Chapter 9- The Woman In The Shadows

Elara’s POV

I awoke with an unsettling sense that someone was looming over me.

My heart raced. I shot upright, gasping, only to find the room empty. The silence enveloped me, broken only by the soft morning sunlight filtering through the curtains. Once again, the palace gave off the impression of surveillance, but today it felt particularly intrusive.

Memories of last night’s argument flooded my mind like a sudden chill.

Damon.

The corridor.

His voice.

The earring.

A wave of guilt and fear tangled in my stomach, accompanied by an emotion I couldn’t quite identify.

This morning had to be different.

I needed to appear normal.

Unseen.

Untouched.

I slipped into a simple cream dress that made me look gentle and harmless, the version of me Celene preferred. I tied my hair back low, hidden any trace of fatigue under my eyes, and focused on taking steady breaths.

Then, there was a knock at the door.

No. Not now.

“Princess Elara? Are you awake?” a maid’s voice broke through.

“Yes, come in,” I replied.

She entered, bowing slightly. “Her Majesty requests your presence in the Sunroom.”

Celene, already?

Just perfect.

Another performance to uphold.

“I’ll be there shortly,” I said.

As the maid exited, my gaze instinctively fell to the drawer where I’d hidden the velvet pouch containing the earring. My hand lingered there, but I forced myself to turn away.

Don’t even think about it.

I stepped out into the hallway and froze.

Lady Morgana stood before me.

Tall and elegant in dark plum silk, she held herself like a statue, her expression unreadable, and her gaze sharp enough to slice through stone.

She smiled.

But it wasn’t a friendly smile.

“Princess Elara,” her voice was smooth, like chilled wine. “What a pleasure to see you awake. You seemed… distressed last night.”

Distressed?

Could she have seen what happened?

No, she couldn’t possibly have.

I plastered on a polite smile, fighting to maintain my composure. “It was a long day.”

“Hmm.” She stepped closer, examining me with a curious gaze. “You left dinner early.”

“I wasn’t feeling well,” I said, hoping to deflect.

“So was the Prince.”

I stiffened.

Stay composed.

Be careful.

“What do you mean?” I asked, feigning nonchalance.

“He departed shortly after you did,” Morgana observed. “How intriguing.”

My heart raced.

I maintained a soft, demure expression, channeling my inner princess. “I’m sure it was just a coincidence.”

Her smile widened.

“I don’t believe in coincidences, Your Highness.”

A coil of dread twisted inside me, wrapping tightly around my chest.

Before I could reply, she glided past me, her lingering perfume feeling like a warning.

“Enjoy your morning,” she murmured before disappearing down the hallway.

I remained frozen for several moments, pressing a shaking hand to my chest.

She knew something.

Not everything at least, not yet, but enough to pose a threat.

The Sunroom

Celene was already at the round glass table, sipping her tea with impeccable posture. The morning sun made her silver gown shimmer like frost. She didn’t even glance up when I approached.

“You’re late,” she stated.

“I’m actually two minutes early,” I grumbled.

“Late.”

I suppressed a sigh and took my seat.

She finally glanced up at me, her gaze probing, assessing.

“You didn’t seem like yourself yesterday,” she said directly. “Were you unwell?”

“No, just tired.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Celene.”

She drummed her manicured nails on the table. “Damon asked about you.”

My heart nearly stopped.

“What… did he say?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary,” she shrugged. “He simply inquired how long you’ve been living away from the palace. I told him three years, and he seemed surprised you had that level of freedom.”

I swallowed hard.

“And then?” I pressed quietly.

“And then,” Celene continued, “he asked if you always appeared so… fragile.”

Fragile?

I was torn between laughter and suffocation.

Celene’s eyes sharpened. “I believe he was just being polite. Not interested.”

Interested.

That word stung.

“Regardless,” she added, “you’ll accompany me to today’s meetings. The Velmere delegation wants to finalize the engagement procession.”

I stiffened. “I don’t need to be there.....”

“You do,” snapped Celene. “You’ll keep quiet and listen. No wandering around. You’ll only speak when spoken to.”

I felt my jaw tighten.

Leaning back slightly, she lowered her voice. “You have the potential to be a great ally for me, Elara. Or you could become a liability. It’s completely up to you.”

I managed to nod, forced as it was.

She beamed, clearly pleased. “Good.”

The Meeting Hall

By midday, I was regretting every decision that had led me to this moment.

The hall was crowded with officials from both kingdoms, all decked out in deep blues and shimmering golds. The table was cluttered with extensive maps and scrolls. In the center stood Celene, embodying the ideal of a queen-in-training.

And there was Damon…

He positioned himself next to his advisors, standing tall and composed, his gaze darting sharply between the speakers.

He hadn’t acknowledged me yet.

Good.

Safe.

Absolutely necessary.

I chose a seat in the corner, hoping to remain small and inconspicuous.

“Prince Damon,” began a Velmere advisor, “the engagement ceremony will proceed in the traditional manner.......”

Damon replied with curt professionalism.

Cold.

Detached.

Exactly what I needed from him.

I shouldn’t have felt a twinge in my chest at that.

I shouldn’t have felt anything at all.

But then he finally glanced my way

Our eyes met, if only for a fleeting moment.

And I gasped, caught off guard.

It was just the briefest recognition, a flicker that felt like a caress.

I quickly looked away, my cheeks aflame.

Celene appeared oblivious.

But Lady Morgana was not.

Her gaze honed in on Damon’s fleeting acknowledgment, then shifted to me, before returning to him.

Slowly, a contemplative smile stretched across her face.

No.

Not this.

Please, no.....no

Morgana leaned in to whisper to one of the Velmere advisors. He stiffened under her words before nodding.

A chill crept up my spine.

She was watching me.

Calculating.

The kind of person who could dismantle lives with a mere whisper.

This was the first sign of danger.

It hung in the air like poison.

After the Meeting

As the crowd began to disperse, I sprang to my feet, desperate to escape before Damon could reach me.

“Elara.”

I froze at the sound of his voice.

Turning slowly, I saw him standing a few paces away, hands clasped behind his back, expression carefully neutral, his posture perfect for anyone observing.

But his eyes…

They revealed everything he couldn’t express in words.

“Your Highness,” I managed to say softly.

A muscle flickered in his jaw when I used the title.

“We… need to talk,” he said hesitantly.

“No,” I whispered, shaking my head. “It’s not possible.”

“Elara.....”

“We agreed on no names, no consequences.”

“That was before.”

“Before you were engaged to my sister,” I hissed.

Silence stretched between us, heavy and tense.

He exhaled slowly. “I didn’t make this choice.”

“Neither did I.”

We stood there, our tangled fates intertwined from one reckless night.

Then, like a knife slicing through the tension, a voice interrupted us.

“How charming.”

Lady Morgana.

Her slow, predatory grace sent shivers down my spine as she approached.

“Your Highness,” she addressed Damon, her tone a silk-wrapped blade. “You seem quite taken with Princess Elara.”

His expression darkened, though he maintained his composure.

“I was only being courteous,” he stated.

“Mm.” Morgana’s smile widened. “Of course.”

Her gaze lingered on me, unsettlingly.

“Be careful, Princess,” she murmured just loud enough for me to hear. “Some men have a habit of collecting things they shouldn’t touch.”

My breath hitched.

Damon tensed, sensing the underlying threat even if he didn’t fully grasp it.

“Is there a problem?” he asked coldly.

“None at all,” she replied sweetly. “At least, not yet.”

Then she glided away, leaving a chill in her wake.

A sense of dread curdled in my stomach.

One undeniable truth lingered:

Morgana had seen everything she needed to wage her war.

I retreated to my room, heart racing and hands trembling uncontrollably. I pressed my palms against the bedpost, trying to steady myself.

He wanted to talk.

He wanted something from me.

He wasn’t going to back off.

And now Morgana had her eyes on us, sharp, calculating, and ruthless.

I sank onto the edge of my bed, feeling overwhelmed.

Everything was unraveling faster than I could process.

All I could manage was to whisper to myself:

“This can’t continue.

This can’t happen.

This… is dangerous.”But the truth was simple:

Damon Valen was already a storm in my life.

And storms don't ask permission to destroy things

They just come