The next morning, Elira stood outside the royal garden, helmet tucked under her arm, waiting for the summons she had not expected to receive.
The Queen Mother never asked to see her.
Not in all her years of training. Not after her trials. Not even after being appointed as the king's personal guard.
But today, she did.
The guard at the door nodded, and Elira stepped into the garden. The scent of roses and wet earth lingered from the night's rain. At the center of the winding path, seated on a carved stone bench, was Queen Isolde.
She looked nothing like her son—her hair pale and braided in a long silver coil, her face elegant and unreadable. She didn't rise as Elira approached.
"Sit," the queen said, gesturing to the empty space beside her.
Elira remained standing. "Your Majesty."
Queen Isolde studied her for a moment, lips tight. "You're loyal. I'll give you that."
"I serve the crown," Elira replied evenly.
"You serve my son," the queen corrected. "And that's precisely what concerns me."
Elira's fingers curled slightly around her helmet. "I protect him. With my life."
The queen's gaze was razor-sharp. "That's not what I'm talking about."
A pause. The wind rustled the trees gently.
"You've grown up beside him. Walked with him, trained beside him. He trusts you. But trust can become... something else. Something dangerous."
"I would never betray him," Elira said firmly.
"No," the queen said. "But you already hurt him."
The words struck like cold water.
Elira's throat tightened, but she said nothing.
"You think pushing him away protects him?" the queen continued, her voice low. "You think denying his feelings will kill them? You don't understand my son, Sir Elira. He's not like other kings. The blood in him is old. Powerful. If he gives his heart to someone and that heart is broken—"
"He has a kingdom to rule," Elira interrupted, quieter now. "A duty. He doesn't need love. He needs loyalty."
The queen turned her head, eyes narrowing. "He needs someone who understands that his heart and his power are bound. And if either shatters, the kingdom suffers."
Elira swallowed hard. She had always believed her silence was strength. That pushing him away was for the good of them both. But now, hearing it from the queen—the fear in her voice, the truth behind it—she wasn't so certain.
The queen stood slowly. "Do not forget your place, girl. But also… do not forget his heart."
As she turned to leave, her voice floated over her shoulder, quiet and sharp:
"If he ever loses control, only you will be able to bring him back."
Elira stood alone in the garden, the roses swaying softly behind her.
She didn't realize her hand had drifted to her chest.
And for the first time in years… she didn't know whether she wanted to say those words anymore.
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