Chapter 5 Garden of truths

Elenma slid down the door the moment it closed behind her.

Her knees gave way, and she sank onto the cold stone floor, pressing her forehead against her arms as her breath broke apart. The corridor outside was distant now, muffled, as though the palace itself had turned its back on her.

"I didn't lie," she whispered. "I didn't..."

Tears spilled freely, soaking into the worn fabric of her dress. Her chest ached with a pain she did not yet have a name for-betrayal, perhaps, or the slow, terrifying realization that truth alone was not always enough.

She stayed there for a long time, listening to her own breathing, to the pounding of her heart. Somewhere deep inside her, something stirred. Not loudly. Not yet. Just a faint warmth, like embers buried beneath ash.

A soft knock came at the door.

Elenma stiffened.

"Elenma?" a voice called gently. "It's... it's me."

Maris.

Her fingers curled against the floor. For a moment, she considered pretending she wasn't there. But the knock came again, lighter this time, cautious.

She stood slowly and opened the door.

Maris stood in the hallway, hands clasped, eyes shiny with what looked like regret. She wore the same careful expression she always did-the one that made her seem harmless, sympathetic.

"I heard what happened," Maris said quietly. "I just... I wanted to say I'm sorry."

Elenma studied her face.

Her power brushed outward without her meaning it to. She saw fragments-nervousness, fear, a desire to be safe, to stay unnoticed. But beneath that, something colder lingered.

Not remorse.

Self-preservation.

"You told him I wasn't there," Elenma said softly. Not accusing. Just stating a fact.

Maris swallowed. "I didn't see you," she insisted, her voice trembling just enough to sound sincere. "I swear. I would never hurt you on purpose."

Her hand reached out, as if to touch Elenma's arm.

Elenma stepped back.

"I understand," she said quietly.

Maris's shoulders relaxed, just a fraction. "Good. I was afraid you'd hate me."

"I don't," Elenma replied. And that, at least, was true.

Maris smiled, relief flickering across her face. "We women have to look out for each other, you know? The palace can be... dangerous."

"Yes," Elenma said. "It can."

When Maris finally left, the room felt colder than before.

Elenma closed the door and leaned against it, her heart steady now, but heavier. Her power pulsed again, a little stronger this time, as if responding to her growing awareness.

Not everyone who smiled meant well.

Not every apology was real.

She slept little that night.

By morning, the palace gardens were awake with birdsong and sunlight. Dew clung to rose petals, and the air smelled of earth and green life. Elenma walked slowly along the stone path, drawn-as she always was when her thoughts tangled too tightly-to a quiet corner near an old willow tree.

It was her place.

A small bench sat there, half-hidden by vines, overlooking a shallow stream. The sound of water soothed her, grounding her when everything else felt uncertain. She lowered herself onto the bench and closed her eyes, letting the sun warm her face.

Breathe, she told herself. Just breathe.

She didn't hear the footsteps at first.

"What are you doing here?"

Her eyes flew open.

Prince Aiden stood a few steps away, hands clasped behind his back, his expression guarded. Surprise flickered across his face, quickly replaced by something more cautious.

Elenma stood at once. "I-my prince-I come here when I'm troubled. I didn't know you-"

"This is where I come," he said, interrupting. "To think."

Her heart sank. "I'm sorry. I'll leave."

She turned, embarrassed, but his voice stopped her again.

"No," he said. "Stay."

She hesitated, then sat back down slowly. After a moment, he joined her, leaving a careful distance between them.

For a while, neither spoke.

The stream gurgled softly. Leaves rustled above them.

"Where are you from?" he asked at last.

"Lindenfell," she replied. "A small village."

"Family?"

"Yes," she said, her lips curving faintly. "My mother. My sisters. My brother. They're... everything to me."

He nodded, listening. Truly listening.

"You miss them," he said.

"Every day."

He was quiet for a moment. Then, unexpectedly, he smiled.

It wasn't a wide smile. Just a small, almost uncertain curve of his lips-but it changed him entirely. The heaviness around him softened, and for a heartbeat, he looked younger. Lighter.

Elenma's breath caught.

He hadn't smiled like that in years.

They spoke of small things after that-the gardens, the seasons, the way the palace felt too large sometimes. Without realizing it, Elenma laughed once, softly, and the sound seemed to surprise them both.

Aiden felt it then-the ease, the warmth. With her, the doubts quieted. The hallway. The whispers. They faded, dull and distant.

Perhaps I was wrong, he thought. Perhaps I let suspicion blind me.

"I'll let it go," he said suddenly.

She looked at him. "My prince?"

"What happened," he clarified. "I won't hold it against you."

Relief flooded her chest so fast it nearly hurt. "Thank you," she whispered.

He nodded, as if steadying himself.

That was when a shadow fell across them.

"Prince Aiden."

Ramela stood at the edge of the garden, serene as ever. She approached gracefully and leaned close to him, her lips brushing his ear as she whispered.

Elenma couldn't hear the words.

But she saw the effect.

Aiden stiffened.

The warmth vanished from his face. His jaw tightened, and slowly, deliberately, he leaned away from Elenma.

His eyes met hers-no longer soft, no longer open.

Guarded.

Questioning.

Whatever Ramela had said had reopened the wound.

"Excuse me," he said coolly, standing. "I have duties to attend to."

He left without another word.

Elenma remained on the bench, her heart sinking as the distance between them returned-wider, sharper than before.

And from behind her calm mask, Ramela smiled.

The game was far from over.

Ramela watched from the archway as Elenma sat alone, her smile deepening with quiet triumph, unaware that destiny, once stirred, could never again be silenced.