chapter 4 - The Palace Has No Air

Elara’s POV

The familiar scent of the palace hit me as soon as I crossed the threshold, an odd mixture of cold stone, faded perfume, and the polished edge of judgment.

As I entered through the grand doors, a wave of pressure enveloped me. It was present in the polished marble beneath my feet, the soaring ceilings above, and in the rigid expressions of the guards who greeted me with salutes that made me feel more like an intruder than a member of the Windsor family.

A maid bowed her head.

“Princess Elara? Her Majesty wishes to see you in the main hall.”

Her Majesty.

Celene.

Naturally.

I drew in a breath, forcing a response through clenched teeth. “Lead the way.”

The vast corridor seemed to consume me, its walls lined with the stern faces of my ancestors, all of whom appeared to disapprove of my very existence. My father’s portrait was conspicuously absent. Celene had removed it years earlier.

As the maid pushed open the ornate golden doors to the main hall, I was momentarily paralyzed.

In the center of the room stood Celene, encircled by designers, tailors, jewelers, and various advisors. Her coronation gown glimmered like liquid silver, tailored to perfection. It was a whirlwind of crowning preparations, political discussions, rehearsing speeches, and media coverage.

She was clearly in her element.

But she didn’t turn around.

No smile graced her lips.

No greeting acknowledged my arrival.

Instead, she simply remarked, “You’re late.”

I blinked at her. “I just landed twenty minutes ago.”

“Twelve minutes,” she snapped, her gaze unwavering. “I have eyes everywhere.”

I clenched my jaw tightly. “Great to see you too.”

With a single wave, Celene sent the stylists scurrying away like startled birds.

Then she finally turned to face me.

No hug.

No smile.

Not an ounce of warmth.

“Elara,” she said, assessing me with a critical eye. “You look… disheveled.”

“I just got off a plane,” I countered, crossing my arms defensively.

“You look like you’ve been in a bar fight.”

Close enough to the truth.

I bit my tongue, keeping my expression as neutral as possible.

“Since you insist on living like a commoner,” Celene continued, taking a step closer, “let me remind you that royalty has standards. You will uphold them while you’re here.”

“Does that mean I should polish my shoes or bow more often? Smile even when I don’t want to?”

“Meaning,” she leaned in, her voice low and fierce, “just don’t embarrass me.”

There it was.

The real reason she had sent for me, like a package returned to sender.

“You are a Windsor,” Celene insisted, her tone tightening. “Everything you do reflects on me now.”

I laughed, the sound bitter. “I’m not the one abandoning the people I love for a crown.”

Her eyes darkened.

“Don’t bring Father into this.”

“He worked himself to death for a title you receive as if it were a trophy.”

“Enough!”

Our voices reverberated in the expansive marble hall.

We glared at each other, breaths sharp and heated against the chill in the air.

Finally, Celene broke the stare. “The Prince of Velmere arrives tonight.”

I blinked in surprise. “Tonight?”

“Yes. He requested an early meeting.”

“Why?”

Her jaw tightened visibly. “It’s a political matter. It’s none of your concern.”

I pressed my lips into a thin line.

Of course, it wasn’t my concern.

Nothing in this palace ever was, unless I made a misstep.

Celene adjusted her gown, glancing back at the mirror. “Tomorrow, we will finalize the engagement announcement. I expect you to be present. Clean. Neat. Smiling.”

“But you’re marrying someone you don’t even know,” I said softly.

“We don’t choose who we love,” she replied, “but we choose who we serve.”

A shiver ran down my spine.

Celene turned back to the mirror, a clear signal that I was dismissed.

With my hands trembling, I exited the hall.

I wasn’t sure if I was feeling anger, fear, or simply haunted by memories of the previous night.

Don’t think about him.

I shook my head.

No names.

No attachments.

No strings.

Just a mistake.

Just a stranger.

Just a night.

The hallway closed in on me as I walked. Palace staff bowed as I passed, and advisors whispered in hushed circles about the intricacies of the coronation and Velmere politics.

Everything here felt overwhelming.

Everything felt designed to trap me.

I reached my old bedroom.

The old door creaked open.

An unsettling tightness filled my chest.

It was just as I remembered, untouched, immaculate, sterile.

It was like a museum, showcasing a life I had never wished for.

I closed the door and leaned against it, feeling the weight of my breath as it hitched in my throat.

I promised myself I wouldn’t cry.

But I was fooling myself.

I sank down onto the bed, burying my face in my hands.

So much had shifted in just one day.

Liam.

The lawsuit.

The embarrassment.

Celene’s icy orders.

My forced return.

My last taste of freedom.

A stranger’s hands on my skin.

His breath trailing on my neck.

His voice, whispering that he understood the devastation of losing everything overnight.

I squeezed my eyes shut.

Forget him.

Forget it all.

Forget everything.

A sudden knock on the door jolted me from my thoughts.

“Elara?” Alaric's gentle voice floated through, the only warmth in this chilly space.

I opened the door, and he quickly enveloped me in a hug.

“You look miserable,” he murmured.

“I am.”

He sighed and ran his hand along my back. “Celene already gave you an earful, didn’t she?”

“Barely two minutes after I got back.”

He stepped back, concern etched on his face. “She’s under a lot of stress.”

“She’s unbearable.”

He offered a sad smile. “Both things can be true at the same time.”

I sank into the armchair. “So, Prince Velmere is arriving tonight?”

“Prince Damon,” he corrected me.

I shrugged. “Whatever.”

“You don’t care at all?”

“Why should I? He’s Celene’s political match, not mine.”

Alaric’s eyebrows rose a little. “I suppose that makes sense. You’ve never been one to care about royal affairs.”

“I never cared about my cage,” I whispered.

He studied me for a moment longer. “Just… try to stay out of trouble. Today is crucial for Celene.”

“I don’t cause trouble.”

He shot me a knowing look.

“Fine,” I conceded. “Sometimes trouble finds me.”

Alaric chuckled. “Now that sounds more accurate.”

He stood to leave. “Dinner is formal tonight. Wear something nice.”

“What if I don’t? Will Celene exile me?”

His smile dimmed. “Don’t joke about that.”

He walked away.

I released a shaky breath.

I wandered to the window, gazing out at the palace courtyard.

Official black cars began to arrive ,advisors, foreign diplomats, security personnel.

Velmere’s convoy would be here soon.

I watched the vehicles with mild indifference.

Not fear.

Not recognition.

Just curiosity.

Just another high-profile political event.

Just another act in Celene’s flawless life.

I had no clue that fate was inching its way into my world, quietly linking my future to a man whose name I didn’t even know…