The capital never slept, but that night… it watched.
Lamp-lit streets, murmuring nobles, and the soft rustle of palace gossip weaving through the air like poisonous perfume. My footsteps echoed as I crossed the courtyard, leaving Wynford Manor behind.
But the cold didn't bite me.
The memories did.
The confrontation.
The truth.
Aetherion's regret pressed against my mind like a bruise I refused to touch.
I kept walking.
I had spent too much of my life drowning in other people's choices. Tonight, I would not suffocate again.
As I neared the palace gate, a familiar figure stepped out of the shadows.
Rian.
My guard.My ally.My unexpected constant.
"You were inside for too long," he said, adjusting the sword at his waist. "Should've let me come with you."
"I didn't want bloodshed," I said.
Rian raised a brow. "You think I'd kill your parents?"
"No," I said. "They'd kill you."
He smirked. "That's the closest thing to affection I'll ever get from you, isn't it?"
I didn't answer.He didn't need one.
But before we could leave, voices drifted from the street corner.
Two noble ladies, wrapped in fur, whispering behind fans.
"…I heard the prince stood outside Wynford Manor for hours…"
"…waiting for her… can you imagine?"
"…the bride he cast away…"
"…and now he wants her back?"
My heartbeat stilled.
Rian heard it too. He tensed, gaze sharpening.
They hadn't noticed us yet, too lost in the delicious thrill of scandal.
"…they say he looked furious…"
"…no, devastated—my cousin saw him. He was pale, like he'd seen death…"
"…the prince never chases anyone. Ever."
"…until now."
My breath turned thin.
Rian stepped closer. "Ignore it."
"I'm not affected," I said.
My voice sounded too steady.
Too controlled.
Too false.
Rian sighed. "…Elara."
But the whispers kept tumbling out like tiny knives.
"…if Celina finds out—"
"…Celina already threw a tantrum, I heard!"
"…imagine losing the prince after stealing him…"
"…karma is real."
"Karma has nothing to do with it," I muttered.
"It does," Rian murmured. "And it's finally catching up."
One of the ladies turned, spotted me, and visibly choked on her breath.
Her friend froze.
Their eyes widened in unison.
"El… Elara Wynford!" one whispered, like she'd seen a myth.
Rian subtly stepped between us, blocking half their view.
"Move along," he said coldly.
But they didn't move.
Their gazes crawled over me—fearful, fascinated, eager.
And that look… that exact look… used to terrify me.
Now?
It fueled me.
I tugged my cloak tighter. "Let's go."
Rian nodded and guided me through the street, away from the murmurs, away from their hungry stares—
But not away from the truth.
Aetherion's regretwas no longer a private emotion.
It was a wildfire.
And the capital was already burning.
THE NEXT MORNING
The court buzzed like a beehive the moment I stepped through the east wing.
Servants paused mid-step.Guards bowed—too deeply.Nobles stared as though unsure whether to avert their eyes or devour the spectacle.
"Elara Wynford?" one whispered.
"She came back with her head high—astonishing."
"They say she confronted her parents."
"They say the prince followed her."
"They say—"
Rumors. Thousands. Spreading like cracks in glass.
I kept my pace steady, refusing to react.
Let them talk.
Let them watch.
Let them wonder who I would become.
But halfway through the hall, a soft voice called out—
"Elara?"
I turned.
Lady Mirella, one of my old acquaintances. Sweet, timid, kind-hearted… and easily manipulated by Celina.
She approached nervously. "I… I heard rumors but I didn't believe them until I saw you here."
"Believe whatever you want," I said.
"No—what I mean is…" She swallowed. "I'm sorry."
I frowned. "For what?"
"For… not defending you when Celina spread those lies. I believed her. Everyone did. I didn't question anything. I should have."
Her voice shook. Real remorse.Different from Aetherion's—different from the empty apologies I grew up hearing.
"You were afraid of her," I said.
Mirella nodded. "I was. And I regret it."
I softened the slightest bit. "Fear makes people weak."
"And you?" she whispered. "You're not afraid anymore."
I met her eyes. "No. I'm not."
She exhaled shakily. "People are saying the prince—"
"I don't want to hear it."
Mirella quickly nodded. "O-of course. I just wanted you to know… not everyone is against you anymore."
Not everyone.
The irony made me smile faintly.
"Thank you," I said.
She bowed and left, visibly relieved.
But as she turned the corner, Rian appeared behind me.
"More gossip," he said.
"That's expected."
"And the prince?" he asked quietly.
I didn't respond.
"Right," he said. "We're ignoring him."
I huffed a soft laugh. "Something like that."
But the moment I took another step—
The court doors opened.
And everything inside me went still.
Aetherion walked through the entrance, his royal attire perfect, his posture composed, but his eyes…
His eyes searched for me instantly.
And found me.
A jolt went through the hall.Nobles froze.Servants stiffened.Rian's hand instinctively moved toward his sword, then relaxed.
Aetherion didn't care about them.
He walked straight toward me.
Not rushed.Not hesitant.
Determined.
Each step echoed like thunder in a silent storm.
"Elara," he said, stopping just in front of me.
Rian subtly shifted, ready to intervene.
But Aetherion never looked away from me.
"Can we speak privately?" he asked, voice steady.
"No," I said.
His jaw tightened. "Elara—"
"You lost the right to demand my time."
A whisper rippled across the hall.
Aetherion inhaled slowly. "Then I'll ask, not demand. Please."
Rian stepped between us. "Her answer was no."
Aetherion's gaze snapped to him—sharp, irritated. "This is between us."
"This was between you," Rian said. "Now it's not."
Aetherion's nostrils flared. "You're her guard, not her mouthpiece."
"And you're her past," Rian shot back. "Not her present."
Gasps erupted. Nobles recoiled like they'd witnessed a sword fight instead of words.
Aetherion looked ready to break something—or someone.
"Elara," he said again, softer this time, almost pleading. "Just a moment. That's all I'm asking."
Rian looked at me, waiting.
I could feel dozens of eyes burning holes into me.Waiting for me to crumble.Waiting for the old Elara.
But she was dead.
"I have nothing to say to you," I said calmly.
Pain flashed through Aetherion's eyes.
Real.Raw.Undeniable.
But before he could speak—
A familiar, venomous voice sliced through the hall.
"My prince!"
Celina.
She rushed toward him dramatically, pretending to be breathless, placing her hand against her chest like she was about to faint.
I almost laughed.
Almost.
Aetherion stiffened.
He didn't even look at her.
Celina reached him and wrapped her hand around his arm—
He pulled away.
Gasps.
Her smile twitched. "My prince… I was looking everywhere for you. I heard these outrageous rumors that you were seen—"
"Enough," Aetherion said coldly.
Celina blinked, stunned.
"I have no interest in your theatrics," he continued. "Not today."
"B-But I was worried—"
"You were not," he snapped. "You were curious. There's a difference."
The hall fell deathly silent.
Celina's face drained of color. "Aetherion… why are you speaking to me like this?"
He didn't answer her.
He turned back to me.
"Elara," he said, quieter than before, "please don't walk away from me right now."
I met his gaze.
Steady.Unbroken.Untouched by his regret.
"I already walked away," I said. "You're just late noticing it."
And with that, I turned.
Rian followed, matching my stride.
The hall parted around us like water around a blade.
Behind us, I heard Celina's breath hitch—half shock, half panic.
And Aetherion's voice, low, frustrated, hurting.
"Elara…"
But I didn't look back.
Not this time.
Not ever again.