The heavy door closed behind them with a soft, echoing click.
The silence that followed wasn’t peace. It was a pressure—a weight in the air that thickened with every heartbeat.
Elysia turned slowly, standing near the edge of the room, her back straight, arms loosely folded. The late afternoon sun bled through the tall windowpanes, streaking her floor in lines of gold and shadow.
Thalor stood only a few steps from the door, his expression carved in stone. Not the gentle face she rembered from childhood, not the warm, kind smile of the man who once lifted her onto his shoulders at festivals or tucked her in with stories of dragons and stars.
This was the king. Hard. Tired. Caged in duty and regret.
He didn’t sit.
He didn’t speak right away, either.
He simply looked at her, as if trying to see sothing beneath her skin.
"You were alone," he said at last, his voice low but firm. "With her. For days."
Elysia blinked. "Yes."
Thalor stepped forward. "That could’ve been dangerous."
She didn’t flinch. "It wasn’t."
"You don’t know that."
"I do."
His jaw clenched. "She’s a warlord, Elysia. A conqueror. A killer."
"And yet I’m standing here," she said, her voice sharper now. "Unhard. Whole."
"That’s not the point."
"It’s exactly the point!" Elysia snapped, taking a step forward. "She never laid a hand on in violence. Not once. She didn’t threaten . She didn’t manipulate . She didn’t do anything but talk, walk, and—" She stopped herself, biting back the rest.
Thalor’s eyes narrowed. "And?"
Elysia inhaled through her nose. "And nothing you’re imagining."
Thalor’s tone darkened. "You’re married to her."
"I know."
"You act like it ans nothing."
"It doesn’t an nothing." Her voice broke briefly, then steadied. "It ans that I’ve seen her. I’ve spoken to her. I’ve shared space with her. And I know she’s not the monster you painted her to be."
Thalor’s hands curled at his sides. "She is the reason our kingdom fell."
"She is the reason you’re alive," Elysia shot back. "You think I don’t know what this arrangent cost us? You think I don’t rember the day she stood there and gave a choice? I gave myself up to her. And I’d do it again."
His voice cracked like ice. "You shouldn’t have had to."
"I had to," she hissed. "Because you wouldn’t."
The words slapped the air between them, echoing like a bell. Thalor stepped back, his eyes wide, stunned.
Elysia kept going.
"I was the only bargaining chip she wanted. You know that. She said it. She offered peace. She offered protection. She even offered your life. All she wanted was . And you—" she choked on the word "—you hesitated."
"I was trying to protect you—"
"No. You were trying to protect your pride. You couldn’t stand the idea of giving up to her, even if it ant saving thousands. Even if it ant ending the war. You were willing to risk everything because you didn’t want to make that call."
His voice was hollow now. "I’m your father."
"And I’m your daughter." Her eyes burned. "You should’ve trusted to make the choice. You should’ve let choose her before it cost us so much."
"Cost us?" he repeated, incredulous. "You think I wanted this outco?"
"I think we could’ve avoided it."
Thalor’s composure faltered, but only briefly. He turned away, facing the far wall, fists clenched.
"She’s the enemy."
"She was the enemy," Elysia corrected.
"But she’s also the one who’s been keeping our soldiers alive. She stopped the raids. She gave our people food, safety, shelter. Tell —how many of our villages would’ve been burned if we’d dragged this war on for another month? How many refugees would’ve died?"
He turned back, eyes flashing. "You’ve gone soft for her."
"No," Elysia said coldly. "I’ve gone realistic."
He stepped toward her again, voice harsh now. "So that’s it? You’re going to play queen to the demon who invaded our lands and act like none of it matters? You’re going to laugh and flirt and plant roses while she walks free in the sa halls where your mother once ruled?"
Elysia flinched.
Thalor saw it and regretted it but the damage was done.
She stood straighter. Paler. Sharper.
"Don’t bring her into this."
"I have to," he snapped. "Because you’re not just so girl who fell for a charming smile. You’re the princess of Arvandor. Your loyalty should be with your people."
"I am loyal to my people," she growled. "But I refuse to play martyr while pretending love is treason."
The word hung in the air love.
Thalor stiffened.
Then, after a beat, he said quietly, "What about Zera?"
Elysia froze.
She had almost forgotten.
Almost.
But not quite.
Not after everything. Not after the bath, the carriage, the trail, the quiet heartbeat of a queen who had once felt like a stranger and now felt like sothing she didn’t want to lose.
"I don’t know," she whispered.
Her father didn’t speak.
"I don’t know, alright?" she said again, louder this ti, as if saying it forcefully would change the sha clawing up her chest.
"I care about Zera. I always have. But I also care about Malvoria, and I don’t know what to do with that."
"She’s your enemy."
"She’s my wife."
"That marriage was a bargain."
"It was more than that."
Thalor’s voice dropped. "What are you going to do? Go to Zera and say, ’Sorry, I fell in love with the queen who destroyed our city’? Do you think she’ll ever forgive you?"
Elysia didn’t answer.
Because she didn’t know.
Because her stomach twisted every ti she thought of Zera’s face—her smile, her strength, her trust.
Because she had spent the last few days thinking about soone else’s touch.
"I never ant for this to happen," she said, barely audible. "But I won’t pretend it didn’t."
Thalor watched her.
She looked older now. More tired. Less like a girl and more like a woman caught between two impossible worlds.
After a long pause, he shook his head.
"Do what you want," he said.
And then, turning toward the door, he added, softer than before—
"But you’re too naive."
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