Elara's pov
Inside was a single leather journal. Worn and old. The cover scuffed from years of handling.
My father's private journal. It has been forgotten and locked all these time here.
I lifted it out with trembling hands. Should I read it? It felt wrong. Like reading someone's private letters.
But he was gone. And I needed him. I needed to imagine him as if he was here with me.
I opened the journal.
The first entry was dated fifteen years ago. Before I was born.
I began to read.
The entries were scattered. Some days he wrote pages. Other days just a few lines.
But as I read, a picture formed. Not of the strong, confident king I remembered. But of a man who doubted. Who feared. Who regretted.
"The council pressures me again to raise taxes on the eastern provinces. I know it's wrong. The people are already struggling. But Malakor insists. Says the treasury needs it. Says we have no choice."
*"I wanted to help the farmers in the south. Wanted to send them grain and tools. But Malakor said it would set a dangerous precedent. That every province would ask for help. So I did nothing. And now their children go hungry."
"I am king in name only. Every decision I try to make is blocked. Every reform I suggest is dismissed. Malakor has the real power. He always has."
Page after page. Year after year. My father's frustration. His guilt. His shame.
He'd wanted to be a good king. Wanted to help his people. But he'd been controlled. Manipulated. Just like I was being controlled now.
I kept reading, my hands shaking.
One entry made me stop completely.
"Today I made the worst mistake of my reign. I dismissed my most trusted advisor. He was loyal. Honest. Wise. But Malakor accused him of stealing from the treasury. Brought forward witnesses. Documents. Proof."
"I believed him. Trusted Malakor's word over my advisor's."
*"But now I have doubts. The witnesses have disappeared. The documents seem false. I think Malakor lied. I think he removed my advisor because the man questioned him. Because he had my ear."
"And I let it happen. I let Malakor remove the one man who could have helped me stand against him."
"I am a coward. A weak king. I have failed my kingdom. Failed my people. Failed myself."
The words blurred as tears filled my eyes.
My father had known. Had known that Malakor was controlling him. Using him. And he'd felt powerless to stop it.
Just like I did.
I closed the journal and pressed it against my chest.
"I'm so sorry, Papa," I whispered to the empty room. "I'm so sorry you had to carry this alone. I miss you so freaking much. You left this kingdom to me. I don't even know what I'm doing anymore."
I sat there for a long time, just breathing. Just feeling. Talking to my Dad's absence.
Then I stood up. Wiped my eyes. I needed to be practical. Needed to learn. Needed to find something in this room that could help me be a better queen than my father was a king.
I walked to the bookshelves. Pulled out volumes on governance. On law. On managing a kingdom.
Maybe if I read enough, I could find a way out of this. A way to break free from Malakor's control.
I spotted a book on the highest shelf. Something about trade agreements. I needed the ladder.
I pulled the rolling ladder over and climbed up. Reached for the book.
A knock came at the door.
I jumped, startled. Lost my balance slightly.
"Your Majesty?" Kaelen's voice came from the other side.
I gripped the ladder. "Yes?"
"There's a message for you."
"Come in," I said.
The door opened. Kaelen stepped inside, holding a sealed letter.
I turned on the ladder to look at him. Our eyes met.
For a moment, neither of us spoke. The tension from yesterday hung between us like a curtain, heavy and unyielding.
"What does it say?" I asked.
"I don't know, Your Majesty. It's sealed."
I nodded. "I'll read it in a moment. Just… set it on the desk."
"Of course." He crossed the room and placed the letter carefully on the desk. He turned to leave, then paused, glancing back at me, at the ladder, at the height.
"Don't you think that's dangerous?" he said mildly. "Allow me to help you down."
"I don't need your help. I'm fine on my own," I said, rolling my eyes.
Fate clearly had a different plan because as I reached for the next rung, my foot slipped.
I gasped. My hands lost their grip.
I fell.
But I didn't hit the ground.
Strong arms caught me, solid, unyielding.
Kaelen moved faster than I thought possible. One arm braced firmly against my back, the other locked beneath my knees, pulling me flush against his chest.
My heart slammed wildly. From the fall. From the shock. From how close he was.
I looked up. He was already looking at me.
Those green eyes were dark now, intent, sharp, amused. As if this outcome pleased him.
"Hm," he murmured. "So this is what 'fine on your own' looks like."
Heat crept up my neck. I rolled my eyes, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reply.
He didn't put me down.
He simply stood there, holding me as if I weighed nothing. As if he had all the time in the world.
His thumb shifted slightly against my side, not careless. Deliberate.
"You know," he said softly, a smug curve to his mouth, "you could've just asked for my arms. No need for theatrics."
"What do you mean by asked for your–" I started, but he cut me off.
His grip tightened ever so slightly, not enough to hurt, just enough to remind me I was still in his arms.
"And if you keep staring at me like that," he said, voice low and dangerously calm, eyes flicking to my lips, "I might steal a kiss… and more."