---
Chapter Eight: A Face from Memory
The palace was ridiculous.
Shiny floors, golden chandeliers, guards that looked like they ate steel for breakfast—and me, in a way-too-tight dress with my hair done up like I was going to prom with someone I didn't like.
Lucien, still pretending to be all cool and calm, walked beside me like this was just another Tuesday. For me? This was a nightmare with glitter.
"You sure I won't get thrown out?" I whispered.
"Only if you insult my dad's mustache."
"…Tempting."
The throne room doors opened slowly, dramatic as ever. A long carpet led to two towering thrones, and on them sat the king and queen.
The king looked like he could turn a war on with one eyebrow. The queen, though… something about her made me pause. She was elegance in human form, with eyes like frosted glass—eyes that locked on mine the moment I stepped in.
She froze.
Her hand clutched the edge of her throne. Her breath caught.
Lucien glanced her way. "Mother?"
"You…" she whispered, standing so fast her crown nearly slipped. "It can't be…"
I instinctively stepped back, confused. "What did I do?"
She came closer, trembling now. "You look just like elira."
The name rang in my head like a bell.
"My mother?" I asked quietly.
The queen's lips parted, her voice a whisper of memory. "She was my best friend. My sister in all but blood. I knew she had a child—she told me before she vanished. But then she disappeared. No trace. No word. We searched every corner of the realm for her… and for you."
My heart stuttered. "You knew about me?"
"I never stopped looking." Her voice cracked. "But the war… the betrayals… it was like she vanished into the wind."
Her hand hovered near my cheek, then dropped as if unsure if she was allowed. "You're her daughter. I'd recognize that face anywhere."
I didn't know what to say. The ache in her voice felt… real. Like a thousand years of grief packed into one moment.
"I don't even know what happened to her," I admitted softly. "She died when I was young. I don't remember much."
The queen's face crumpled. " Elira deserved better. You deserved better."
We stood in silence—two women tied together by loss, time, and a woman we both loved.
"Welcome home," she said, tears slipping down her cheeks. "It took too long, but… you're home now."
And for the first time since that horrible rejection, something in my chest dared to hope.
---