Chapter 4 I KNOW

The heavy clang of the prison door echoed through the stone chamber, a sound that had long ceased to startle Elara. It was familiar now-like a cruel lullaby in a place where time itself seemed to rot. Her heart, once a vibrant melody of hope, now beat a mournful rhythm against her ribs, each pulse a bitter reminder of the world she had lost.

Queen Ashley stood before her, a vision of regal elegance adorned in crimson. The gown devoured what little light the cell offered, casting her in an aura of menace and power. Elara met her gaze, no longer with fear, but with a defiant fire that danced dangerously in her eyes.

"What a beauty to behold," Ashley purred, her voice smooth as velvet, though it barely concealed the sharp cruelty beneath.

Elara's lips curled into a bitter smile. "Flirting with me now?" she asked, her voice thick with sarcasm. "You've come to offer a deal, haven't you? My silence, my loyalty, in exchange for a gilded cage?"

Ashley's smile faltered, her confidence momentarily shaken. "I know you see me as a monster," she said softly, her tone stripped of its earlier playfulness. "But I am not what you think."

"You murdered my family," Elara hissed, stepping forward until her hands clutched the iron bars. "You reduced my people to nothing. And now you stand there pretending to speak of understanding?"

Her voice rose, hoarse with rage and grief. "You took everything from me!" she screamed, shaking the bars with a fury that echoed off the stone walls. "And you think that walking in here, whispering sweet nothings about goodness, will change that?"

Ashley's composure cracked. She took a measured step back, the cell thick with tension, every breath between them like the stillness before a storm.

Elara's breath came in short, furious bursts. "Torin," she spat. "He did it. Your beloved king-he destroyed my life and laughed while doing it."

Ashley's eyes gleamed, not with anger, but something stranger-an unreadable emotion. "I am a queen and a mother," she said, her voice lowering. "And yes, my son loves you. I hope, in time, you might come to know that I care for you in my own way."

The words struck like daggers. Elara's eyes narrowed. "I will never have anything to do with your son."

But Ashley, undeterred, stepped closer. "My boy has never stopped thinking of you. You will be a great queen, Elara. It was evident the moment you first walked through the palace gates."

The cell walls felt tighter, the weight of memory and betrayal closing in. Elara straightened. "Princess Elara," she said coldly, "may be in a prison, but she does not belong to you."

Ashley paused, her face unreadable. Then, with an air of finality, she said, "I hope one day you'll forgive my family for our trespasses." She turned and strode out, her footsteps fading as the guards resumed their post.

Moments later, a new sound shattered the silence-boots on stone. A guard entered and barked an order. Elara's heart dropped.

They dragged her through the winding corridors, her mind a chaos of confusion and dread. But instead of execution or further torment, she was brought to a lavish chamber-warm, perfumed, disturbingly luxurious. And there stood Duke.

He was handsome in that effortless, courtly way, with a unwavering presence between charm and concern.

"Sorry I came in that way, my lady," he said, his serious expression softened by a small, genuine smile.

Elara turned her gaze away. "You should've left me in that cell," she muttered, bitterness coating her voice.

"Not after what my father did to you," Duke said gently.

The mention of the king reopened raw wounds. Elara's voice trembled. "Don't you dare speak of him."

Duke bowed his head. "Forgive me." With a snap of his fingers, two maidens entered and bowed. "From now on, you are my responsibility, Elara."

She watched him go, noticing how his eyes-those same striking hazel eyes-echoed Queen Ashley's. And yet, in them, there was something more.

The maidens waited for instruction, but Elara said nothing. Her thoughts tangled with emotion-anger, confusion, and something she refused to name.