Six days of silence crawled by. By the sixth night, Aurora's dream had changed.
She stood in the forest again, but this time it was not misty. There was a full moon hanging low, and the woman was clearer—her eyes aglow, silver like polished iron.
"It is almost time for you to meet us," the woman whispered. "You cannot outrun what sleeps in your blood."
Aurora's breath hitched. "Who are you? Why do you plague me? What is it you seek?"
The woman laughed again, her voice ringing through the trees like a bell cracked by storm.
"Answer me!" Aurora shouted.
Still, the laughter rose. Louder. Wilder. Aurora tried to step closer, but her feet would not obey. The sound swallowed the forest, swelling and swelling until it felt alive.
She woke with a sharp gasp, sitting straight, hair spilling over her shoulders. Her palm pressed to her chest. She scanned the quiet chamber, candle embers glowing in the hush.
By the seventh day, she sat near the window, dressed simply in white, eyes hollow but calm. The fear was still there, but now she met it with a silent resolve.
She did not know what was calling her.
She did not know if she would survive it.
But she knew one thing— There is more to her.
-
Selene, in her chamber, had not even touched her tray. She sat in the corner, curled up, rocking slightly—her pride wounded, her place shaken, and her hatred for Aurora, sharper than ever.
-
The eighth morning arrived with a breath of fresh wind. The palace corridors stirred with quiet murmurs as news spread—the queens were to be released. The royal guards stationed at both ends of their chambers stood straighter than usual, waiting for the exact hour when confinement would be lifted.
Just as the sun bled gold over the eastern towers, the heavy locks on Aurora's door were turned with a soft clink. The door swung open slowly.
Her maids stood there—eyes wide, smiles brighter than ever.
"Your Majesty!" Elira gasped, rushing forward, arms already open. "We have longed for you. Greatly!"
Aurora was still seated near the sealed window, her white dress slightly rumpled, her face pale from days of solitude. But when she saw them—a flicker of warmth returned to her tired expression.
The maids gathered around her, wrapping her in gentle hugs.
"We feared for you," one said softly.
"None of us slept," another murmured.
A younger maid touched her sleeve lightly. "You kept watch through the nights, did you not?"
"You are cold," another whispered. "Like dawn."
Aurora smiled softly—the kind that did not quite reach her eyes, but spoke of deep gratitude.
"I missed you all too," Aurora whispered.
"More than you know. More than I can say."
The circle of maids tightened around her, softer now. Reverent, but full of heart.
She did not say much more. Her silence these past days had already said enough....
Selene's Quarters
The door was opened gently—and her servants stood hesitantly, unsure of how she would react. Selene stood by her vanity, hair wild, her robe carelessly draped.
"Step inside at once." she said sharply.
The servants flinched and scurried inside. One tried to speak gently, "Your Majesty… we brought warm water and—"
"Did I request that of you?!" Selene snapped, swinging around. "Seven days of filth and silence—and you greet me like this?"
Her voice was cold, wounded, sharp with humiliation. She threw her hairbrush across the chamber, shattering the handle.
"Out! Every one of you. Useless!"
The servants lowered their eyes and stepped back quickly, faces tight with fear. One muttered under her breath, "She's even worse now…"
Selene's sharp gaze caught the words. She ordered them to stop, seized the servant, and handed her over to the guards for severe punishment. The servant pleaded, but Selene would not listen. The rest of the servants remained frozen, silent as a graveyard, sweat trickling down their faces.
-
As instructed by Ava, both queens were to present themselves before her in her quarters before resuming any of their duties.
Aurora arrived first, dressed neatly, her face composed but weary. She bowed deeply before Ava who sat, poised, with a golden shawl draped around her shoulders, a book open in her hand.
"Mother," Aurora said quietly, "I came to offer my deepest apologies for my behavior. It was unworthy of the crown I wear… and I promise, it shall never happen again."
Ava did not speak immediately. Her gaze was unreadable. Then she nodded, closing her book gently.
"I trust you," she said. "But promises are only as strong as the one who makes them. Let yours hold."
Aurora bowed again and stepped to the side.
Selene entered not long after, her head slightly high—trying to carry the air of confidence, though her bruised pride still lingered around her like a cloud. She curtsied stiffly.
"Mother," she said, lips tight, "I am sorry for the disgrace I brought upon the court. I lost my temper, and I regret it. I assure you it will not happen again."
Ava raised an eyebrow. "You may rise, Selene. Remember this—I forgive, but I do not forget. Let your actions in the days ahead prove your worth."
Selene said nothing more. Her eyes flicked briefly to Aurora, who stood still and quiet by the side. But beneath every quiet word was a thousand unsaid things.
As Aurora left Ava Quarters, her maids were waiting again, eyes hopeful.
She smiled faintly and said, "Let us get some air. Perhaps the garden."
Lira grinned. "Yes, Your Majesty. The garden missed you."
At the far end of the hall, Selene walked alone. Not a single maid followed. Her fists clenched at her sides. Her pride bruised. Her anger rekindled. She would not forget. And she would not forgive.
-
To King Aldric, not seeing Aurora for seven days felt like he had lost her for seven years.
Each day blurred into the next, but her image remained sharp in his mind—her voice, soft and unsure, her eyes, always cautious, her presence, a calm he knew he needed. He saw her everywhere—even when she was not there.
In the council chamber, the lords droned on, discussing trade routes and border tensions, but Aldric's gaze lingered on nothing—his mind adrift, searching for white hair and silence. It was Commander Kael who finally leaned in, whispering.
"Your Majesty… Lord Uven just asked for your position on the livestock levy."
Aldric blinked. "Right… continue."
The lords exchanged glances. It was not like him to drift—but none dared question it.
On the sixth day of solitude, Aldric demanded a sparring session—perhaps to clear his mind.
The court yard rang with the clashing of blades as he fought Kael, his longtime right hand and most trusted sword.
But the moment Kael feinted left, Aldric hesitated—just a second. Just enough for Aurora's face to flash across his mind. Then—slash! The blade nicked his side. Not deep, but enough to draw blood.
"Forgive me, Your Majesty!" Kael dropped his sword, kneeling instantly. "I did not mean—"
Aldric raised his hand. No words. Just a small shake of the head. His face unreadable. He turned and walked away.
By the seventh day, a report reached him: the queens had been released. Joy surged through him, and he rose immediately, ready to go to Aurora's chamber.
Commander Kael spoke, "Your Majesty, I trust you have not forgotten the council you must attend."
Aldric paused, his heart sinking. He longed to see Aurora at once, yet the council could not be postponed. He chose duty first—and Aurora after.
-
Aurora had just stepped out of her bathing chamber, her long hair freshly dried and braided gently by her maids. She wore a soft, cream nightgown, simple and elegant. Her maids were arranging her sheets when a knock came at the door.
They paused. Then Faye opened it—eyes widening. She dropped into a quick curtsy. "Your Majesty…"
Aurora's breath caught in her throat. His Majesty? Now?
The maids did not need to be told—they bowed and slipped out without a word.
Aldric stepped inside, his black tunic slightly loosened at the collar, a soft edge to his otherwise sharp posture.
Aurora bowed slightly. "Forgive me, Your Majesty. I… I did not expect your visit."
He studied her quietly for a moment. "I should have sent word. My apologies."
Aurora raised an eyebrow. Did—did he just apologize? Really?
Silence settled for a moment before Aurora, eyes lowering, spoke again.
"Your Majesty…" she paused, voice unsure but steady. "I apologize for what happened with Queen Selene. It was improper. It shamed the crown… and you."
Aldric's brow twitched faintly. He stepped closer, not too near—but enough that his presence felt… warmer.
"You defended someone you loved," he said, simply. "Even if the method was wrong… the heart behind it was true."
Aurora blinked. Her fingers tightened on her nightgown slightly. She had not expected such a soft response.
"Seven days of silence must have been hard on you. I hope you are well."
"Yes, Your Majesty. I am."
He looked away for a second, then back at her—something flickering behind his eyes.
"I came to ask after your health, and…," Aldric said, his voice quieter now, "I came because I needed to say this."
He paused.
"I think of you… too often."
Aurora's breath caught.
"I watch you," he continued, "and I see something I cannot explain. I find myself drawn to you—not for what you've done, not out of duty. Simply… for you."
His voice was steady, not rehearsed, not desperate. Honest.
Aurora was still, the firelight dancing on her face. She expected something more… forceful. But this—this was soft. It was real. Which somehow made it harder to answer.
She looked at him carefully before speaking.
"I will not lie to you, Your Majesty," she said. "I have felt your gaze… but I cannot return your feelings."
His face remained calm, but she saw the small shift—the flicker of something wounded in his eyes.
"I understand," he said. "Still… I had to say it."
Aurora lowered her gaze again, unsure of how to respond.
Then Aldric turned toward the bed and gave a slight gesture. "May I?"
Her heart raced—not from fear, but something she could not name.
"Yes, Your Majesty" she said softly.
He walked to the bed, removed only his robe, and laid down without a word. Aurora followed a moment later, settling on the far edge.
No words. No movement. Just quiet.
-
Aurora woke before the sun, eyelids fluttering open to quiet birdsong.
She sat up quickly, eyes darting to the side of the bed. Empty.
Aldric was gone.
The fire was dying in the hearth. Fresh rose water had been placed by her bedside.
She sat there, still. Confused. Heart heavy.
Then realization struck. She had slept.
For the first time in weeks—no forest. No strange voices. No shadowed woman in cream cloak. Just peaceful sleep.
She touched her cheek, then her chest. Still calm.
Her breath left her in a rush. Was it his presence?Was he the calm to her storm too?
But… why?
She did not know. And that frightened her more than the dreams.
-
The crackle of the hearth was the only sound in the king's chambers, yet Aldric felt colder than ever.
He sat alone at the edge of his bed, his fingers loosely gripping the pendant Aurora had given him. It felt heavier this morning, as if weighed down by the ache in his chest.
He had confessed—simple words, yet sincere. And she had looked at him… not with hatred, not even disdain… but with something far worse: indifference.
He clenched his jaw.
"I cannot return your feelings."
Her voice kept replaying in his mind, calm but unwavering. She had not flinched. Had not hesitated.
It wounded him more than any sword ever had. He had braced himself for her silence, perhaps even cautious curiosity… but not rejection. He was a king. Unloved by many, but never unwanted.
And yet, for the first time, he wanted to be wanted—not for his throne, not for his power—but as Aldric. And she said no.
He let out a breath, slow and heavy, eyes dark. Perhaps love, indeed, was weakness. But if it was… then why did it still burn inside him?
-
Aurora sat by the window, the sun casting a gentle glow over her white dress . The world was quiet, but her thoughts were not.
She had slept peacefully last night—for the first time since the encounter in the market. But this morning… her heart was restless.
His words echoed in her mind.
"I find myself drawn to you."
He had not said it with force, or pride. Just soft, steady honesty. But Aurora could not let her heart soften—not yet. Perhaps not ever.
His kindness, his gifts, even his quiet presence… they unsettled her. Not because they were unwanted—but because they stirred something inside her she could not understand.
Still, she felt no regret for her words. It was the truth. She did not love him—and she was not ready to pretend.
But why did she keep replaying the way his eyes dimmed when she said it?
She turned away from the sun and pulled the curtains tightly around herself.
Her heart remained guarded. And for now… that was safer.