Elara's POV
I woke with the feeling that I was not alone.
Not the comfortable feeling of sleeping near other people. Not the warmth of Kaelen's presence a few feet away or the soft breathing of the family across the room.
This was different.
This was the cold certainty that someone was watching me. Someone who shouldn't be there.
I opened my eyes slowly. The room was dark. The fire had gone out completely now. Just cold ashes in the hearth.
Everyone was sleeping. Mara and Jonn in their bed. The children curled up together. Kaelen against the wall, his head bowed, finally resting.
But something was wrong.
I started to sit up.
A hand clamped over my mouth.
Hard. Fast. Cutting off my scream before it could form.
My heart exploded in my chest. I tried to breathe but couldn't. The hand was too tight. Blocking my nose. My mouth. Everything.
Panic flooded through me. I thrashed, trying to throw off whoever was holding me.
A weight pressed down on my chest. Heavy. Pinning me to the blankets. I couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. Couldn't scream.
I was going to die.
But then the hand loosened. Just slightly. Just enough to let a tiny bit of air through.
"Shhh," a voice whispered in my ear. Male. Calm. Almost gentle. "Don't struggle. This will be easier if you don't struggle."
I froze.
The voice continued, still whisper-soft. "That's better. Good girl."
He didn't hurt me. That was what scared me most.
He could have. He could have slit my throat. Could have strangled me. Could have done anything.
But he didn't.
He just held me there. Waiting.
"Do you know who you are?" he asked quietly.
I couldn't answer. His hand was still over my mouth.
"Of course you do," he continued. "You're Queen Elara of Dravara. The young, naive queen who thought she could sneak out of her palace and play pretend among the common folk."
My blood turned to ice.
He knew. He knew who I was.
"Your disguise was very good," he said. "The clothes. The dirt. The humble voice. You fooled these simple villagers easily enough. But disguises only work when no one is looking for you."
His breath was warm against my ear. He smelled like leather and smoke.
"And we've been looking for you, Your Majesty. Watching. Waiting."
I tried to struggle again. Tried to throw him off.
His grip tightened immediately. Not enough to hurt. Just enough to remind me how easily he could.
"I told you not to struggle," he said. There was no anger in his voice. Just disappointment. Like a teacher scolding a child. "You should listen better."
Tears leaked from my eyes. I couldn't help it.
"This is the second attempt," he said calmly. "Do you remember the first?"
The coronation. The man with the knife at my throat. The whispered words: It will not be today.
"I see you do," he continued. "Good. Then you understand that we've had two chances to kill you. Two perfect opportunities. And both times, we chose not to."
He shifted his weight slightly. I could feel him leaning closer.
"This second attempt is a courtesy," he said. "A reminder. You should never have left the palace, Your Majesty. You should have stayed in your pretty rooms, surrounded by your guards, safe behind your walls."
His hand pressed down harder on my mouth for just a second.
"Distance does not equal safety," he whispered. "Running does not equal freedom. The crown follows you wherever you go. And so do we."
He paused. Let the words sink in.
"The third attempt will not come with conversation," he said. "The third time, there will be no warnings. No mercy. No second chances. Do you understand?"
I couldn't nod with his hand holding me. Couldn't speak. Couldn't do anything.
"I'll take your tears as a yes," he said.
Then, just like that, the weight lifted. The hand released.
He was gone.
I gasped for air, my lungs burning. I tried to see him, tried to catch even a glimpse, but the darkness was complete.
I heard nothing. No footsteps. No door opening. No sound at all.
He'd vanished like smoke. Like he'd never been there at all.
But the terror was real. The message was real.
And for a moment, I just lay there, shaking, trying to remember how to breathe.
Then I screamed.
The sound ripped out of me. Raw. Uncontrolled. Pure terror.
It shattered the silence like glass breaking.
Immediately, the room exploded into motion.
Mara jerked awake. "What? What's happening?"
Jonn jumped out of bed. "Who's there?"
The children started crying.
Kaelen was on his feet in an instant, his sword drawn. "Lara!"
Outside, doors slammed open. Voices shouted. Footsteps pounded.
People poured into the house. The old elder. The young couple from earlier. Mara's neighbors. Everyone holding lamps, weapons, looking around wildly.
"What happened?"
"Is everyone alright?"
"I heard a scream!"
Kaelen reached me first. He dropped to his knees beside me, his hands on my shoulders. "Lara, what happened? Are you hurt?"
I couldn't speak. Could only shake my head, my body trembling violently.
"Where is he?" Kaelen demanded, his eyes scanning the dark corners of the room. "Who was here?"
"Who?" Mara asked, clutching her children to her chest. "Lara, what happened?"
"A man," I choked out, the words sticking in my throat. "There was a man. He was... on top of me. His hand over my mouth. I couldn't breathe."
Jonn grabbed a lamp and began searching the room, peering into shadows. "How did he get in? The door's still latched."
The elder moved to check the window. "This is latched too."
"Are you sure you didn't have a nightmare, child?" the elder asked gently, though his eyes were sharp as he surveyed the room.
"It wasn't a nightmare," I insisted, my voice trembling but firm. "He was real. He whispered to me."
"What did he say?" Mara asked, her voice filled with motherly concern as she left her bed to come kneel beside me, taking my cold hands in her warm ones.
I caught Kaelen's warning look. .