A Royal Trap

On Mission's Way - Part 2

As the eager, fading voices of her sisters were swallowed by the wood, Elowyn fell into step beside Kaelas. A new silence descended, filled only with the soft, lonely sound of two people walking through snow.

The silence between them stretched, thick and heavy as the snow. Only the crunch of their boots and the distant caw of a crow broke the quiet. After what felt to Kaelas like a painfully long ten minutes, he finally spoke.

“What book has you so captivated this time?” he asked, his voice softer than usual.

After what felt to Kaelas like a painfully long ten minutes, he finally spoke. “So. What book has you braving the cold and risking Doria’s wrath this time?”

He was met with more silence. Glancing over, he saw her brow furrowed, her gaze fixed on some unseen point in the middle distance. She had been like this often lately—withdrawn, preoccupied. An odd, persistent sensation had taken root in her: the feeling of being watched. It was a prickle on the back of her neck, a stillness in the air when she was alone in the garden. At times, her mind had wandered into the dark fairytales of her childhood, conjuring images of the legendary Frost Grendels said to roam the deep forest. She knew it was nonsense, stories to frighten children into obedience, yet the feeling remained, an unexplained chill that reason could not melt.

Elowyn?” Kaelas’s voice gently pulled her back to the snowy path and his patient presence beside her.

She blinked, refocusing on him. “Do you think,” she began, her voice tentative, cutting through the quiet, “there might be a larger purpose in inviting people like us—people with mended hems and one good pair of boots—to a royal ball? We are set dressing. We do not fit in that world. We’ve never even seen the King, nor anyone from the palace, truly.”

Kaelas considered, kicking a clump of snow that exploded into a fine powder. “Perhaps it’s a new era of… royal neighborliness. A grand gesture.” A playful grin touched his lips.“Or maybe they are bored, they’ve simply run out of decent rich people and are bored of listening to the wealthy brag about their wealth to other wealthy people, who can only brag back about theirs.”

A genuine, surprised giggle escaped Elowyn, a sound as clear as a bell in the quiet wood. Hearing it, Kaelas’s smile widened, reaching his eyes, which crinkled at the corners. The sight made something flutter in Elowyn’s stomach, so she looked away, focusing on the path.

His expression grew more serious as he ventured his next question. “And you?Are you… going to look for a suitor at this ball of bored royalty?”

Elowyn flushed, the cold air doing little to cool her cheeks. She had never truly allowed herself to consider it. The idea of parading before strangers, making polished conversation like Eden or deploying strategic smiles like Doria, filled her with dread. “Is that not the reason one attends such an extravaganza?”

“Not necessarily,” he said, his voice dropping a fraction, blending with the sigh of the wind. “One could find a suitor much closer to home. In fact, I think it’s far wiser. Someone you already know. Someone in good standing with you… and your family.” He glanced at her, then away.

Elowyn’s heart gave a peculiar, heavy thump. Someone like that? Her mind, traitorously, went to him. Kaelas. Their families were on excellent terms; he’d shared their supper table a hundred times. But he was of higher standing—his father was the town’s respected farrier, a solid world above their own scrabbling poverty. A man like him would need a wife with a dowry, or connections, or at least a relentless social grace. She had none of those. She was plain Elowyn: unremarkable dark brown hair, eyes so brown, and too thin, all angles where other girls had soft curves. His kindness, his occasional lingering glances… she had long since reasoned they were just his nature. He was simply a nice person who felt sorry for the bookish sister.

Feeling the heat in her cheeks becoming a beacon, she swiftly changed the subject, nodding toward the square ahead. “Do you think we’ll actually see the King? Or will he just be a glimmer of gold thread behind a screen?”

Kaelas, sensing her retreat, allowed the shift, though a trace of something—disappointment, perhaps—flickered in his eyes. “He is hosting. It would be the height of rudeness not to attend his own ball. I imagine he’ll make an appearance, if only to gaze upon his suddenly enlarged and motley court and feel very charitable indeed.” His tone was light again, but his eyes held hers for a moment longer than necessary before they both looked ahead, the warm, golden light of the bookseller’s shop window coming into view at the end of the lane.