The carriages wait at the foot of the steps, their wheels half-buried in snow. The royal guards stand in formation, cloaks whipping in the cold wind, horses snorting clouds of frost.
Elsie draws her cloak tighter around her shoulders, the collar rising just enough to brush against the tender mark on her neck. It still throbs—faint, constant, as if Ace's presence is stitched into her skin.
She's going to her home for the last time. Now, she's the girl of this Kingdom, by the sunrise she will be ready to depart. But Elsie doesn't know she will ever truly be ready to leave here for a foreign land.
Savannah is home.
And yet, not for long.
🤍
The great hall is alive with sound—clattering goblets, the sweep of violins, laughter that crashes like waves against Elsie's ears. She sits at the high table beside Ace with a barely there smile on her face, her body stiff in the heavy silk gown that drapes her shoulders.
"Your Majesty, another toast?" a noble calls, raising his goblet toward Ace.
Ace bows his head politely, his voice carrying over the din. "To Savannah. To bonds that unite kingdoms."
The table cheers. Wine spills. Elsie forces a sip of her own, though the sweetness of it almost feels bitter in her mouth.
Her gaze drifts across the hall, over familiar faces blurred by distance and candlelight. Nobles dancing. Servants moving quickly with silver trays. Her father speaking in low tones with the Queen. And Celia—always Celia—watching her with sharp, unflinching eyes.
The heat of the room makes Elsie feel suffocating in her heavy gown. The mark at her throat pulses faintly, a second heartbeat reminding her she is no longer hers alone. She's his.
Elsie shifts, setting her goblet down with a soft clink. Ace's eyes flick to her immediately, catching the subtle tremble in her hand.
"Are you unwell?" he asks, low enough for only her to hear.
"No," she says quickly, though her voice wavers. "I just… need some air."
He studies her a moment longer, unreadable as always, then nods his head once. "Go. But don't stay away long. They'll notice."
Elsie rises, her chair sliding back with the faint scrape of wood against marble. A few eyes snap at her, but she dips her head into a bow gracefully to excuse herself, slipping through the archway at the edge of the hall.
The noise dulls behind her as she steps into the corridor, where the lanterns burn softer, the air cooler. She breathes deep, unclenching her hands from the grown. Her heart hammers still, too heavy, too loud.
Her feet know where to take her.
Through winding halls, past the painted doors and tapestries, until she reaches the chamber where she knows Misae will be waiting—because Misae always waits. Always has.
Elsie pauses with her hand against the doorframe, chest rising and falling. She thinks of the moment years ago, when the news first broke of her betrothal to Lievca's king. She remembers collapsing into Misae's arms, ruined with dread, very certain her life was over.
And she remembers Misae's voice, low and steady against her ear: This will not be your end, my little bird. Everything that breaks you today may be what saves you tomorrow.
A tear slips down her cheek before she even opens the door.
"Mother?" she whispers.
The woman is already waiting. Misae bows her head lightly before hurrying forward, her hands warm as they take Elsie's trembling ones. Her dark hair is streaked with silver, her face lined not from age but from years of worry and kindness.
"I knew you would come, my little bird," Misae murmurs, cupping Elsie's cheek. "You look so tired."
Elsie gives her a tightlipped smile. "I should be happy, shouldn't I? The whole Kingdom is celebrating."
"Celebrations are for the people," Misae says, guiding her gently into her chamber. "But for the heart… it is different." She closes the door behind them, muffling the feast's music into nothing.
Elsie sinks onto the cushioned bench near the window. The night air drifts in, cool and sharp, carrying with it the faint sound of drums from the distant village. Her throat tightens. "When Father told me about the marriage… when I thought I would have to marry him… I thought my life was over."
"I remember." Misae sits beside her, folding Elsie's hands into hers. "You cried until your body gave out in my arms."
A wet laugh stumbles out of Elsie's mouth, fresh tears springing to her eyes. "And you kept telling me it was for the good of Savannah. That he wouldn't be the monster they say he is. That I would live."
"Because it is the truth," Misae insists, nodding her head. She brushes a strand of hair from Elsie's face the way a mother might. "Rumors are woven from fear, and fear always makes the tale darker than it is. A King may be stern, even ruthless—but I have seen how he looked at you tonight. Not like a man who wishes to destroy, but like one who has found something he cannot afford to lose."
Elsie shakes her head, her voice trembling. Impossible, she thinks. "But what if the rumors about the late Queen are true? What if…" She trails off, pressing her palm to her neck where the mark still burns faintly. "…what if I end up just like her?"
Misae reaches forward and takes Elsie's shoulders in her hands. "Listen to me, Elsie Isadora. You will not die by his hands. You will not vanish into the shadows of a story that belongs to someone else. You are stronger than you think, and he is not the monster they paint him to be. Even monsters are not born—they are made. And perhaps he is a man waiting to be unmade."
Tears slip down Elsie's cheeks before she can stop them. She leans into Misae's embrace, her forehead pressed against the woman's shoulder, breathing in the familiar lavender scent of her robes. For a moment, she is no Queen, no wife—only the frightened girl who once wept in these same arms when the world felt too cruel.
"I don't want to leave you," Elsie whispers, voice breaking, but not more than her heart does.
She doesn't want to leave her mother.
"I know, my bird." Misae strokes her hair, her voice low, steady, unshaken. "But no matter where you go, I am with you. Every prayer I speak, every thought I carry—it will follow you across the sea. And one day, when you return, I will still be here. Waiting."
Elsie clings to her, her sob muffled against Misae's shoulder. "Don't ever forget me."
Misae kisses her hair. "No one could ever forget you."
The feast roars on in the distance, but here, in Misae's arms, Elsie finally lets herself break.