Chapter 26 Almost normal
Elara didn’t realize she’d stopped walking until the pressure built behind her knees, muscles locked as if her body had decided for her.
The whispers from the maids buzzed around her like insects, petty, biting, and yet somehow sharp enough to make her chest tighten. She didn’t care. Or maybe she did care, but it wasn’t about the maids ignoring her. It was the thought that Ronan might have someone else. That idea made her shiver.
Faye, the auburn-haired maid assigned to her, hissed under her breath. “Are we being paid to gossip or to work?”
The group froze, but the curly-haired maid, arms crossed, smirked. “Oh, Faye, don’t get your skirts in a twist. Some of us just notice things others don’t. Like how she barely knows the palace, barely knows anyone.”
Faye’s jaw clenched. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”
The curly-haired maid let her eyes flick to Elara. “It means… well, some people aren’t made for this kind of life. She’ll be overwhelmed. Watch her walk, it’s like she’s afraid to take up space.”
Elara’s stomach dropped hard. Her fingers curled inward on instinct, nails pressing into her palms as if she could fold herself smaller.
Her wolf stirred, bristling. "Someone get this girl."
Liora, the more composed of the two maids, stepped closer, her voice low but sharp. “Kira, you’re pushing your luck, and you might regret it.”
Faye’s fingers flexed at her sides. “Focus on your work. Stop sneaking insults like a coward. At least she's the queen's guest, and you’re nothing but a clean up maid.”
Kira’s lips curled downwards into a thin line. “You... She’s barely able to walk properly. Look at her. She reeks of tainted blood! Being a guest of the moon goddess herself wouldn't change the fact that this thing here is not pure!”
Elara flinched, a chill running down her spine. She had been called worse, but the words still cut. She swallowed hard and lifted a hand slightly, forcing a small, polite smile. “It’s… not worth it. I’ve survived worse.”
Faye’s chest heaved with controlled fury, and Liora’s jaw tightened. Both were ready to lash out, the tension between the maids palpable.
Kira snorted. “Suit yourself. But some people never learn to stand tall. She’ll see soon enough. Looking at you now, I think I prefer Lady Pandora to be my Queen.”
Elara’s wolf growled softly, a warning in her mind. Elara’s shoulders stiffened, her hands gripping the fabric of her dress. She felt exposed, like everyone was watching her every reaction, weighing her.
Faye’s voice cut through the murmurs sharply. “Enough. Let’s move. The Queen won’t wait forever.”
Elara nodded slowly, forcing herself to take a step forward. Her wolf hummed low in approval. Even in silence, she felt a spark of strength within her.
The maids flanked her as they walked, the tension between Faye and the curly-haired maid simmering like a powder keg. Elara’s senses were on edge. Every whisper, every glance, every slight movement of the maids around her heightened her awareness.
\---
The dining hall doors loomed ahead, tall and heavy, carved from dark oak traced with silver-veined sigils. Even closed, the space beyond felt vast.
Elara slowed without meaning to.
Liora noticed immediately and stepped closer, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s only Her Majesty,” she reassured. “No council. No court.”
That helped. A little. When the doors opened, the hall was quiet. Not empty, but still.
A long table stretched through the center of the room, but only two places had been set. One at the head. One beside it. Sunlight spilled through high windows, catching in crystal and polished stone, warming the space without overwhelming it.
No crowd. No watching eyes. Just Arwen.
Relief hit so fast her legs wobbled, forcing her to grip the chair back for balance before anyone noticed.
Arwen rose as soon as she saw her. “Good morning, Elara.”
Her voice echoed softly, not sharp, not commanding. Welcoming.
“You look well today.”
Elara dipped her head automatically. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”
Arwen waved it away as she approached. “Sit. Please. This is not a performance.”
Elara obeyed, easing into the chair with care. Her hands hovered uncertainly over the table’s edge.
The food was simple. Bread still warm. Fresh fruit. Light broth. Nothing heavy. Nothing excessive.
Intentional.
Faye and Liora took their places behind her, silent and alert.
Elara hesitated.
Lyra stirred gently inside her, a quiet presence rather than a push.
"We are safe," Lyra murmured. "Just eat already."
She hesitated.
Faye leaned in, whispering, “Start small.”
Elara nodded and reached for a piece of bread, hands shaking enough that she almost missed the plate.
Arwen noticed. She always noticed.
“No rush,” Arwen said gently, taking her own cutlery. “No one here is keeping score.”
Elara took a bite.
Warm. Soft. Real.
Her shoulders lowered a fraction without her realizing it.
“Good,” Arwen said, as if she’d seen the change. “You slept?”
Elara swallowed. “A little.”
“That’s enough for now.” Arwen poured tea into Elara’s cup herself. “We’ll take the day slow. I thought we’d start with a walk-- nothing formal. The rose gardens, the training grounds. Let you see the place without ceremony breathing down your neck.”
Elara hesitated. “The… training grounds?”
“Yes,” Arwen said easily. “You’ll see our warriors at work. It’s part of understanding who we are.”
The word we landed softly.
Elara nodded. “Okay.”
Breakfast continued in small pieces. Arwen pointing out dishes, Elara listening more than speaking, the maids behind her like quiet anchors. Some of the staff still watched her, some openly, others with thinly veiled distaste, but no one spoke out of turn.
Afterward, Arwen rose. “Come. Before you decide this place is nothing but stone and stares.”
The corridors beyond the hall were quieter. Sunlight streamed through high windows, warming the stone beneath Elara’s feet. Outside, the palace opened into movement and sound.
The training grounds were alive.
Steel rang against steel. Warriors sparred in pairs, their movements sharp and disciplined. Sweat, earth, and leather filled the air. When they noticed Arwen, they bowed. When they noticed Elara, some hesitated and then followed suit.
Lyra hummed, pleased.
“They train every morning,” Arwen explained. “Discipline keeps us grounded.”
Elara watched, transfixed. There was something honest about it. No pretending. No smiles required.
From there, the gardens felt like another world entirely. Roses, moonbloom, herbs she didn’t recognize. Elara brushed her fingers along a petal, startled by how alive it felt.
“This place is…” she searched for the word. “Different.”
Arwen smiled. “Yes. And it can be yours, if you let it.”
Elara opened her mouth to respond and then closed it again.
She didn’t want to go back inside just yet.
The thought of returning to stone walls, of waiting, of being watched… it made her chest tighten.
And then, unbidden, another thought slipped in.
Lady Pandora.
Sooner or later, she would see her. Everyone else already had. The commander. The ally’s daughter. The woman who fit.
Elara inhaled slowly.
“I know this might sound strange,” she said carefully, “but… would it be possible to see more than just the palace?”
Arwen studied her. “What do you mean?”
Elara’s fingers twisted together. “The town. Just for a bit. I don’t want to hide up here all day. And I don’t think staying inside will help when…” She trailed off, then shook her head. “I just don’t want my first impression of this place to be fear.”
That was honest.
Arwen considered her for a long moment. Then she turned sharply. “Captain.”
A tall Lycan in dark armor stepped forward at once. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Have a carriage prepared. Light escort only. We’ll go to the square.”
The captain blinked. “The square?”
Arwen’s gaze was steady. “Yes.”
“…As you wish.”