The maids moved like shadows, quiet and quick, their gazes lowered as they stripped the bloodied sheets from my bed. The silence in the room was deafening, only broken by the soft rustle of fabric and the occasional clink of silver as the chamber tools shifted in their hands. None of them looked at me. And I was grateful for it. I wasn't sure I could meet another pair of eyes this morning.
I sat on the edge of the bed, shirtless, chest rising and falling with the heavy rhythm of shame and confusion. My fingers curled into the mattress, still warm from the memory of her. Liora. Her name echoed like thunder inside me, louder than the silence, louder than the guilt.
I remembered her trembling fingers on my lips, silencing the questions I couldn't even form. The softness of her breath as she whispered those words. The way her eyes held both fear and desire—and how easily I had given in. Not out of dominance or power, but out of desperation. Out of something I hadn't even dared to name.
But she was gone now. She'd left before the sun rose, leaving behind a stained sheet and a mess that no one could clean, no matter how skilled.
When the knock came again, firmer this time, I didn't flinch.
"Prince Elias," came the muffled voice of a guard, "Your mother requests your presence in the King's chambers."
I didn't answer. I just stood slowly, my limbs heavier than they should be. The maids had already left, carrying away the evidence of last night like it never happened. But it had. And no matter how deep they buried it in the laundry bins of the palace, I would remember.
I dressed carefully, every button a battle. I smoothed my collar, took a breath, and stepped out into the hallway. The corridors of the palace were quieter now—early morning hours where the world still held its breath. My footsteps echoed, the cold marble floor grounding me in a reality I was no longer sure I belonged in.
When I arrived at the King's chamber, two guards opened the door for me without a word. My mother sat beside the bed, adjusting the covers over my father's sleeping form. The sight of him—pale, smaller somehow beneath the thick blankets—twisted something deep inside me.
He'd once been a man so tall in my memory at least if j really was who i claimed to be, so commanding, that the entire kingdom felt secure beneath his rule. Now he was barely a whisper of that. His breaths were shallow but steady, his eyes closed as if even dreaming had become an effort.
My mother looked up at me. Her face was calm, the kind of calm that frightened me more than any storm.
"Good morning, Elias," she said gently.
"Morning," I replied, my voice rough.
She studied me for a long moment. I could feel her eyes sweep over me, perhaps noticing the stiffness in my stance, the way I avoided meeting her gaze directly.
"Did Claire leave already?" she asked.
I blinked, my heart skipping. "Claire?"
"She didn't tell me she was spending the night. I assumed she had."
I nodded, unsure how to respond. My silence must've said enough because she smiled softly, almost wistfully.
"I knew you two would get along eventually," she continued. "It makes me happy. And now that your father is improving, we can begin planning more seriously."
I swallowed hard. "Planning what?"
"The wedding, Elias."
She stood and walked toward me, smoothing my rumpled sleeve as if I were a child again. "You'll do your duty, won't you? For your people. For the throne."
I managed a nod, though my throat felt tight.
"Good," she said. "Now go eat something. You look pale."
I left without another word, the hallway swallowing me once more.
I found Liora hours later.
She was in the library, pretending to be absorbed in a book she hadn't turned a page of in twenty minutes. Her posture was rigid, her hands too still. The moment she saw me enter, her eyes flickered up—and then down.
I closed the door behind me.
"Liora," I said quietly.
She didn't respond.
I stepped closer, careful not to startle her. "You didn't have to leave like that."
She stood, the book falling shut in her hands. "I couldn't stay."
"I know."
A long pause stretched between us.
"They think Claire spent the night," I said.
"I know that too."
I studied her face. She looked composed, but I knew her too well. Her lips were too tight, her eyes too bright.
"What happens now?" I asked.
She finally looked at me. "Nothing, Elias. Nothing happens. It was a mistake."
"Was it?" I whispered.
She hesitated. "Yes."
But her voice shook.
I took a step forward, then stopped myself.
"I never meant for this to happen," I said.
She nodded. "Neither did I."
"Do you regret it?"
"Yes," she said. But she didn't look convincing.
You are my brother!!! she said gazing right into my eyes, the words struck me harder than it should.
I reached for her hand. She didn't pull away. For a moment, we stood there—fingers barely touching, hearts laid bare in a palace that would never allow this.
All i wanted was to tell her that….
She was not my sister,
I was not her brother, i i hate hearing the word brother from her lips,
Buh i couldn't, couldn't say anything.
Then she stepped back. "We can't, Elias. You know that."
I nodded. "I do."
But knowing didn't make it hurt any less.
"I'll marry Claire," I said quietly.
She turned away.
"I'll do what I must."
"You always do," she whispered.
And with that, she walked out.
And I was left alone in the silence of the library, with nothing but the lingering scent of her perfume and the memory of last night burned into my skin.