You sit on the edge of your bed, your gaze distant, staring at the stone wall as though it might offer some comfort or answer. The weight of your thoughts presses down on you—thoughts of Elle, of her safety, of her fate. You hope she’s somewhere far from this madness, that she’s found a way to escape this life that’s been thrust upon her, a life you know all too well. You wish she could be free, free from the chains of royalty, from the expectations, from the constant battles for power.
But deep down, you know the truth—she can’t escape it. Not without risking everything. Not without drawing the attention of forces that would crush her.
And yet, you cling to that hope, that small spark of possibility that she might find a way out. You want so badly for her to live a life outside of this world of lies, manipulation, and bloodshed. But that wish, that dream, feels selfish. You don’t know if you’d survive it if something happened to her. The thought gnaws at your insides, making it harder
