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Chapter 17- The Taste Of Fear
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2025-12-21 19:48:42
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The King's Forbidden Heir Chapter 17- The Taste Of Fear
Elara’s POV The wave of nausea hit me out of nowhere. One second, I was in the western corridor, listening to two women argue quietly about fabric deliveries, and the next, my stomach clenched violently, as if something inside me had tightened into a fist. I froze. Not now. Not here. Heat surged in my throat. I pressed my hand against my mouth and pivoted sharply, trying to move quickly without attracting attention. The corridor felt interminable, the walls seemed too close, and the air was suffocating. Somehow, I just managed to reach the alcove before it overwhelmed me. Bending forward, I clutched the stone ledge as bile surged up. My body convulsed, painfully unyielding. I gagged, fighting to keep quiet as my eyes filled with tears. This had been happening more frequently. Mornings. Late afternoons. Sometimes, it was even triggered by the smell of food. I had told myself it was all the stress. The palace life. Celene. Damon. The unending feeling of being scrut
The King's Forbidden Heir Chapter 16- Eyes In The Court
Elara’s POV The palace had recognized me. That was the first thing I sensed upon waking that morning. It was neither a shout nor an announcement—just an unspoken acknowledgment. Servants halted briefly as I walked by. Conversations dropped to hushed tones. Eyes lingered a half-second too long before darting away. Even the walls seemed to shift, as if the very hallways had started to lean in, eavesdropping on my presence. Once, not so long ago, I had called this place home before the lessons of freedom showed me that silence can be a choice rather than a burden. Back then, the palace had overlooked my existence entirely. Now, it was watching me. I dressed with care, opting for a pale blue gown with long sleeves and a high collar modest, unremarkable, and hard to fault. My reflection met me in the mirror, poised but weary. Dark circles under my eyes persisted, a testament to sleep that seemed forever elusive. As I tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear, I murmured,
The King's Forbidden Heir Chapter 15- Message From The Crown
Elara’s POV I barely had a moment to gather my thoughts before Celene’s summons arrived. A maid appeared in my doorway, her face pale with apprehension, bowing so quickly that her braid swung forward. “Your Highness… the Princess Regent requests your presence right away.” Not “invites.” Not “asks.” Requests. A chill spread through my stomach. Of course, she wanted to see me after the embarrassment in the library, Morgana’s predatory stare, the hushed whispers from the nobles, Damon coming to my rescue like a knight in shining armor. Celene must have been fuming. I adjusted my dress, squared my shoulders, and followed the maid down the gleaming stone halls. Every footstep felt like a countdown. By the time we arrived at the small council chamber, Celene’s private space...my palms were clammy. The maid bowed once more and retreated as if the room were ablaze. I stepped inside slowly. Celene stood with her back to me, gazing out the tall windows that framed t
The King's Forbidden Heir Chapter 14- Cracks In The Ballroom
Elara’s POV The ballroom was thick with the scent of roses and burning candles. Rich velvet drapes cascaded from the ceiling down to the marble floor. Emerald-hued candles flickered in gilded sconces, casting a soft glow that danced across shiny silver platters and polished goblets. This evening’s banquet was more than just a meal, it was a spectacle. Nobles from Averelle and Velmere had gathered to celebrate the anticipated unification, the promise of an engagement, the joining of two kingdoms. Soft melodies floated through the air while servants glided silently past, their footsteps muffled by the lavish carpets and opulence surrounding us. As I made my entrance, my throat tightened nervously. I was dressed in a deep burgundy velvet gown adorned with intricate silver embroidery that curled like delicate vines over my bodice and sleeves. The stylists had assured me that it would shimmer under the torchlight, making me appear regal, composed, and unattainable. A ripp
The King's Forbidden Heir Chapter 13- The Whispers That Shouldn't Be
Elara’s POV By the time Celene pulled me up to the palace’s higher levels, my heart was still racing from Damon’s words. “You have me.” Those three quiet words reverberated inside me like a heartbeat that wasn’t mine. A heartbeat I had no business feeling. Celene moved quickly, almost dragging me along the smooth corridor. I stumbled twice trying to keep pace. “Walk straight,” she snapped. “I am.....” “Don’t argue.” I fell silent. Celene only let go of my wrist when we arrived at the Mirror Chamber, a long, elegantly decorated room filled with tall mirrors, typically used for posture training and practicing public speaking for the royals. The room was mostly empty, with just two etiquette instructors and a scribe present. Celene pointed coolly. “Stand there.” I complied. She turned to the instructors. “We’ve been too lenient with her. Today she will focus on her public speaking, projection and carrying the presence of a queen.” She paused, her gaze piercing.
The King's Forbidden Heir Chapter 12- The Distance Between Us
Elara's POV I spent the entire night telling myself one simple truth: Avoid him. Stay away from Damon Valen at all costs. If I could just keep my distance, out of his sight, out of his path, then all of Celene's comments, Morgana's suggestions, and the whispers of the nobles would eventually disappear. By the time morning arrived, I had devised a plan. Not a smart plan. Just a desperate one. I would become invisible again. Just like before.Morning — A Royal Command I tiptoed into the dining hall, trying my best to blend in with the line of servants preparing breakfast. No one recognized me. Perfect. I made my way to the far end of the long table so I could eat and slip away unnoticed, but— “Elara.” Celene’s voice stopped me in my tracks. Of course it was her. I froze. She sat at the head of the table in a shimmering silver gown, sipping tea with the grace of someone who was always meant to be in the spotlight. Her expression was inscrutable. Damo
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