The corridor toward Hale's private wing was quieter than the rest of the palace.
As they walked, Serena finally broke, asking the question that had been on her mind.
"Is Hale your fated mate?"
Elara stopped short.
"Oh… that." Her cheeks flushed instantly, color creeping up her neck. "I think so, yes."
Serena chuckled, eyes bright with amusement.
"You are the boldest person I know, yet you blush at the topic of your fated mate. What am I going to do with you?"
Elara exhaled, shoulders slumping as they resumed walking. "He has not said anything about us being fated mates... or anything at all."
She grimaced. "I don't think he is fully interested. He is still deciding whether he even wants a mate, let alone me."
Serena smiled, warm and certain. She would shut that train of thought down in its tracks.
"There is no chance of that. None. He was so excited the night you met him. And every time we see him, his eyes light up when he looks at you."
Elara huffed quietly. "Or maybe he is just polite."
"He's nervous around you." Serena glanced sideways. "But taking it slow doesn't mean he's unsure. He wouldn't give you flowers daily if he was unsure, or invite us to his private wing before a ball."
Elara sighed, unconvinced, fingers twisting together. "Will you watch tonight and tell me what you think? Be brutally honest. I need to keep my expectations level."
"Of course," Serena said without hesitation. "If he is messing with you, I will punch him."
Elara rolled her eyes, laughter bubbling up at last. "You are terrifying."
They stopped before a heavy oak door, reinforced with iron bands etched in subtle sigils.
Elara lifted her hand and knocked.
A familiar, warm voice answered from within.
"Come in." Hale called.
They entered the study, the door closing softly behind them.
Hale was already on his feet, halfway to the door as if he had been pacing and lost a battle with patience.
The moment Elara entered, he stopped breathing. He stared at her like a startled statue, eyes wide, shoulders locked.
In that frozen second, his elbow knocked into the side table.
The glass of whiskey in his hand slipped from his fingers.
He lunged to catch it, missed entirely, and instead clipped a nearby candle stand with his forearm.
The candle toppled onto his desk.
Hot wax splashed. Whiskey spilled after it.
A loose paper caught fire and drifted to the floor.
He frantically stomped out the flame, then straightened and looked up at Elara, eyes hopeful that she had somehow missed all of what had just occurred.
He took a step toward her, caught his foot on the rug, and stumbled, barely managing not to faceplant.
Serena, composed and radiant as ever, stepped forward with a smile that smoothed the room back into order.
"Hale, it is good to see you," she said warmly. "Isn't she beautiful?"
Something in her tone grounded him.
Hale inhaled. Exhaled. The chaos of the last ten seconds vanished from his expression as he looked at Elara like nothing else existed.
"Yes," he breathed, immediately tangling himself in his own words. "You. Pretty. Are."
He swallowed hard. "I mean. You are pretty. Very. Gods."
Elara laughed, soft and genuine, the sound easing the tightness in his chest. She closed the distance between them.
"Careful," she said, voice low, teasing but kind. "Keep complimenting a girl like this and she might start believing it."
She kissed his lips softly, surprising herself as much as him.
Hale froze.
His face turned red. Then redder. Then a boyish grin broke across his mouth, bright and stunned, like a man who had just been struck by lightning and decided he would happily do it again.
He grabbed her hands without thinking, grounding himself in the fact that she was real.
Serena fought the urge to giggle.
"She's not the only one," a voice called from the corner.
Serena looked up. Gavriel Sterling was lounging in the corner, glass in hand.
For a man never short on words, Gavriel had gone silent.
She was stunning, and for once, even he knew better than to interrupt the moment too quickly.
"Great to see you as well, Gav," Serena said at last, offering him a warm, easy smile meant to break the tension before it snapped.
It worked. Mostly.
He stood slowly and poured her a glass of whiskey. His grin was impossible to hide now. "Lovely gown."
"Yes." Her fingers brushed his briefly as she took the glass. "I owe you much thanks. And for the earrings and shoes. They are lovely."
His eyes flicked deliberately to the earrings, then the shoes, then returned to her face.
"Surprised you agreed to wear it," he said, his voice lowering with amused approval. "It is bold. But then again," his smile sharpened, "so are you."
Serena lifted a brow, taking a slow sip. "Bold of you to gift the nicest gown in Drakenfell, complete with shoes and earrings, and not expect me to wear it."
"She is not exaggerating. You did well," Elara added, clearly enjoying this interaction. "One might think you were trying to start a political incident."
"I absolutely was," Gavriel said without hesitation. His gaze lingered on Serena, unapologetic. "I just did not expect the weapon to be this devastating."
Serena flushed, warmth creeping into her cheeks. "You both are being ridiculous."
"Objectively false," Gavriel said easily. "If you walk into that ballroom like this, someone is going to spill wine, insult royalty, or propose on the spot."
Elara laughed. "Place your bets. I am leaning toward all three."
Serena shook her head, trying to hide her smile behind her glass. "You are incorrigible."
"And yet," Gavriel said, lifting his own glass toward her, "you are wearing the dress. And drinking whiskey."
She met his eyes over the rim of her drink. "Living dangerously."
"You say that," he said, eyes slow on hers, "but you are enjoying every second of it."
Gavriel's grin faltered.
Just for a heartbeat.
His eyes caught on the faint shadow along Serena's cheek and slight swelling of her lower lip. Things most people would miss. Things no one bothered to look for.
He had looked at her face too many times not to notice.
Something cold flickered behind his eyes.
Serena noticed his stare.
He schooled his expression instantly, smile snapping back into place, easy and bright, as if nothing had shifted at all.
"Well," he drawled, tilting his head, "I was going to ask which poor soul you knocked out in the sparring ring. Or maybe you finally took up underground boxing. I hear you would be terrifying."
Serena laughed, shaking her head. "No. Just a very upset princess."
Elara snorted. "She accused Serena of trying to seduce Dexmon and bonding with his dragon. Like it was intentional."
Gavriel's brows lifted, amusement sharpening with something darker beneath his expression.
"I tried to tell her she was mistaken," Serena continued, voice calm, honest. "I have only spoken to him a handful of times."
"We did not want to seek her out," Elara added. "We were not sure she would recognize either of us."
"I did not realize he was betrothed to her and I absolutely would have spoken to her if I had known she felt that way," Serena said.
Gavriel took a slow sip of his whiskey.
"Hm," he said thoughtfully. "Well. That is unfortunate for her."
Elara glanced at him. "For her?"
Hale cut in, arms folded, expression calm but edged. "Her antics are going to end that betrothal if she is not careful. The amount of rumors she and Queen Bellatrix have been spreading is ridiculous."
Elara scoffed. "Rumors, slaps, sabotage."
"Sabotage?" Hale asked.
"She cut the back of Serena's dress too. Just reached over and sliced it like a deranged tailor with a vendetta. Honestly, I half expected her to hiss and crawl backwards."
Gavriel barked a laugh. "Ah. So that is why you are wearing this dress."
His eyes swept her again, unmistakably satisfied. "I thought it would take me at least three more balls and a mild scandal to convince you."
"You saved the day," Serena said with a soft smile.
"Yes, you did," Elara added. "Do not let that go to your head."
"High praise," Gavriel said, lifting his glass. "I intend to be insufferable about this."
Serena shook her head, her smile widening despite herself. "You are already insufferable."
"Yes," he agreed cheerfully, offering a wicked grin. "And you keep pretending you do not like it."
Hale glanced between them, then laughed under his breath. Elara was watching him closely.
"If she walks into that ballroom looking like that," he said to Elara, shaking his head, "Agnes is going to lose her mind."
Serena glanced in his direction, exhaling slowly. "Hopefully she will be too focused on Dexmon to notice," she said. "I would prefer at least one evening without theatrics."
Gavriel's grin turned dangerous. "Wager anyone? She makes a scene before midnight."
"I will take that," Hale said at once. "She will hold it together just long enough to believe she is in control. Then she will snap after midnight. Probably during a dance. Or a toast. Something meant to be dignified."
Elara laughed under her breath. "You sound very confident."
Gavriel set his glass down. "Stakes?"
Elara considered, then smiled sweetly. "Loser has to escort Queen Bellatrix for an entire dance. No excuses. No sudden injuries."
Hale groaned. "You are vicious."
"And," Elara added, clearly enjoying herself, "kiss her hand. With enthusiasm."
Serena winced. "That is excessive."
"Necessary," Elara corrected.
Hale sighed like a man preparing for execution. "Agreed."
Gavriel grinned. "Done."
Elara clapped once, sharp and pleased. "Excellent. I will be judging."
Serena shook her head, lips curving.
Gavriel lifted his glass, eyes gleaming. "Tonight, we are going to be very entertained."