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“The high council advisors and the outer district lords have gathered in the main hall,” the King explains. “They are demanding signatures and answers regarding the marketplace blast. I am far too weak to endure the roaring arguments of the court chamber today.” Raelith shifts the documents across his lap, selecting one of the sealed reports before him. “The blast has made the southern districts uneasy. Merchants are already refusing to move their goods through the lower roads, fearing another attack, while the rumors of Zahraani involvement continue to spread without evidence.”

His thumb presses against the edge of the parchment. “We cannot allow fear to close the trade routes for us. The vanguard will be divided. One portion will reinforce the southern roads and remain near the marketplace, while another will patrol the eastern approach where our merchants enter the city. Their orders are to protect the routes, not provoke Zahraan or cross the border.”

Kaera’s expression sharpens. “So, the deployment is meant to protect the trade lines while making it clear that Riverath is not preparing for war.”

Raelith gives a faint nod. “Exactly. We will increase protection without giving the council reason to claim that we are turning a marketplace attack into a military campaign. Therefore, I want you and Cael to enter the grand hall together. You will present the new vanguard deployment and sign the emergency logs before the entire assembly. For the first time, you shall manage the court alone, without my presence to guide the lords.”

Cael’s heart races. To stand ahead of the critical eyes of his father without his normal composure tests his frame, a wave of pressure rushing through his joints. He must face the sovereign who relies on his strength, and the weight of the family’s future now rests on his bare hands.

Kaera takes a half-step closer to Cael, her posture straightening as she looks back at their father. “We will handle it.”

King Raelith smiles, reaching out his weak hand and squeezes Cael’s wrist, his gaze filled with faith. “Do not fear their voices, my son. You are the heir to this throne, and Kaera possesses a sharp mind to aid you. Elara has yet to improve, though I do not doubt her abilities. It is time for the kingdom to see the strength and unity of the generation that will one day rule these lands.”

The reassuring smile on Kaera’s lips disappears.

Cael pulls his hand away a little too quickly, feeling Kaera’s gaze. Queen Maereth speaks instantly. “Is that how you appreciate your own father’s sacrifice and hard work? He is offering you a position only a sufficient king deserves to hold. Not a mute boy.”

King Raelith does not seem angry while he offers another weak smile. “Cael is capable of becoming a better king than my own rule. Even now, his achievements as a prince surpass the choices of my own reign.” He clears his hoarse throat once more. “I believe in your strength. All of you.”

Kaera is the first to exit the bedchamber, the door shutting behind her with force that vibrates the stone. Cael glances back at his father for a final moment, offering him a formal bow before rushing off. He ignores Maereth’s growing frustration from behind, signaled by her heavy exhale, and rushes toward Kaera, recognizing the depth of her feelings. It is evidence that has been laying before him long before his eyes could truly recognize it.

Cael maintains a habit of studying people and objects with a precise focus. At least, that was his belief. Now, he realizes the sheer magnitude of what he has missed.

“You follow my steps because you noticed my tears,” Kaera cries while she moves down the corridor, reaching her quarters. Her hand presses the heavy latch. She turns to face Cael. “You see the truth now. Father reaches for your strength first. He calls for your presence first. His eyes hold a different adoration toward your life.”

The back of her hand wipes her tears away while they stream with anger. “You possess a purpose in this palace, Cael. Father relies on your strength, and the high council fears your authority. You take the lead for this lineage.” Her voice trembles while she continues to pour out her heart. “But what am I to this family? People address me as Her Highness, but the title remains empty. I manage small duties around the kingdom, but I remain known only as your sister, an afterthought in these halls. I possess the knowledge to help. Still, they push my frame into the shadows, denying my voice in court and the chance to protect the family I love.” She shakes her head while the tears stream down her cheeks.

“It is unfair,” her voice breaks, and she pushes the door open, shutting the heavy wood behind her frame. “Too unfair,” she says at last, her voice mumbled while her heavy sobs remain the only sounds left to hear in the quiet hallway.

Cael stands by the closed door, taking Kaera’s words into his thoughts. His father pressured him and overwhelmed his schedule with duties far more than a prince should bear, yet he knew all along the weight was intended for his own growth. Raelith expressed love toward Cael by abandoning his own administrative chaos to ensure his son fared well, checking on his frame at night and treating him with care until Cael requested boundaries. His father demonstrated his belief through actions rather than words, carrying a warm smile.

A single tear falls from Cael’s eye, slipping to his chin until it lands on the carpet. Memories of their childhood surface, striking his chest with guilt. He remembers Kaera at a younger age, standing at his side to mimic his precise gestures during his lessons. She copied his movements with hopeful eyes staring toward their father, starving for a word of praise or a sliver of the same recognition.

King Raelith offered guidance to his daughter, but his heaviest hopes stayed locked onto Cael. Kaera dropped her arms in silence whenever his attention drifted back to the heir. His father spent years pouring a different magnitude of focus into one child, blind to the heartbreak of the girl waiting in the shadows for equal recognition.

Cael turns and forces his heavy legs along the corridor, bypassing the door to Elara’s quarters. Kaera’s words continue to flood his racing heart, piercing his thoughts.

Seeking an ounce of clarity amidst the chaos, he changes his direction and makes his way toward his private sanctuary.

XXXIII

THE QUEEN’S DECISION

E

Elara’s presses the back of her hand against her forehead,

expecting to feel the heat that had troubled her for days. Nothing remains. Only the coolness of her own skin greets her touch. The soreness in her throat is gone. Relieved, she slips from the mattress, only to shiver and retreat beneath the sheets again. The winter has grown harsher, and she realizes a coat alone may not be enough to keep her warm.

“This is why I loathe winter!” Asma complains from the garden below, groaning as she looks over the withered beds. “I only wish I could grow every vibrant flower and watch them bloom again.”

Elara finds herself smiling as she listens to the voices below. After days of waking to silence, hearing them again makes the palace feel less empty. She turns and makes her way toward the balcony, pulling the glass doors open. A stronger gust rushes into the chamber, stirring the curtains behind her and sending a chill across her skin. Elara shivers as she steps outside, the numbing cold of the stone seeping through her bare feet.

Her eyes find Asma, Claire, and Celestia below, all three bundled against the cold. Asma is crouched beside one of the flower beds, inspecting the soil with a dissatisfied expression, while Claire gathers a few fallen stems into a basket. Celestia stands nearby, rubbing her hands together for warmth as she listens to Asma complain.

Celestia lays her hand on Asma’s shoulder, offering her a smile. “It is alright, Asma. The winter passes quickly most of the time. In no time, we will be able to plant every flower we wish.”

Elara looks down at her simple nightgown, recalling the heavy gowns and dresses waiting for her in the changing chamber. Another shiver escapes her before she returns inside, closing the balcony doors behind her. She rubs her hands together and makes her way toward the changing chamber, intending to warm the water for a quick bath before dressing.