Chapter 10- A Lesson In Royal Failure

Elara’s POV

Waking up in this palace felt stifling, but stepping into the throne hall was like being plunged into deep water.

The ceilings soared high above, adorned with gold-leaf constellations representing every monarch from the past five centuries. Sunlight streamed through tall, emerald-tinted windows, casting green ribbons of light across the marble floor.

It was strikingly beautiful.

And chilling.

Just like Averelle.

Just like Celene.

I entered quietly, hoping not to draw attention — but it seemed my bad luck had stuck around since my brother abdicated the throne.

“Elara!” Celene’s sharp tone shattered the silence. “Finally. Come over here.”

All eyes in the hall turned towards me.

Of course they did.

Celene was positioned at the far end, flanked by officials and advisers dressed in rigid robes. Damon and his delegation stood nearby, tall and composed, their expressions unreadable.

Morgana lounged against a column, observing everyone with the predatory patience of a cat.

My stomach knotted.

This wasn’t just a meeting.

It was a performance.

And I was the one on stage.

I approached Celene with caution. “What do you need?”

Her jaw tightened. “Fix your posture.”

I straightened up.

“And your hair is a mess. Tidy it up.”

I quickly smoothed down my hair, my cheeks warming under the gaze of the watching nobles.

“And don’t fidget, Elara,” she hissed. “The Velmere delegation thinks we lack discipline. You won’t give them a reason to believe it today.”

My hands froze at my sides.

Celene stepped closer, presenting me to the crowd like I was a fancy vase.

“This is my sister, Princess Elara,” she said, managing a polite but insincere smile. “She will be assisting me with the ceremonial duties leading up to the engagement.”

A whisper traveled through the hall.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Damon watching me silent, contemplative, torn.

I refused to look back at him.

Celene continued, “Today, we’ll go over court etiquette. The princess will show us what she has learned.”

My heart dropped.

“I...... I haven’t practiced......"

“You’ll be fine,” she snapped.

A servant stepped forward, placing a scroll of ceremonial vows into my hands.

For the engagement procession.

I stared at the antiquated script, the words blurry and the letters foreign. I hadn’t seen anything like this for years.

“Start,” Celene ordered.

My mouth was suddenly dry.

“I… vow…” I began slowly.

“No,” she interrupted with irritation. “Better intonation. Try again.”

Heat rushed to my face.

“I vow.....”

“Louder.”

“I vow......"

“And with some feeling, Elara. You sound half-asleep.”

Her tone tightened a knot in my chest. I tried once more.

“I vow.....”

“To whom?” she barked.

“I...... to the crown........”

Some nobles snickered softly in response.

Celene’s expression went frosty. “You’re embarrassing yourself.”

I swallowed hard.

“I vow to serve Averelle…”

“Not like that.” She turned back to the nobles. “Forgive her. She’s been away for far too long.”

Their stares felt sharper than her words.

Damon’s jaw grew tense.

Morgana wore a smirk.

Celene crossed her arms. “Continue.”

My grip on the scroll tightened, my voice trembled as I pushed through the vows. I stumbled over one of the phrases.

Celene sighed dramatically. “No, no. You’re delivering the vows like a servant, not a princess.”

A few nobles chuckled softly.

My cheeks flared with humiliation.

Anger bubbled up along with the embarrassment.

“Look at her,” a noblewoman remarked loudly. “The forgotten sister of Windsor.”

“Does she even know how to read archaic script?”

“It’s best she stays out of sight.”

I forced myself to keep going.

My voice faltered around the ancient words.

Celene moved around me deliberately. “Straighten your shoulders.”

I complied.

“Lift your chin.”

I obeyed.

“Now smile.”

I managed a shaky attempt that barely resembled one.

She snatched the scroll from my hands with a swift motion.

“It seems,” Celene announced to the room, “that my sister is in need of basic etiquette lessons. Again.”

Something inside me snapped.

“Celene,” I whispered, “please. Not here.”

Her gaze hardened.

“You are a princess,” she said firmly. “Act like one.”

My head dropped instinctively.

Not because she had the right to command respect.

But because everyone in the hall was watching me unravel.

I took a deep breath.

One breath.

Two.

Three.

Don’t cry.

Not here.

Not in front of him.

Not with Morgana lurking like a hawk, ready to pounce on any sign of weakness.

Celene returned to her throne, offering the nobles a forced smile. “Let’s continue.”

I felt myself retracting.

Shrinking down to a version of myself I despised.

I opened my mouth to speak again when—

A voice sliced through the room.

Sharp.

Decisive.

Chilly.

“That’s enough.”

My breath caught in my throat.

Damon.

Every gaze shifted toward him.

Celene stiffened. “Excuse me?”

Damon stepped forward, hands clasped behind his back, standing perfectly straight. “Princess Elara is tired. She doesn’t need to keep going.”

Heat flooded my cheeks.

No. Please, don’t stand up for me.

That would just make things worse.

Celene’s jaw tightened. “This is not your place, Your Highness.”

“On the contrary,” he replied evenly. “The engagement linking our kingdoms concerns me directly. If your sister is to support you, she must not be humiliated in front of the court.”

A hush fell over the room.

Morgana detached herself from the column, intrigued.

Celene’s eyes sharpened to daggers. “I’m teaching her.”

“You are undermining her,” Damon countered.

My knees felt weak.

No one had ever stood up to Celene like that.

Not openly.

Not so boldly.

Not with the eyes of both realms upon them.

Celene’s smile turned venomous. “You seem oddly concerned about my sister’s well-being.”

Damon’s jaw tensed.

He chose his words with care. “A future queen should not allow unnecessary cruelty in her court.”

Some nobles gasped softly.

Celene’s nostrils flared. “I am not cruel.”

“You are being… harsh.”

The tension tightened around us like a noose.

Celene stepped closer, her voice low. “And you are being disrespectful.”

“Perhaps,” Damon replied coolly, “princesses deserve respect.”

My breath hitched.

He didn’t look at me.

But I felt the weight of his unspoken thoughts.

Celene’s glare shifted to me, full of accusation.

What did you do?

How did you convince him to defend you?

What hold do you have over him?

I felt like I couldn’t breathe.

Morgana advanced, her smile gleaming. “The prince is right, Your Majesty,” she said sweetly. “If the court sees a future queen mistreating her sister, it would send quite an unfortunate message.”

Slowly, Celene turned to Morgana, fury simmering beneath her calm facade.

This was becoming a spectacle.

And it was my doing.

“I don’t need your advice, Lady Morgana,” Celene said icily.

“You may not,” Morgana replied with a gentle smile, “but the court certainly does.”

Unease rippled through the hall.

Celene was losing her grip.

Her gaze snapped back to me. “Leave.”

My heart sank. “Celene........”

“NOW.”

I flinched and stepped backward.

Before I could completely turn away, Damon’s voice found me again soft enough that only I could hear.

“Elara.”

I hesitated.

“Don’t let them break you.”

His words landed on me like a bruise.

I didn’t turn around.

I couldn’t.

I walked out of the hall with my gaze lowered, my chest tight, my hands trembling.

As soon as I entered the empty corridor, the tears I’d held back finally spilled over.

I pressed my hand against the cool stone wall, breathing unsteadily.

This place was suffocating me.

Celene. The nobles. Morgana. The weight of expectations. The blunders.

Everything.

And Damon…

He made it all the more complicated.

Because every time he looked at me that way—

I remembered last night.

I remembered the man behind the prince.

And I knew…

I was already too close to danger.

Far too close.