Page 77 of Lost Moon

Elara’s breath leaves her lungs at the sudden revelation. Her legs weaken under the weight of the words, her world fracturing while her vision blurs. Tears swell in her eyes, streaming down her cheeks in heartbreak.

Kaera looks at her with shock.

“You are lying,” Elara whispers, her voice cracking from the depth of her devastation. “My mother would never do that.”

Queen Maereth takes another step forward, her velvet gown sweeping across the stone floor with a slow pace to cement her triumph over Elara’s tears. “She did that very thing,” she says, smoothing the elegant silk of her bodice. “Your mother knew the reality of our court expectations. She knew the crown requires discipline and bitter sacrifices, not soft sentiments for fragile girls. She planned this alliance for the coin and your kingdom’s future success with your father long prior to her death, when you were still too young to understand the value of a treasury. She penned her signature alongside his seal because she desired the stability of our wealth over your comfort. She bartered you to a silent prince to ensure your crown remained funded, leaving you to handle the heavy duties she selected for your future.”

The words strike Elara with such force that she forgets to breathe. She wants to reject them, to call them another cruelty from a woman who has hated her since before they ever met, but the certainty she reaches for refuses to come.

Then, she recalls a distant glimpse of a childhood memory. She remembers her mother sitting by the desk in Veyrenn a few months prior to her death, her fingers trembling over a parchment scroll. Elara was five years old, watching from the doorway while the wax seal cooled on the document. Her mother turned, the stroke of her fingers against Elara’s small cheek feeling more like a plea for forgiveness than a maternal blessing.

“I am so sorry, Elara. It had to be done.”

The words echo across the years, fitting into place with devastating clarity while Maereth’s cruel triumph rings true. Before she can utter another word, the silence of the watching vanguards outside shatters. The thunderous clatter of heavy leather boots echoes from the stone corridor, rushing toward the open threshold.

Cael is here.

XXIX

THEIR SHARED SILENCE

C

Cael rushes between Elara and his stepmother.

Kaera’s eyes are wide with fear, tears streaming down her cheeks as she holds the stacks of canvases tightly against her chest. Behind him, he can feel Elara’s weakness without needing to turn toward her, the tremor in her breathing telling him all he needs to know.

Forcing himself to maintain his composure, his eyes glare down into Queen Maereth’s. A moment passes, and she lets out a chuckle.

“This does not concern you,” she spits, her gaze snapping to him. “You dare to stand there and play the protector after what occurred yesterday? Your father lies in his bed gasping for his life because you dragged him onto that stone platform, exposing our court vulnerability to the crowd. Your voiceless nature makes this kingdom look weak to our enemies, inviting the very chaos that breached our gates. You are a defect to this lineage, a prince who cannot even shout a command, and you rush in here to shield a useless Veyrenn bargain.”

Cael’s arms hang at his sides, his expression giving nothing away as he remains between her and the bed. He keeps his attention on her, refusing to give her the satisfaction of seeing him lose control.

“You have no voice to command respect, and you have no right to interfere,” she continues, her elegant velvet gown rustling as she glares at his un-gloved hands. “All you ever bring to this palace is destruction. You cannot even speak to defend your own title, let alone a princess who brought a lethal curse into our home. You are nothing but a burden to your father’s health, and your pathetic attachment to her changes nothing. Move out of my sight before I have the vanguards remove you myself.”

Failing to provoke a reaction from him, Maereth shifts her focus, her glassy glare piercing past his shoulder to anchor onto Elara. “And you sit there weeping for a mother you think was innocent,” she sneers, her voice dropping into a razor-sharp whisper.

Queen Maereth turns to Elara. “Look at yourself, Elara. You are nothing but a paid transaction to keep your father’s court from collapsing, a pretty distraction sent here to bleed while your home kingdom thrives on our gold. Your mother knew exactly what awaited you, she signed your misery away for a chest of silver.”

He can feel the devastating impact of the words on Elara behind him. He takes a step back, his body a physical shield for Elara. The desperation to turn and hold her is overwhelming, but he knows better than to be distracted.

Queen Maereth lunges forward to shove her weight against his chest and clear her path to the mattress.

Cael’s hand snaps forward, fingers clamping around her slender wrist to stop her striking him across the face. He does not tighten his grip, yet a red mark appears on her pale skin. He maintains his hold on her, releasing her wrist only when she understands he will not allow her to touch Elara.

“Release me,” Queen Maereth demands, her voice dropping into a deadly whisper as she glares down at her wrist.

Cael maintains his grip for one second longer, before his fingers uncoil and slide back to his side. She pulls her arm back, refusing to show a single trace of physical weakness despite the swelling color on her skin.

“Mother, please, stop,” Kaera begs from the corner. “She does not deserve this. Please, just leave her alone.”

Queen Maereth turns her head, her focus landing on her daughter. “And you sit here coddling her like a broken doll, taking habits from a useless prince who cannot even speak to defend his own title. Look at Cael. He stands there like a mute monster who can only offer you violence and silence. You degrade your own bloodline by weeping for his tragic attachments.”

She turns her stare back to Elara, her posture locking into a rigid line of triumph.

“You insult my presence, mock my worth, glare at me, and speak in such a malicious way about my mother,” Elara says, her eyes wide with pain and anger while tears stream down her red cheeks. “You do not carry the title of a great mother either. You insult Cael and Kaera with your cruelty.”

Cael’s heart beats quicker at the sight and her words. Her hands grip Kaera’s bedsheets, unable to find strength on her own frame.