Page 17 of Lost Moon

Elara raises an eyebrow, listening attentively to the explanation. She never held any responsibilities as a princess in Veyrenn, having no duties to complete or commit to. Knowing Kaera and Cael work together indicates that a princess can actively work here. It sparks a thought within her that here, she might find a purpose for her title instead of simply wearing it as an ornament.

The farther they travel, the larger the pine trees grow, their thick branches filtering the cold sunlight and softening its reach. The crisp scent of damp earth and evergreen needles fills the air, entirely different from the choking dust of her old home. She catches small glimpses of wildlife through the thick undergrowth, noticing the sudden flash of a rabbit darting into the brush and the distant chirping of birds nesting high above. The thud of the horse’s hooves against the trail echoes through the woods, while the cool wind brushes against her face.

The dense forest eventually thins, opening into the wide paths of a bustling village situated a short distance from the castle grounds. Children’s laughter carries through the open streets, mingling with the warm scent of sweet buns and fresh fruit. Dogs bark as they race across the stone paths, chasing thrown sticks while cheerful voices call out to one another. Well-fed cats rest beneath benches and near baskets of produce, their tails flicking as they watch the passing crowd, though they slide into shaded corners at the approach of the horse.

When Cael draws the steed to a stop near the center of the market, the surrounding noise softens. Conversations trail off, and curious glances turn toward Elara. A few of the vendors and guards stationed on street duty bow respectfully at the appearance of the royals, leaving Elara acutely aware of the community observing her arrival.

Whispers ripple gently through the crowd, though none of them are secretive. “That must be her,” someone murmurs. “She is more beautiful than I expected,” another voice replies.

Elara remains still beneath their attention. A new presence, a new royal, their princess. She does not know how to greet them. She had never stood before her own people, never learned how to speak to a crowd or command their trust.

Standing among strangers now, she hesitates. She forces a small smile, though she does not speak. She does not know if she can. Cael pats the white horse, indicating for it to step forward as if he wants to avoid the crowd. The horse moves forward toward a vendor, selling freshly made buns.

As they pass, Elara hears a whisper from a girl, her braids bouncing as she looks up with wide eyes. “Mama,” she whispers, tugging at her mother’s sleeve, “look how pretty she is.” Her mother hushes her, smiling at her daughter’s innocence.

As she steps down onto the clean stone paths, the solid rows of gray and black stone buildings rise around her. Elara walks past the cottages with their sloped roofs and the narrow shops with open doors, her hand reaching out to touch the smooth wood of a stall displaying fresh bread and vibrant winter produce.

Overhead, hanging signs sway in the breeze, their painted symbols creaking. The stone beneath her feet is well worn but perfectly cared for, a testament to long-standing order that stands in contrast to the neglect she has always known. Withered vines cling to the stone walls, and frosted planters stand filled with dead leaves along the paths, confirming the harshness of the season as she moves deeper into the market.

Steam rises from the trays, curling into the air, carrying a rich, comforting scent. The vendor looks up and smiles. “Good morning, Your Highness,” he says. “Back for the sweet buns?”

Dismounting the horse, Cael turns and looks up at Elara, waiting to see if she wishes to come down. She hesitates to move, unused to the height of the grand steed and terrified to embarrass herself in front of the observing crowd. Noticing her stillness, Cael turns back to the stall without a word. He nods and offers the vendor a few silver coins that clink as they meet the man’s palm.

The vendor works, sliding three fresh buns into a brown paper bag before passing the warm package to the prince. “There you are,” he says, glancing toward Elara. “I hope you enjoy them, Your Highness. The royal family favors these.”

Cael takes the bag and, turning back to Elara, offers her one of the warm buns. She accepts it with a hesitant smile, acutely aware of the eyes still focused on her from around the crowded space. Gradually, the surrounding noise picks up again and the village returns to its familiar rhythm, though Elara still catches the occasional stare as she follows Cael down the street.

Kaera slows her steed beside them, offering Elara a quick, reassuring smile. “I must see to the textile merchants on the eastern wall,” she says. “Do not let my brother bore you to tears.”

Once his sister disappears into the crowd, Cael guides the white steed to the edge of a grassy plaza. Turning back, he extends his gloved hands to help Elara down from the saddle. She takes it reluctantly, allowing him to help her down onto the cobblestone street. Looking up, she finds Cael already studying her, his eyes soft. Elara steps back under his scrutiny, blinking as her mind reels.

A nearby bench under a winter tree provides a moment of rest, and Elara stands beside Cael while he remains occupied with his immediate duties nearby. As he reviews a ledger with a local guardsman, her attention drifts toward a man hurrying through the square. In one hand he carries a stack of papers, and in the other, a hammer. Elara watches as the man presses a notice against the trunk of a tree, driving a nail firmly through its corner before continuing to pin the pages to walls, shopfronts, and torch brackets while ignoring the protests of shop owners.

One of the sheets detaches from a post, tumbling across the cobblestones until it slides directly to Elara’s feet. Freezing in place, she glances down to reveal the very same notice the man has been hanging throughout the village. Bending down to retrieve the parchment, she guides her eyes across the written page.

A prince must speak.

Prince Cael Everhart, the silent prince of Riverath.

Does the prince think his muteness hides his weakness?

All see him. The throne cannot speak for him.

Cael Everhart will fail us.

He is only The Silent Prince for us all.

The cruel lines command Elara’s undivided attention for several long moments. Cael is mute. Everything falls into place. The silence. The careful expressions. The way others observed him. The way he communicated using hand motions.

Elara lifts her chin, her forest-green eyes tracking a sudden shift in the air until her gaze collides with Cael’s across the cobblestone square. He now stands near the threshold of the small restaurant, but his steady, untouchable composure is gone. His eyes are wide, fixed with absolute shock on the crumpled parchment held between her trembling fingers.

For a breathless moment, the raw vulnerability exposed on his features leaves her frozen. Cael’s expression turns rigid with a flash of panic. He lowers his head abruptly, his gaze darting away as he forces himself to look at the street signs.

Around her, the marketplace continues without pause. Glancing at the paper again, the reality of Cael’s life sinks into her chest. The cruel words stare back at her from the page, sharp and thoughtless. Slowly, she folds the notice against itself before setting it beside her on the bench. She finds Cael again, still standing on the threshold of the same restaurant.

A young woman approaches him from the edge of the square, her expression strained with visible distress. Her hands move anxiously as she explains a situation Elara cannot hear.

Cael’s eyes remain fixed upon the distressed woman as though every word matters. His expression is focused without the slightest trace of impatience. He responds only with a nod and a reassuring gesture of his hand before stepping into the small tavern behind them to assist with the inspection. Elara watches as his frame disappears into the entrance, leaving her to wait on the clean stone path outside.