders and cascaded down her body.
The many layers of tulle in her fluffy skirt made the dress difficult to walk in, but when she twirled on the dance floor, she looked like she was floating, each layer billowing and swirling around her.
Iris had twisted her hair up into an elegant bun adorned with delicate white feathers.
Elara wanted her audience to think her innocent—naive, even.
The more Lord Stormrider, and any of his allies at court, underestimated her, the easier it would be for her and Caelan to rescue her family and defeat his father after the wedding.
The doors, which had been opening and closing with the entrances of other noble guests, finally opened for Elara.
Where is he? Is something wrong? She raised a brow at Felix, but then schooled her features into a pleasant smile and entered without Caelan.
With her first step into the hall, the voices quieted and all the guests turned from their conversations to gawk at her.
Elara made eye contact with a few of her preferred nobles before offering the whole of the gathering a graceful nod as she glided down the curved staircase.
Elara knew she had achieved her desired effect when she found Lord Stormrider in the crowd.
His face was a mix of emotions—pride that his son would possess her, and envy that she would always have more admirers than him.
The bright singing of violins flowed through the ballroom, echoing off the ceiling and polished marble floor.
The music filled the atmosphere with a cheerful energy, and hushed gossip intertwined with the notes.
Dozens of silver trays held aloft by white-gloved footmen offered a selection of fine appetizers and drinks to the guests.
While Elara wore white, all the other guests were clothed in shades of green and blue—a theme chosen by Lord Stormrider to celebrate his house joining with the Evensongs.
She reached the bottom of the grand staircase, and the echoing sounds of the crowd faded as Caelan appeared from the shadows, smoothing his doublet.
“You’re late,” she said. Elara’s cheeks flushed, but she masked her surprise and annoyance as she took his outstretched hand.
“Fashionably so, Princess.” Caelan pressed his lips to each of her knuckles, his smile lingering as he looked up at her. The burning in his gaze sent a pleasant shiver down her spine. “Shall we?”
He looped her arm through his and escorted her to the dance floor, his warm eyes never leaving hers. He gestured to the musicians to play their song. The other guests shuffled to clear the space and enjoy Elara and Caelan’s first public dance together.
The couple arrived at the center of the dance floor, at the center of attention, where both of them seemed to thrive despite neither of them enjoying it.
“Ready for this, watermage?” Elara’s face warmed, and her icy smile melted into a genuine one.
“I’d rather be impaled by a wild stag,” he mumbled. “But since you’re so lovely, I think I’ll make do.”
The song that started playing was sweet, the lilting notes light and twinkling.
Nothing like the dark, hungry look in Caelan’s eyes.
He released her arm, offered her a bow, and turned away from her.
Elara mirrored his movements, offering a coy curtsy before giving him her back.
They swayed, lifting opposite arms to the side before twirling to face each other.
“Not bad, for a swordsman,” she teased.
“If only you moved like this in the training ring.” He chuckled.
The beat quickened, becoming less innocent and more romantic. Elara’s heart raced to match the new tempo. Their bodies now passed each other in a lively series of steps. Though they hadn’t touched again, the air between them crackled with a tension so thick it was almost tangible.
Caelan moved with grace and agility. His flourishes matched hers in their elegance, but where he was the frame, Elara was the art.
The audience watched, captivated by the mesmerizing movements and the power of her performance.
Why this made her a worthy queen, Elara would never understand.
With his controlled movements and unwavering focus, Caelan projected an aura of strength and discipline.
They played the game well, even if the rules were suspect.
The last notes of the song rang out, breaking the spell.
Caelan spun her around, catching her as she arched her back into a low dip that had the feathers in her hair tickling the floor.
The moment she rose, a thunderous applause erupted, shaking the floor beneath her feet.
Caelan held her hand while he bowed in triumph before the crowd.
Instead of curtsying, Elara lifted her chin, her eyes flashing with defiance.
Her cheeks were warm from the effort of the dance, but otherwise, she showed no sign that what she had done—what they had done together—was anything but ordinary for the future queen and king.
The couple emerged from the ballroom and onto a vast stone terrace, the scent of camellias and fresh air filling Elara’s lungs.
The moonlight cast a silvery sheen onto the pink blooms. The quick shift from crisp to cool air was a reminder that autumn had already crawled to an end.
It was a wonder that Elara wasn’t freezing in her sleeveless gown.
Lanterns twinkled in the nearby garden, and the loud cloud of voices turned into the soft bubbling of fountains.
“You were incredible,” Caelan said, his voice breathy. His fingers still held hers, a silent promise that hadn’t been broken since that initial grasp. Caelan’s gaze locked with hers as he kissed the back of her hand once more.
A sigh slipped from her lips as a buzzing sensation traveled up her arm and down her neck. She felt the weight of Caelan’s undivided attention on her—on her every breath and movement. Her gaze warmed, just like her belly.
“Dance with me?” he asked.
“Really? Again?” Elara smiled.
“Just for us this time.” Caelan cracked a lazy smile in return.
Elara wrapped her arms around his neck, and he pulled her in close, tugging her hips to meet his. They slowly turned around in a circle, nothing for music but the soothing fountains and their thundering heartbeats.
Caelan rested his chin on her shoulder, stroking the bare skin of her back, sending shivers up and down her spine.
“May I kiss you?” he whispered into her ear before pulling back to gaze at her lips.
Her thoughts raced, making her dizzy.
This wasn’t supposed to happen, to be . . . real.
But her lips parted as she leaned in, nodding her consent.
Elara and Caelan’s first real kiss was tender, nothing like the way they’d teased each other before.
Hope swelled in her chest, a feeling as bright and expansive as the star-filled sky above.
They parted, touching their foreheads together for a moment.
Caelan wove his fingers into the hair at her nape and pulled her in for another one.
This time, they kissed with a ferocious need, their bodies trembling, as if starving for the other’s touch.
Elara caressed his chest as he kissed her reverently.
She sighed with pleasure as he moaned against her mouth.
It was bliss. Caelan trailed his hands down her back and onto her waist. She placed a hand on his cheek.
After weeks of playing hunter and prey, each of them swapping roles at any given moment, the two now found each other equally vulnerable.
When they finally parted, Caelan leaned back, admiring her. Her cheeks heated, and he brushed a stray curl behind her ear.
“You’re so beautiful, Elara.” He said her name like a prayer.
“Thank you,” she said.
Elara knew she was stupid to fall in love with her enemy—or rather, her enemy’s son. But while she craved an ally, she also craved companionship. And not just any companionship. She wanted Caelan’s. He’d trained her, kept her ability a secret from his father, and promised to free her family.
The spark between them—their chemistry evident in stolen glances and lingering touches—paved the way for a deeper connection. As she’d learned of his childhood—filled with such violence and sorrow—she wondered if perhaps his kindness, his generosity, was a rebellion to that.
They understood each other’s pain. Just as she felt trapped in this horrid situation, he was a prisoner of sorts as well. No one could save them, and the only way out was through.
Caelan looked right into her eyes—into her.
“I don’t want to be alone anymore,” she whispered.
His breath hitched before he said, “You’re not alone. I’m here—you’ll never be alone again.”