Chapter Twenty One: Ghost of his cruelty

The midday sun streamed through the arched windows of Kaelen's private dining room, bathing the space in a warm, golden glow. Elara sat opposite him, a delicate porcelain plate before her piled high with roasted pheasant, glazed carrots, and fluffy, herbed couscous. But her appetite was a shy thing, easily frightened.

Kaelen watched her, his usually playful emerald eyes clouded with concern. "Elara, you need to eat. For them," he murmured, gesturing lightly towards her stomach.

She picked listlessly at the pheasant with her fork. "I'm not very hungry." The words were barely a whisper. The ghost of Damon's cutting remarks about her thickening waistline lingered in her mind, a poisonous echo.

Kaelen's jaw tightened. He knew the torment her mate inflicted, the constant chipping away at her spirit. He couldn't erase all that painful experience, but he could shield her from it, even just for a little while. He reached across the table, his hand covering hers. "Then let me feed you."

Elara's eyes widened, a flicker of surprise, then apprehension, crossing her face. "Kaelen, I can't possibly..."

He ignored her protest, spearing a succulent piece of pheasant with his fork. He brought it to her lips, his gaze unwavering. "Open."

Hesitantly, she obeyed. The taste was exquisite, the pheasant tender and flavorful, but it was the intimacy of the gesture, the feeling of being cared for, that brought tears pricking at her eyes.

Kaelen saw her reaction and his heart ached. He continued to feed her, slow, deliberate bites, showering her with small, encouraging words. "That's it. Good girl. Just a little more carrot, for the little ones... they're growing fast, you know."

He made it a game, a shared secret between them, and slowly, Elara's tension eased. She began to relax, her hand resting on his arm as he fed her. She even found herself enjoying the meal, the flavors dancing on her tongue, a welcome distraction from her worries.

Just as Elara managed a small, genuine smile, a crisp knock echoed on the door. A junior palace aide, his face pale, stood framed in the doorway. "Your Highness, the delegation from the Silvermoon Pack has arrived. They request an immediate audience regarding the border dispute."

Kaelen's expression hardened, the playful warmth vanishing, replaced by the regal composure of a future king. He squeezed Elara's hand. "I'm sorry, Elara. Duty calls."

He rose, his movements fluid and graceful. "Make yourself comfortable. Explore the library, if you wish. I won't be long." But as he left, he shot a pointed look at the aide, a silent command to ensure Elara was undisturbed.

____

Two hours stretched into an eternity. Elara, feeling restless, rose and wandered over to the imposing wall of bookshelves that dominated one side of the room. The shelves groaned under the weight of leather-bound volumes, ancient tomes filled with forgotten lore, and contemporary works by renowned scholars. She ran her fingers along the spines, the gold lettering cool against her skin.

Drawn in by the sheer volume, she hesitantly pulled a book from the shelf, a slim volume bound in dark blue leather. The title was etched in silver: The Royal Grimoire of Sacred Oaths. She opened it, her eyes skimming the ornate calligraphy, the intricate diagrams filled with arcane symbols.

Suddenly, a wave of dizziness washed over her. She knew she shouldn't be touching this. This was Kaelen's, and it was obviously important. Placing it back would've sufficed, but the fear of the reprimand she'd surely receive from Damon if she damaged the book had her rooted to the spot. She'd rather ruin it than put it back anyway, she thought. She felt a rush of adrenaline just imagining what Damon would do to her if he saw her ruin an object that's valuable.

She was trembling, her hands slick with sweat. This felt... wrong. Disrespectful. What would Kaelen think? But he did permit her to explore the library if she wished. It still doesn't feel right.

The door clicked open, and Kaelen entered, his face etched with weariness. His eyes immediately found Elara, and his smile faltered, replaced by a knot of concern in his brow.

Elara blanched, the book slipping from her trembling fingers. It landed on the plush carpet with a soft thud. "I... I'm so sorry," she stammered, her voice barely a whisper. "I didn't mean to... I just... I shouldn't have touched it."

The fear in her eyes was a palpable thing, radiating outwards like a heat wave. He saw the tremor in her hands, the way she was shrinking in on herself, and his heart twisted with fury at the man who had instilled such terror in her.

He crossed the distance between them in two strides, his hands reaching for her. "Elara, it's alright. It's just a book."

"No, it's not! It's yours, and I... I had no right," she choked out, tears welling in her eyes.

Kaelen gently took her face in his hands, his thumbs wiping away the burgeoning tears. "Elara, look at me. You can touch anything you want in this room. Anything." He pulled her close, burying his face in the crook of her neck, inhaling the sweet scent of her hair. He needed to calm her down, to ground her. He pushed her face into his scent gland, hoping the familiar, comforting scent would quell her panic.

Slowly, the trembling subsided. He felt her relax against him, her breathing evening out. He held her for several minutes, just breathing her in, letting her feel his strength, his protection.

When he finally pulled away, he saw the lingering fear in her eyes and knew that words alone wouldn't be enough. He had to show her, physically, that she was safe, that she was cherished.

He scooped her up in his arms, ignoring her startled gasp. "Where are you taking me?" she whispered, clinging to him.

"To the baths," he murmured against her ear. "You need to relax."

He carried her into his private bedroom, a spacious chamber adorned with rich tapestries and soft, inviting furniture. He gently laid her on the plush chaise lounge and began to unbutton her tunic. Elara watched him, her eyes wide and questioning.

"I'm going to draw you a bath," he said softly, his fingers working on the delicate buttons. "A hot, fragrant bath. It will soothe you, calm you."

He carefully unfastened the clasp of her gown, his fingers deliberate, respectful. The fabric pooled at her feet, revealing the delicate curve of her pregnant belly. His gaze lingered there, not with lust, but with a profound sense of awe and responsibility, a silent promise of the love and protection he would offer these children. His heart swelled with tenderness. He then turned, his back to her as he swiftly unlaced his own tunic, letting it fall to the floor. He shed his breeches with equal haste, his movements economical and purposeful.

Elara found herself unable to look away, her eyes tracing the strong lines of his back, the play of muscle beneath his skin. He was a warrior, every inch of him sculpted by strength and discipline. When he turned back to her, catching her gaze, a blush rose on her cheeks. She looked away, suddenly shy, the intimacy of the moment amplified by their shared vulnerability.

He leaned down, gently cupping her jaw, bringing her gaze back to meet his. His eyes, usually sharp and commanding, were soft with emotion. "I belong to you, Elara," he muttered, his voice rough with a barely suppressed desire. He pressed a brief, tender kiss to her lips, a promise of more, a silent vow of devotion. Then, he retrieved a thick, royal blue robe embroidered with silver thread and carefully wrapped it around her, before sweeping her up into his arms and carrying her towards the bathing pool.

The sunken bath was a marvel of carved stone and shimmering mosaics, filled with steaming water infused with fragrant oils. He carefully lowered her into the water, supporting her weight, his fingers brushing against her skin.

The heat enveloped her, easing the tension in her muscles. She leaned back against the edge of the pool, closing her eyes, a sigh escaping her lips. Kaelen knelt behind her, partially submerged in the water now. He reached around her, his chest brushing against her back, the warmth of his skin radiating through the water. His strong hands began to massage her shoulders, kneading away the knots of stress and worry.

They remained in silence for a long time, the only sound the gentle lapping of the water. Kaelen occasionally added more hot water, ensuring the temperature remained perfect. He used a soft sponge to wash her back and shoulders, his touch light and reverent, each stroke sending shivers down her spine.

The intimacy of the moment hung heavy in the air, a current of unspoken desires and forbidden longings swirling between them. They were two souls caught in a web of circumstance, bound by duty and loyalty, yet drawn together by an undeniable force.

After nearly an hour, Elara's eyelids fluttered closed. Exhaustion, combined with the warm water and Kaelen's soothing presence, had finally lulled her into a state of near-sleep.

Kaelen gently lifted her from the bath, drying her with a soft towel before wrapping her back in the robe. He carried her to his bed, a massive four-poster draped in silk and velvet. He laid her down gently, tucking the covers around her.

He watched her sleep, his face etched with a mixture of longing and despair. He knew this couldn't last forever. He was playing a dangerous game, risking everything for a woman who belonged to another. But he couldn't help himself. He was utterly, irrevocably captivated by her, and he would do anything to protect her, even if it meant sacrificing everything he held dear. He leaned down and gently kissed her temple. "Sleep well, my love," he whispered. "I'll be here when you wake."