章 19: Chapter 19
The next morning, I was all healed up thanks to the royal healer that Elara had practically dragged me to see. The process itself was remarkable, a combination of precision and grace. The healer, an older woman with a calm yet authoritative presence, traced glowing glyphs over my wounds while muttering words I couldn't quite catch. A soothing warmth spread through my body as the glyphs faded into my skin, leaving no trace of the injuries I had sustained.
Not one to stop there, Elara insisted that I drink a healing potion afterward, "just to be sure." The potion tasted like burnt herbs and bitterness, and while I appreciated her concern, I felt it was overkill. Still, her doting care was hard to resist, even if it bordered on overprotective. She reminded me of a little sister, always fussing over me—and it was oddly endearing.
Later that morning, as I finished dressing, I couldn't help but recall the dream I'd had about Lady Cerys the night before. It was... vivid, and my cheeks flushed just thinking about it. I looked down, embarrassed to notice my body's reaction to the memory. Cerys, the fiery captain of the Scarlet Sentinels, was an extraordinary woman. She wasn't just beautiful—though she undeniably was—she was also fierce, skilled, and charismatic. Her reputation preceded her, and the knights had been more than eager to regale me with stories about her exploits after our sparring session.
Yeah, I realized I might have a small crush on her, which wasn't exactly ideal. She was my soon-to-be instructor, the daughter of General Valeborne, and I was just a farmer's son. It was impossible, inappropriate, and ridiculous. With a sigh, I pushed the thought away. I had more important things to focus on, like my impending role as Elara's warden. That, and my upcoming award ceremony, which Elara had reminded me about the night before. She said the king had asked her to let me know I could request a reward, though he apparently had something "special" in mind already. I couldn't deny that I was curious.
A knock at the door broke my train of thought. A maid entered and informed me that breakfast would soon be served and that I was expected to join the royal family. She also mentioned that Elara was waiting for me. I thanked her, probably stumbling over my words more than I should have. I was still getting used to interacting with nobility—or their servants.
My room, which was right next to Elara's, was part of a compromise between the princess and the king. She had insisted that I sleep in her room for her peace of mind, but the king had put his foot down. In the end, I got the room adjacent to hers, though the near-tantrum she threw over it was one I wouldn't forget anytime soon.
I turned to the mirror and studied my reflection. My face still carried the boyish features of my youth, but there was a sharper edge to it now, a sign of the things I had been through. Around my neck hung the compass the magistrate had given me, its silver gleam catching the morning light. My wardrobe was now filled with finely tailored clothes, courtesy of Elara. She wanted me to look the part of her warden.
After washing up, I dressed in one of the outfits she had chosen: a finely crafted dark blue shirt with embroidered silver patterns at the cuffs, a deep crimson jacket trimmed with gold, and black tailored pants. The boots were sturdy but refined, polished to a gleaming perfection. The clothes fit so well that it felt strange—like I was wearing someone else's life.
When I stepped out, Elara was already waiting for me. She looked stunning, as always. Her dress was a soft lavender shade, embroidered with intricate silver patterns that shimmered faintly in the morning light. A delicate silver circlet rested atop her blonde hair, which was braided elegantly over one shoulder. She looked every bit the royal she was—regal, poised, and heartbreakingly beautiful.
"Took you long enough," she teased, crossing her arms. "I would have barged in there if I hadn't been stopped by the head steward."
"It would have been entirely inappropriate, Your Highness," the steward interjected, stepping forward with a disapproving frown. She was a sharp-featured woman in her thirties, wearing immaculate robes that reflected her station. A pair of thin, oval-shaped glasses sat on her nose, adding to her air of precision and efficiency.
Elara rolled her eyes. "Well, you're here now. Let's not keep Father waiting."
The head steward glanced at me critically, her sharp gaze assessing my outfit. She gave a slight nod, seemingly satisfied, before turning on her heel. "At least you look presentable," she muttered as she gestured for us to follow.
**
The dining area was grand, as expected of a palace, yet there was a solemnity to its design that reminded me this wasn't just a place for luxury but one of authority and tradition. The room stretched high, the ceiling adorned with intricate carvings of the kingdom's history, lit by a magnificent chandelier that hung like a crown of crystal in the center. The walls were lined with towering windows, draped with heavy, deep-blue curtains embroidered with silver threads depicting the royal sigil—a phoenix rising from flames.
The table itself was a marvel. Made of dark, polished wood, its surface gleamed under the golden light of the chandelier. It stretched far longer than it needed to for this morning's gathering, capable of hosting a banquet for dozens. Silverware, plates of delicate porcelain, and goblets of fine crystal were arranged meticulously, their craftsmanship as regal as the palace itself.
I looked around the dining table, unsure of where I was supposed to sit. The king sat at the head of the table, his posture regal yet weighed down by the visible sorrow of recent events. To his left sat the crown prince, his expression calm and composed, though his eyes carried something beneath the surface—something calculating and unreadable. Opposite him, the second prince lounged in his chair with an air of arrogance, his cold gaze sweeping the room like a hawk surveying lesser prey.
I felt entirely out of place. The closest thing I'd ever experienced to this sort of gathering was the harvest festival back in my village, where everyone crammed around mismatched tables, laughing and sharing stories over simple meals. This? This was an entirely different world.
Before I could flounder for too long, Elara, as always, took charge. She grabbed my arm and practically dragged me to sit beside her. Her touch was firm but reassuring. The second prince's eyes narrowed in clear disgust at the sight of me taking a seat at the royal table, but he said nothing—for now. Meanwhile, the crown prince offered a polite smile, his expression welcoming, though I couldn't shake the unease I felt under his gaze.
"Good morning, Elara. And you must be Caelan," the crown prince began smoothly, his voice measured and courteous. "I realized I neglected to properly introduce myself yesterday. I am Prince Alaric. I've heard about your sparring match with the famous Lady Cerys Valeborne. Your display of skill was... certainly impressive." He smiled, but the weight of his gaze seemed to pierce through me, as though searching for something deeper.
The second prince snorted, unable to contain his disdain. "The Lady Cerys must have been holding back significantly," he sneered. "No doubt she found it amusing to toy with an untrained farmhand." His words dripped with scorn, his cold blue eyes flicking to me as if I were some sort of vermin that had wandered too close to royalty.
I felt Elara stiffen beside me, her grip on my arm tightening as she shot the second prince a glare. For once, I stayed silent, though I couldn't stop the faint heat rising to my cheeks. I wasn't sure if it was embarrassment or anger, but either way, I held my tongue. This wasn't the place to start a fight, no matter how much the second prince's words grated on me.
"Silence," the king said, his deep voice cutting through the tension like a blade. "I will not tolerate such disrespectful behavior at this table. We are family, and we will conduct ourselves as such." His tone left no room for argument, and the second prince immediately lowered his gaze, though his clenched jaw betrayed his simmering anger.
The second prince's glare turned toward me, icy and filled with venom. If looks could kill, I was certain I'd have been pierced by a thousand arrows. Though, with a bit of luck—and maybe a lot of prayer—I might have dodged a few. Or so I told myself.
Trying to smooth over the awkwardness, I turned my attention to the crown prince. "Umm... nice to meet you, Prince Alaric," I mumbled, my words stumbling over themselves. "Thanks, and uh..." I paused, suddenly realizing I hadn't bowed. In a panic, I gave a clumsy attempt, but Prince Alaric waved it off with a friendly smile.
"There's no need for that," he said kindly. "You're practically family now."
His words hung in the air, drawing immediate tension. The second prince's chair scraped against the floor as he stood abruptly, the sharp sound echoing in the quiet room. He wiped his mouth briskly with his napkin and then threw it onto the table with disdain.
"I've lost my appetite," he muttered coldly before bowing curtly to the king and storming out of the room.
The king watched his retreating son for a moment, the lines on his face deepening as silence fell over the room. Finally, he let out a weary sigh, his hand resting heavily on the table.
"My apologies for his behavior," the king said, his voice tinged with fatigue. "Emotions have been running high these past few days. Do not take his actions personally, young Caelan." He turned his eyes toward me, their weight heavy with unspoken concerns. "You are a guest at this table, and you will be treated with respect."
The warmth in his voice, though subdued, made my chest tighten. It was a reminder of the burdens this man carried—not just as a king, but as a father holding his fractured family together.
**
I tried to push the earlier events from my mind and focus on the meal in front of me. Elara's hand was tightly wrapped around mine beneath the table, and though I initially thought it might feel awkward, I had grown accustomed to her persistent clinginess. It was endearing in its own way—like having a little sister who refused to let go. Cute, if a bit overwhelming.
The breakfast spread was a feast for the senses. Warm loaves of freshly baked bread rested beside bowls of golden butter and fruit preserves, their rich colors gleaming in the morning light. Thin slices of cured meat and soft cheeses were neatly arranged on ornate silver platters, alongside delicate pastries stuffed with sweet cream and berries. A pot of spiced tea sat in the center, its aromatic steam carrying hints of cinnamon and citrus. I poured myself a cup, the warmth soothing my nerves as I sipped the rich, smooth blend—it was a far cry from the bitter brews I was used to back home.
With the second prince gone, the tension at the table seemed to dissipate, replaced by a lighter, almost pleasant atmosphere. The king remained quiet, occasionally nodding to comments from Prince Alaric, who had taken on the role of easing the mood.
"You must be adjusting to life here in Eryndal, Caelan," Alaric said with a warm smile. "It's not every day a man gets pulled from obscurity into the inner circle of the royal family."
His tone was polite, even friendly, but there was an intensity in his gaze I couldn't quite place. Despite his words, there was a subtle edge beneath them. Still, it was a welcome change from outright hostility, and I nodded, trying to keep my voice steady.
"I'm doing my best, Your Highness," I replied, unsure of what else to say.
The table settled into a comfortable rhythm after that. The clinking of silverware and the occasional murmured words filled the space as we ate, and I found myself finally beginning to relax. But Elara seemed restless, her gaze flickering toward me with a glint of mischief in her eyes.
It wasn't until she turned to me, holding up a small forkful of honey-drizzled tart, that I realized why.
"Caelan, say 'ah,'" she said, her voice light and teasing.
"Uhh..." My brain froze as I stared at the fork she was offering. All at once, I became acutely aware of the room. The servants stationed along the walls of the dining hall were watching discreetly, though their expressions gave nothing away. Even the knights stationed outside the door seemed to weigh on me, their unseen presence oppressive.
"Open," she repeated, her tone brooking no argument.
I glanced toward the king, silently begging for his intervention. But he didn't even look up from his tea. He sipped calmly, his expression unreadable. His silence felt louder than any command: You're on your own, Caelan.
Sighing in defeat, I leaned forward slightly. "Fine. Ah."
Elara grinned in triumph as she gently fed me the tart. I chewed awkwardly, doing my best to ignore the faint amusement flickering across one of the servant's faces before they quickly looked away.
"See? That wasn't so hard," Elara said with a smug smile.
I shook my head, swallowing the admittedly delicious tart. "Yeah, yeah. Glad I could entertain you, Princess."
Her smile only widened, and for a moment, the weight of the room seemed to lift. Even as I felt the quiet scrutiny of everyone around us, I couldn't help but think: Maybe this isn't so bad.
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