Semua Bab The King's Forbidden Heir : Bab 11 - Bab 18

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

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

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,

Elara’s POV Celene was keenly observing me as I ate. Not in a blatant manner, nor was it rude. But I could feel it, her unwavering focus on my hands as I lifted the spoon to my mouth and the way her gaze lingered on my face while I swallowed. The breakfast hall was filled with a quiet calm, sunlight streaming through the tall windows and enveloping everything in a golden glow that seemed almost to mock me. I forced myself to take my time with each mouthful. As I usually would. With care. Every bite felt like I was putting on a show. “You barely ate yesterday,” Celene finally remarked, meticulously folding her napkin like a surgeon. “And today, you look unwell.” “I didn’t sleep well,” I responded, keeping my tone steady. She tilted her head, studying me. “You’ve never been one to be frail.” That word again. I held her gaze firmly. “Stress impacts people differently.” “Yes,” she replied gently. “That’s true.” Across the room, Damon stood in conversation with