Chapter 4: The Cold Prince's Smile
The grand hall was a spectacle of opulence, its towering pillars and marble floors gleaming beneath the sunlight filtering through massive windows. Gold banners fluttered gently in the breeze, each one bearing the royal crest. Elira stepped in, her eyes sweeping over the space, noting every detail with precision, as if the room itself were an enemy she needed to understand.
Her heart beat steadily in her chest, but inside, the storm brewed.
The last time she had been here, the prince's smile had been her undoing. She had been his favorite—his confidante, the woman who had once carried his heart in the palm of her hand. And yet, on the day of her execution, it had been his cold, pitiless gaze that had delivered the final blow. She had been betrayed not only by the empire but by the one person she had loved more than life itself.
Crown Prince Caelan stood near the throne, as always, his posture perfect, exuding the calm grace of someone who had long since learned how to hide his true emotions. His dark eyes, so familiar and once warm, now appeared distant. He was taller than she remembered, broader across the shoulders. The years had changed him, but it was nothing compared to the transformation inside her.
Elira's lips tightened as she crossed the room toward him. She could feel the weight of his gaze on her, but she did not falter. Not this time.
"Lady Dawnmont," Caelan greeted her, his voice smooth, devoid of any warmth, though the slight curve of his lips hinted at some familiarity. "I trust you're well today?"
Elira didn't answer immediately. She had prepared herself for this moment, the moment where she would stand before him once more—this time with the power of knowledge, this time with a clear goal. Her fingers brushed the silk of her gown, the cool fabric grounding her.
"I am well," she said finally, her voice steady but filled with an edge that hadn't been there before. "I'm surprised to see you here today, Your Highness. Surely there's no business that requires your attention with the likes of me."
Caelan's smile faltered, a flicker of something passing through his eyes. But it was gone in an instant, replaced by the cold mask he had perfected over the years.
"You never fail to keep things interesting, Lady Dawnmont," he replied smoothly, the words slipping from his lips with practiced ease. "But there is always business to attend to, even when it involves someone as… unpredictable as yourself."
A slight jibe. A reminder of the past. A test. Elira could feel the challenge in the air between them, palpable and suffocating.
Her gaze hardened. "Unpredictable?" she repeated, her voice a dangerous whisper. "You call it unpredictable when someone refuses to play the game of thrones you so dearly love?"
Caelan stiffened, his eyes narrowing slightly, but he recovered quickly, a shift in his stance the only sign that he was even slightly unsettled.
"I wouldn't call it a game, Elira," he said softly, his eyes flicking to her with an unreadable expression. "Not when lives are on the line."
Elira tilted her head, her silver eyes gleaming like shards of ice. "Ah, I see. You still think it's a game. But that's the difference between us, Caelan. I've learned the stakes. You—" she paused, her lips curving in a bitter smile "—you haven't yet."
The words hung in the air, thick with the weight of the unspoken truths. The prince did not respond. Instead, he simply watched her with a curious look, though it was clear he had more on his mind than their banter.
"You've become bolder, Elira," Caelan commented after a long pause, his tone both a compliment and a challenge. "But I must warn you—such behavior will not be tolerated here, not in this court."
Elira's smile didn't falter, but there was a flicker of something—something darker—in her eyes. "Then perhaps I should leave this court altogether. Would that be more tolerable, Your Highness?"
Caelan's expression flickered for the briefest moment, a sign of something more than his usual indifference. He looked her up and down with a calculating gaze, as if trying to understand her anew. His lips twitched at the corner, and for a moment, it was as though the distance between them had disappeared, and he was the young man who had once smiled at her with such affection.
But then he turned away, the moment shattering like glass.
"I think not," he said coolly, his back to her now, his voice carrying across the room. "You'll remain here. I need you here."
Elira felt the words hit her like a stone in the chest. I need you here.
It was not the first time he had spoken those words to her. Not when he had promised to protect her from the court's cruelty. Not when he had called her his, his heart in her hands. But now, those words rang hollow. They carried no love, no warmth, only the faintest trace of manipulation.
"Why?" she asked, her voice colder now than she had ever allowed it to be. "Because you fear me?"
Caelan turned to face her fully, his expression unreadable. "Because you're useful," he said simply, and there it was again—the ruthlessness that had destroyed her. "You still hold influence in this court. You still have allies, Lady Dawnmont. And that makes you valuable."
Elira felt her chest tighten. It wasn't the words that cut so deeply—it was the reminder that her value had never been in her heart or her soul. It had only ever been in her usefulness to him.
"And what happens when I'm no longer valuable to you, Caelan?" she asked, her voice quiet but filled with venom. "Will I be discarded once again, just like before?"
Caelan's eyes darkened, and for the first time, a flicker of regret—true regret—seemed to pass through them. But it was gone as quickly as it had appeared. He took a step toward her, his voice lowering.
"Perhaps you've forgotten," he said quietly, "but it wasn't I who discarded you. You chose to defy me. You chose to fight against the empire. Against me."
Elira clenched her fists at her sides, her nails biting into the soft fabric of her gloves. "And look where it got me," she replied through gritted teeth. "Look where your empire got me."
He sighed heavily, his frustration barely concealed. "You never understood, did you? I did what I had to do. For the good of the empire. For both of us."
"For both of us?" she repeated incredulously. "And what about me, Caelan? Did you ever stop to think about me?"
The silence that followed stretched on, each word heavy with the weight of their shared past. The room seemed to grow colder, as though the ghosts of their former selves lingered in the corners.
Finally, Caelan spoke, his voice quieter, almost resigned. "Perhaps I was wrong," he said softly. "But that doesn't change what has happened."
Elira turned away, her breath coming quicker now, her heart racing. "No," she whispered. "It doesn't. But I've changed."
She glanced over her shoulder at him, her silver eyes gleaming like the first hint of dawn. "And so will the empire."
The prince didn't respond. His silence was as much an answer as any words he could have spoken.
And with that, Elira turned and walked away.