Six days passed swiftly. The palace and the villagers waited in tense anticipation for the result of the remedy Aurora had suggested. The air was thick with expectation. Even King Aldric, carried a quiet concern for the outcome.
Night settled over Velmora. Aldric stood in his chamber, a single candle burning at his desk, casting long shadows against stone walls.
A knock came at the door.
His right-hand man stepped in, bowed.
"Your Majesty, the farmer's messenger has arrived."
Aldric straightened. "Well?"
"He says the livestock have shown signs of recovery, Your Majesty. The method… appears to be working."
Aldric let out a breath he had not realized he was holding.
"Tell him I will see him in person tomorrow. Dismissed."
Commander Kael bowed and left.
Aldric turned toward the window, the silver moon now retreating behind a passing cloud.
Her suggestion had worked. The animals were healing.
I need to let her know, he thought. I should probably tell her how I feel.
He nodded to himself, resolved.
-
The palace had gone still again.
Velmora's torches burned low in the hallways, and the breeze that rustled the outer courtyard flowers carried only the hush of sleep. Yet Aurora's chambers remained softly lit, her curtains drawn aside, her eyes fixed on the sky.
She sat by the open window in a robe of purple silk, a warm shawl thrown over her shoulders. Her maids had already retired to their smaller quarters at the end of the wing. The garden below her was silent. The stars above blinked gently, uncaring of the world's chaos.
Her thoughts were loud.
She had barely eaten all day. The weight of doubt had pressed against her chest like a stone. She had spoken in court—publicly, boldly—offered a remedy for a kingdom she barely called her own. And, for days, she had waited. Waited for a knock at her door, a frown, a summons. Or worse… silence that meant she had failed.
But none came. Not until now.
A knock—soft, but firm.
Aurora turned her head, startled. Her heart immediately began to race.
Lira and Faye, the two maids left with her, stirred where they lay, but before they could fully rise, the door opened slowly.
And there he was.
Aldric.
The maids quickly bowed and retreated without a word. The door shut behind them with a soft click.
Aurora rose slowly to her feet, caught off guard as always by his silent entrances. Her hands folded before her as she dipped her head politely.
"I did not know you were coming, Your Majesty."
"I did not send word," Aldric said. His voice was quieter than usual. Gentler.
There was a pause—brief, but heavy.
He stepped further into the chamber, and his eyes, though calm, did not leave her. "I thought you should know," he said, stopping just a few feet away. "The farmer reported back tonight. Your suggestion… the remedy you spoke of… it worked."
Aurora's breath caught.
She looked up slowly, unsure if she had heard him right. "It… worked?"
Aldric nodded once. "The livestock are recovering. The fever has dropped. Even the horses are showing signs of improvement."
She let out a breath—half disbelief, half joy. Her lips parted, and slowly, a smile bloomed on her face. Relief washed over her like warm sunlight. Her fingers gripped her shawl as her body slightly swayed with the force of emotion she had kept inside all day.
"Oh… thank the heavens," she whispered. "I was scared it would not…"
She stopped, suddenly aware of the way he was staring at her.
Aldric had not moved.
He watched her as if she were a sunrise after years of darkness—something impossible, unexplainable, and beautiful. And that smile… that honest, grateful smile she just gave him—he could feel it like an arrow straight through his chest.
No courtesan, no queen, no lady of noble birth had ever looked at him like that. So genuinely. So relieved not for praise or glory—but because she simply wanted the animals to heal.
"You smiled," he said, almost to himself.
Aurora blinked. "I… yes?"
"It is beautiful."
Aurora dropped her gaze immediately, awkward again, unsure of what to say. "I… I am just relieved. That is all."
He took a slow step closer.
She did not move away. Nor did she move toward him.
"I am glad you spoke up that day," Aldric continued. "Few do in my court."
She met his gaze. "That is because few are brave enough to risk your wrath, Your Majesty," she said quietly.
Aldric gave a rare, amused breath. "And yet you did."
She looked away again. "It was not bravery. Just… something I could not keep in."
Another silence fell between them—not cold, but thick with something neither of them could name.
Finally, Aldric stepped back. He walked to the edge of her bed, just like before, and sat down. His fingers undid the clasp at his shoulder, and he laid his robe across the nearby chair.
Without a word, he reclined on the bed, reaching behind him to unfasten the pendant she had given him and placed it carefully on her night table, where the soft lamplight caught its gleam.
Aurora watched, lips parted, unsure why her chest tightened at the sight of it there, so close… as if it belonged.
Then his voice came again—quiet.
"Sleep," he said. "You need it."
She stood still for a moment, then nodded softly.
She walked over slowly, every step feeling both strange and familiar. She climbed into the bed beside him, keeping to her side of the mattress, the warmth of the blanket shielding her from more than just the cold.
Aldric did not speak again.
But as the silence settled over the chamber, something changed in its shape. It was no longer stiff, or uncomfortable. It was warm. Like a heartbeat between them.
Aldric turned on his side, facing her back, eyes half-lidded but still open.
Not today, he thought. I cannot tell her how I feel… some other day.
Aurora… eventually closed her eyes. Sleep did not take her instantly.
But for once, she did not feel fear. Not of him. Not of the palace. Not of what tomorrow might bring.
Just the soft, quiet night…
The morning sun gilded the rooftops of Velmora like spilled honey. The courtyard was alive with motion—servants carrying baskets of fruit, servants sweeping marble tiles, soldiers lining up for inspection. But in a quieter corridor behind the court hall, King Aldric sat in a small council chamber, alone but for one man.
The farmer representative, dressed more neatly now than during the last meeting, stood before the king, hands clasped together tightly, barely containing his eagerness.
"Your Majesty," the man said, voice trembling—not from fear this time, but excitement. "It worked. It truly worked. The fever is gone, the swelling reduced. The livestock are eating again. The horses are standing firm. The calves…" He exhaled, shaking his head in wonder. "The calves are strong."
Aldric leaned back slightly, folding his hands before his face in thought. But behind that hardened stare, something flickered in his eyes.
The man stepped forward slightly, adding with deep sincerity, "What Queen Aurora—suggested, it was nothing short of a miracle."
A pause.
Then Aldric spoke. "She has been informed that her counsel has saved our livestock."
The man bowed deeply. "Thank you, Your Majesty. We are in her debt."
"No," Aldric replied, standing. "She is one of us. It was her duty. And she fulfilled it."
As the man was escorted out, Aldric stood in the quiet chamber alone, gazing at the banner of Velmora swaying in the breeze from the open windows. He said nothing, but in the quiet, his thoughts spun around a name that now echoed across the kingdom.
Aurora.....
Whispers moved faster than servants.
From kitchen corners to guard posts, from servants to merchants, her name was no longer coated in scorn or laced in insult.
"Did you hear? Queen Aurora suggested the cure for the animals. Saved all the livestock."
"They said she used an ancient method from Elareth—something even the scholars forgot."
"She is quiet… but wise. Maybe His Majesty was right to bring her here."
Everywhere Aurora walked now, heads dipped—not with forced respect, but with genuine admiration. Even the younger palace girls watched her with awe, and soon the news spread beyond the palace walls.
When the news reached Queen Mother, she was in her solarium, trimming fresh lilies. Her most trusted maid rushed in with the word.
Ava only paused slightly, then smiled, not at all surprised.
"I told you," she murmured to the maid beside her. "The girl has fire. Quiet fire… the kind that makes queens."
She ordered a gold-inlaid box to be fetched from her treasury and instructed her maids to deliver it to Aurora—inside, a set of fine gold accessories: bangles, a brooch shaped like a rising sun, and earrings studded with deep green gems.
The note that accompanied it bore Ava's own seal. Written within were the words: 'For the boldness of heart and the wisdom of mind—Velmora is richer because of you.'
Selene's Quarters.....
Smash!!!!!
The vase exploded against the wall.
"She is a fraud!" Selene shrieked, pacing the chamber in fury, her hands gesturing wildly while her servants pressed themselves against the walls. "What manner of sorcery is this? How is it that all speak of her as though she were some savior?"
Her reflection in the tall mirror mocked her—the same mirror she had admired herself in just that morning. She turned away in disgust.
"She has no bloodline, no grace, no claim to this place!"
She threw open her wardrobe, pulled out a gown, and hurled it at the floor. "I hope the livestock all perish before the new week!"
But even as she screamed, the whispers kept growing louder beyond her doors. And Selene knew—Aurora had crossed from ghost to queen in the minds of the people.
Virelda's Quarters...…..
Virelda's rage was quiet. Too quiet.
Her hands trembled slightly as she stood by the table, eyes fixed on the ink-stained scroll before her. The silence in the chamber was thick—until one of her servants stepped forward hesitantly, eyes lowered.
"My lady…" she began, voice cautious. "I heard something… from one of the king's quarter maids. She said His Majesty has granted Queen Aurora the right to leave the palace freely… to stroll among the villagers."
Virelda slowly lifted her gaze, cold and sharp.
The servant swallowed and added quickly, "She said it was a personal order. No escort required. Just… permission, as if she were—"
The rest of the words died on her tongue.
Virelda's fingers curled into fists, the blood rushing to her ears. Her thoughts burned.
That right… that freedom… I never had it, not until years with His Majesty. And now… it is simply handed to her. To that pale little girl, with quiet eyes and no pedigree.
A single breath left her lips, slow and dangerous.
With one sharp movement, she swept everything off the table—the glass carafe, the scrolls, the gilded pen, everything.
The servant jumped back, but dared not speak.
Virelda stood breathing hard, her chest rising and falling. She clutched the side of the table and narrowed her eyes. "She will not last. Not if I can help it."
Aurora's Quarters...
The golden box sat unopened beside her.
Aurora stared at it in disbelief.
She had read Ava's note twice now, and still her fingers trembled slightly. Her maids were wide-eyed, nearly giddy. They'd never served a queen so personally praised by Lady Ava herself.
One of the maids said gently, "Your Majesty, open it…" Excitement written on her face.
Aurora finally did.
The accessories glittered like fire in a sunlit stream. But more than the gift—it was the acknowledgment that struck her. For once, her actions had not been ignored or punished. For once, someone was proud of her.
Moments later, another knock came. It was one of Aldric's elite messengers, bearing a sealed letter.
Aurora read the short note:
'You are granted full access to stroll beyond the palace walls, at your wish. The villagers of Velmora may now know the queen who saved their animals.
— King Aldric'
She stood still for a long moment.
Then slowly, ever so slowly, a small smile crept onto her face.
She looked toward her window—the same one through which she had watched the village for weeks. Watched children play. Watched traders pass. Watched freedom.
And now…Now she could touch it. Feel it.
Later that evening, dressed simply in soft blue with a light shawl, Aurora stepped out into the royal gardens. Her feet took her to the gate that led toward the outer courtyards—the path that would, for the first time, take her beyond.
She did not think of Aldric.
She did not think of praise or the queens or gold.
She only thought of the world outside…and how she could breathe for once without fear.
Behind her, her maids smiled.
Ahead, a new horizon waited.
Morning came, and the gates of Velmora opened, and for the first time since her forced marriage, Queen Aurora stepped into the world outside the palace walls.
Her pale gown danced gently in the breeze, the sunlight catching in her white hair like silver threads. Her maids trailed closely behind, eyes alight with curiosity, some nearly skipping from joy. They had longed for this day too, and now it had arrived—granted not just for them, but through her.
As they moved into the heart of the village, a hush fell like a reverent breeze.
Then, slowly, movement stirred—villagers turned, eyes widened, and recognition filled their faces. It was not just respect… it was affection. The woman who saved their livestock. The quiet queen with a slave's blood and a lion's courage.
Heads bowed. Men removed their caps. Mothers whispered to their children.
Then came the first child—no older than six—running across the dirt path, arms wide open. His mother gasped, rushing after him, but before she could stop him, Aurora knelt down.
"It is all right," she said softly, her voice warm.
The child wrapped his arms around her neck, giggling, and several others followed. Some only wanted to touch her hand. Others reached gently for her hair.
"It is so white," a girl whispered, stroking the soft strands like it was spun moonlight.
Aurora laughed gently, embracing each one. "That is what happens when the stars are too kind," she said, and the children giggled.
Their parents stood back in awe, eyes misty, many mouthing "Thank you, Your Majesty" again and again.
She entered the market next, her presence pulling every gaze like gravity.
Aurora moved through the stalls with wide, gleaming eyes—this was nothing like the palace, nothing like the lonely chambers and cold stares of her co-wives. This was warmth. Earth. Life.
She stopped by a fruit stall and picked a golden melon.
"What do you charge for it?" she asked.
"Nothing, Your Majesty," the seller said quickly, trembling.
Aurora smiled. "No. If I take, I pay. That is how it should be."
The seller's hands shook as he accepted her coin—not for the value, but the honor. And once she left, the villagers rushed his stall, demanding the same fruit the queen had touched.
It happened again and again. At the fabric booth where she admired embroidered veils—sold out within minutes. At the sweet-maker's tray—cleared entirely once she left. And finally, at a quiet stall tucked between two noisy ones, where an old woman sold handmade bangles, she picked one—simple bronze adorned with faded red stones.
The moment Aurora walked away with it, a crowd surged toward the old woman. By the time Aurora turned around, the rest were gone.
She smiled softly. She had never felt seen before.
But then—something shifted.
Near the edge of the square, nestled in the shadow of a ruined stone archway, a silent corner pulled her attention. It was quiet, strange, untouched by the market's joy.
There, beneath a crooked canopy of faded cloth, stood a lone woman in a cream cloak, unmoving.
Aurora hesitated.
Her maids were a distance away, laughing over trinkets, hands full of ribbons and little charms she had generously allowed them to buy.
She looked once more at the woman. There was something odd… familiar? Her feet moved before her mind did.
She approached quietly, her golden bangles clinking softly.
When she reached out and touched the woman's shoulder, the woman spun around so fast Aurora stumbled back—but not far enough. The woman seized her arm, eyes wild and full of recognition.
She laughed, sharp and wild. "I knew you would come, Archon."
Aurora blinked, startled. "What—?"
The woman gripped her hand tighter, refusing to let go.