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.