[POV Liselotte]
A few hours later
Whirikal didn’t know how to keep secrets.
Not when sothing like this happened.
The streets surrounding the central square were buzzing from early on, even more than usual. rchants spoke to one another in hurried murmurs as they arranged goods no one seed to be looking at. Adventurers stopped at street corners, pretending to review contracts they had already read, just to listen a little longer. Civilians walked with their heads lowered, exchanging quick, nervous words, as if afraid that the very air might betray them.
Everything revolved around a single na.
Leah.
I could feel it on my skin.
In the way glances slid toward us as we passed. In how so people lowered their voices when they recognized us, while others fell completely silent. It wasn’t the silence of respect. It was a silence loaded with expectation, speculation, fear, and fascination intertwined.
“Did you see her?”
“They say the artifact doesn’t make mistakes.”
“Alba Whirikal… that can’t be a coincidence.”
“So the rumors were true.”
“The lost princess…?”
There was no need to finish the sentence. Everyone knew how it ended.
I walked beside Leah, just half a step behind her, watching every one of her movents with almost painful attention. She tried to appear calm. She really tried. But I knew her too well. Her breathing was shallower than usual. Her hands, hidden beneath her cloak, slowly clenched and unclenched, as if she needed to remind herself that she was here, that this was real.
Chloé walked on her other side.
Her white tail moved slowly, stiffly, betraying a tension she rarely allowed to show. Her ears remained upright, constantly turning to catch sounds, words, any hint of danger. It wasn’t just caution.
It was pure protection.
And …
My chest felt too full.
Too heavy.
It was as if every rumor I heard, every whisper naming Leah as a princess, as an heir, as sothing that belonged to a crown… tore a little air from my lungs. Not because I doubted her. I never would.
But because I knew what it ant.
Distance.
Change.
A world that no longer belonged to us.
“They’re talking louder today,” I murmured, unable to stop myself.
Leah didn’t look at , but she answered.
“Yes. They’re not trying to hide it anymore.”
“Does it bother you?”
She took a few seconds before replying.
“I don’t know. It scares more than I’d like to admit.”
Chloé spoke then, her voice low and firm.
“It doesn’t matter what they say. It doesn’t change who you are.”
Leah smiled faintly.
“Thank you.”
We kept walking.
That was when I saw them.
Royal guards.
Not adventurers. Not city militia. They were unmistakable. Polished armor bearing the royal emblem engraved on the chest, deep blue cloaks trimd in gold. Their re presence made the crowd part before them, as if the ground itself pushed people aside.
And at their center…
The king.
He wasn’t wearing a crown.
He didn’t need one.
His bearing was enough. Tall, straight-backed, dark hair lightly streaked with gray. His gaze swept across the square with calculated coldness, assessing every face, every reaction. When his eyes settled on Leah, the world seed to stop.
I felt it.
An invisible pressure rippled through the air, like a taut thread on the verge of snapping.
The king stopped.
Leah did too.
For one eternal second, neither of them spoke.
Then he did.
“Leah.”
His voice was deep, authoritative. Not a question.
“Co with . Now.”
The tone allowed no argunt.
I felt Chloé tense imdiately, her body shifting slightly forward, like a living wall. I reacted without thinking, stepping closer to Leah.
She, however, lifted her head.
“For what?”
The king frowned, clearly surprised by the reply.
“To talk. In private.”
“They’re coming with .”
Silence fell completely.
I could hear my own heartbeat.
The guards glanced at one another, uneasy. The king narrowed his eyes, his expression hardening.
“This is not a request.”
His gaze pinned and Chloé.
“You two are not necessary.”
Chloé stepped forward.
“I’m not leaving.”
I did the sa.
“Neither am I.”
The king advanced then, his gesture sharp. He extended his hand as if to shove us aside without hesitation. The movent was fast, authoritarian, born of lifelong obedience.
But he didn’t touch us.
“Stop.”
Leah’s voice cut through the air.
I had never heard her like that.
It wasn’t a shout. It wasn’t a plea.
It was an order.
The king froze.
Leah took a step forward, placing herself in front of us, her back straight, her eyes locked on him.
“They co with . Or there will be no conversation.”
A murmur swept through the square.
My throat tightened.
“Leah…” I whispered, almost without realizing it.
She didn’t turn, but her hand found mine for an instant. That brief contact held together more than any words could have.
The king studied her for several long seconds.
I saw sothing cross his face.
Anger.
Wounded pride.
And sothing deeper.
Finally, he exhaled sharply.
“Do as you wish.”
He turned abruptly and began to walk away.
The guards imdiately reorganized, clearing a path.
We followed him.
Every step felt heavy. Not from physical exhaustion, but from the emotional weight pressing down on us. The square fell behind us, but I could still feel the stares burning into our backs.
We passed through a side corridor that led to one of the eting rooms adjoining the main building. The contrast was imdiate. The noise vanished, replaced by a dense, almost reverent silence. Pale stone walls were adorned with ancient tapestries depicting battles, coronations, treaties.
History.
Power.
Expectation.
The doors closed behind us with a dull thud.
The king walked to the center of the room, then stopped.
“Wait here.”
The guards remained near the entrance.
The king turned to Leah.
“This is a matter between you and .”
Leah took a deep breath.
“No.”
His jaw tightened.
“Leah.”
“I already told you.”
She took a step toward us, positioning herself between Chloé and , as if her re presence could protect us.
“They stay.”
I felt a knot form in my chest.
Part of wanted to disappear. Not because I didn’t want to be there. But because I knew that decision—her firm refusal—was tightening threads that might snap forever.
The king watched her.
Then, slowly, he nodded.
“Very well.”
The tone wasn’t conciliatory.
It was restrained.
He moved to the central table and placed his hands on its polished surface.
“Then let’s talk.”
Leah didn’t move imdiately.
Instead, she leaned slightly toward and whispered.
“Lotte…”
“I’m here.”
“What do you think is going to happen?”
I swallowed.
I didn’t want to lie to her.
I didn’t want to scare her.
“I think…” I murmured, stepping a little closer, “…that no matter what happens, you’re not alone anymore.”
Her eyes shone.
Chloé leaned in slightly as well.
“No matter what he says. It doesn’t change anything between us.”
Leah closed her eyes for a mont.
Breathed.
And then, she took the first step toward the king.
I stayed where I was, watching her.
That girl I had t as just another adventurer. That woman who had fought, bled, doubted, and kept going. That person now walking toward a truth that could redefine her entire life.
And I felt, with painful clarity, that we were standing on the edge of sothing enormous.
Sothing that could break us.
Or bind us together forever.
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