Elara’s pov
Inside was a single leather journal. Worn and old. The cover scuffed from years of handling.
My father’s private journal. It has been forgotten and locked all these ti here.
I lifted it out with trembling hands. Should I read it? It felt wrong. Like reading soone’s private letters.
But he was gone. And I needed him. I needed to imagine him as if he was here with .
I opened the journal.
The first entry was dated fifteen years ago. Before I was born.
I began to read.
The entries were scattered. So days he wrote pages. Other days just a few lines.
But as I read, a picture ford. Not of the strong, confident king I rembered. But of a man who doubted. Who feared. Who regretted.
"The council pressures again to raise taxes on the eastern provinces. I know it’s wrong. The people are already struggling. But Malakor insists. Says the treasury needs it. Says we have no choice."
*"I wanted to help the farrs in the south. Wanted to send them grain and tools. But Malakor said it would set a dangerous precedent. That every province would ask for help. So I did nothing. And now their children go hungry."
"I am king in na only. Every decision I try to make is blocked. Every reform I suggest is dismissed. Malakor has the real power. He always has."
Page after page. Year after year. My father’s frustration. His guilt. His sha.
He’d wanted to be a good king. Wanted to help his people. But he’d been controlled. Manipulated. Just like I was being controlled now.
I kept reading, my hands shaking.
One entry made stop completely.
"Today I made the worst mistake of my reign. I dismissed my most trusted advisor. He was loyal. Honest. Wise. But Malakor accused him of stealing from the treasury. Brought forward witnesses. Docunts. Proof."
"I believed him. Trusted Malakor’s word over my advisor’s."
*"But now I have doubts. The witnesses have disappeared. The docunts seem false. I think Malakor lied. I think he removed my advisor because the man questioned him. Because he had my ear."
"And I let it happen. I let Malakor remove the one man who could have helped stand against him."
"I am a coward. A weak king. I have failed my kingdom. Failed my people. Failed myself."
The words blurred as tears filled my eyes.
My father had known. Had known that Malakor was controlling him. Using him. And he’d felt powerless to stop it.
Just like I did.
I closed the journal and pressed it against my chest.
"I’m so sorry, Papa," I whispered to the empty room. "I’m so sorry you had to carry this alone. I miss you so freaking much. You left this kingdom to . I don’t even know what I’m doing anymore."
I sat there for a long ti, just breathing. Just feeling. Talking to my Dad’s absence.
Then I stood up. Wiped my eyes. I needed to be practical. Needed to learn. Needed to find sothing in this room that could help be a better queen than my father was a king.
I walked to the bookshelves. Pulled out volus on governance. On law. On managing a kingdom.
Maybe if I read enough, I could find a way out of this. A way to break free from Malakor’s control.
I spotted a book on the highest shelf. Sothing about trade agreents. I needed the ladder.
I pulled the rolling ladder over and climbed up. Reached for the book.
A knock ca at the door.
I jumped, startled. Lost my balance slightly.
"Your Majesty?" Kaelen’s voice ca from the other side.
I gripped the ladder. "Yes?"
"There’s a ssage for you."
"Co in," I said.
The door opened. Kaelen stepped inside, holding a sealed letter.
I turned on the ladder to look at him. Our eyes t.
For a mont, neither of us spoke. The tension from yesterday hung between us like a curtain, heavy and unyielding.
"What does it say?" I asked.
"I don’t know, Your Majesty. It’s sealed."
I nodded. "I’ll read it in a mont. Just... set it on the desk."
"Of course." He crossed the room and placed the letter carefully on the desk. He turned to leave, then paused, glancing back at , at the ladder, at the height.
"Don’t you think that’s dangerous?" he said mildly. "Allow to help you down."
"I don’t need your help. I’m fine on my own," I said, rolling my eyes.
Fate clearly had a different plan because as I reached for the next rung, my foot slipped.
I gasped. My hands lost their grip.
I fell.
But I didn’t hit the ground.
Strong arms caught , solid, unyielding.
Kaelen moved faster than I thought possible. One arm braced firmly against my back, the other locked beneath my knees, pulling flush against his chest.
My heart slamd wildly. From the fall. From the shock. From how close he was.
I looked up. He was already looking at .
Those green eyes were dark now, intent, sharp, amused. As if this outco pleased him.
"Hm," he murmured. "So this is what ’fine on your own’ looks like."
Heat crept up my neck. I rolled my eyes, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reply.
He didn’t put down.
He simply stood there, holding as if I weighed nothing. As if he had all the ti in the world.
His thumb shifted slightly against my side, not careless. Deliberate.
"You know," he said softly, a smug curve to his mouth, "you could’ve just asked for my arms. No need for theatrics."
"What do you an by asked for your–" I started, but he cut off.
His grip tightened ever so slightly, not enough to hurt, just enough to remind I was still in his arms.
"And if you keep staring at like that," he said, voice low and dangerously calm, eyes flicking to my lips, "I might steal a kiss... and more."
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