81: The Shift

The morning sun played around the thin linen drapes of royal chamber and glided over the marble floors with soft golden hues. The air tinged with the crisp sounds coming from the city below as it woke its terrace of merchants hawking their wares, the clattering of hooves on riotous stone pathways, and the rhythmic clang of the blacksmiths hammering steel.

Alden stirred under the silk sheets, reaching instinctively toward Elara, only to find the spot beside him empty. Blinking awake, Alden got used to the brightness and propped himself up on his elbows, and then he saw her.

She stood at the window in a voluminous nightgown deep sapphire, all her hair tumbling down her back in waves. She was unnaturally still, hands resting on the windowsill as she scanned the kingdom outside. Something in the way she stood unmoving managed to send an odd chill through Alden's chest.

He softly called, "Elara," as he swung his legs over the bed and stood.

Nothing happened.

Alden slipped his arms around her waist pulling her closer into his warmth, and that first moment where skin met skin shuddered through him. She was cold. Not the necromance kind of cold of morning air, but something deeper, something unnatural.

"And Alden's so sweet," he murmured against her temple.

But she didn't move for just a heartbeat longer and finally drew slowly around to face him. A smile played at the corners of her mouth-soft, almost playful-but that smile, too, felt off.

"Well, so you're the king of this wonderful kingdom," she said with an arching of her head as if to study him the first time.

A frown crossed Alden's face at such odd phrasing. The distance in her voice, something caused the hair on his arms to stand up, but she laughed sweetly and the heat returned to her voice as she leaned into him.

"Just teasing," she added with a familiar lilt in her voice.

Alden exhaled small-smiling, perhaps he-us on the way back of his imagination. He had endured the last few weeks with great stress, and the last night had been incredible. Perhaps she was just tired, just getting used to all that they had lived through.

"Come," he said, stroking some hair from her face, "let's eat."

She nodded, and they made their way toward the adjoining chamber, where breakfast awaited them. It was a pleasant meal, if a tad strange, although Alden couldn't quite put his finger on what was different. Elara's movements were quick and certainly calculated, and whenever he spoke, his gaze stayed on her a second too long.

Perhaps she was simply mulling things over on the future of the kingdom, the pressure of her new position weighing heavily on her. Only that much, he told himself.

By midday, Alden found himself seated at the grand council table in the war chamber-a massive room lined on all sides with the kingdom's banners, and in the center, a great carved map of their lands laid across the surface of the table along which Roran and several high-ranking members of the royal guard were arguing one another.

"Our northern frontiers are still secure," said Roran, drawing a calloused finger along the map. "Nothing has moved in the wilds beyond the outpost at Valen's Pass, but rumors of trouble have begun to reach the southern territories."

Alden nodded eagerly, straining to listen while he said, "Have we sent envoys?"

"Aye," one captain spoke, "but they are yet to return. Roads are bad."

He hadn't quite finished his sentence before the heavy wood doors opened with a creaking sound, letting in Elara. A brief pause ensued while all faces turned her way.

She moved nearly without sound, and yet there was an authority inherent in that movement. Her gaze panned across the map, over the men standing around it, and finally centered on Alden.

"Then I take it that we are not discussing territorial expansion today," her voice charged lightly.

Roran exchanged a glance at Alden, then shook his head. "We are not discussing any expansion, Elara," he said. "We are just dealing with border security."

Stepping closer, she brushed her fingers lightly over the map. "You should really think about expanding," she suggested. "A bigger kingdom would be stronger and would hold our enemies back."

Slightly frowning, Alden said: "That is not how we rule. We do not conquer for the sake of power. Our strength lies in the alliances we forge, in the trust we build."

Her fingers rapped idly against the wood. "Trust?" she repeated, as if testing the word. "You waste resources helping weaker kingdoms when you could simply take what you need."

A tense atmosphere seized the room. Eyes narrowed at Alden. "That is not our way."

Elara met his gaze, an unreadable expression flickering over her emerald eyes. "You have the might to do it. If you push forward, others will succumb to your strength."

Alden straightened, his jaw tense. "Is that what you believe? That strength alone should rule?"

A small smile touched her lips. "Strength commands respect."

Roran cleared his throat, rather uncomfortably shifting in position. "My queen, we have always governed with honor; that's why our kingdom thrives."

Elara's gaze flickered to him. "Honor is noble," she replied, "but it won't keep enemies at bay."

Alden moved forward, voice low but firm. "Elara, what has gotten into you?"

For the briefest of instants something crossed her features-then her smile broke into what was almost an emotionless cool efficiency.

"I desire nothing but for the kingdom to thrive," she said smoothly. "Surely you desire the same, my king?"

Alden stared into her face, instincts telling him that something was off. This wasn't her. Elara had always been headstrong, yes, but her heart was full of compassion and a firm desire for protection.

This-that-was completely different.

Something was amiss.

But the time was not right to push, however.

"We will speak of this later," Alden said now, though gentler. His mind raced.

Elara nodded, giving the impression of being temporarily satisfied, and turned to leave. But just as she reached the doors, she paused. Without turning around, she gave one last comment.

“You should consider it, Alden. The world is not as kind as you wish it to be.”

And then she was gone, the heavy doors closing behind her.

The room was silent for a long time.

Roran was the first to break it. “My king,” he said carefully. “She… does not sound like herself.”

Alden exhaled slowly, rubbing his temple. “No. She doesn’t.”

He turned back to the map, but his mind was no longer on the borders or the reports of unrest.

His mind was on Elara.

And the unsettling, growing fear that whatever had happened to her last night…

She had not woken up as the same woman.