The Nymiren's bride

CHAPTER 3

Elara tossed around in her sleep, twisting under her blanket. Her forehead was sweaty, and her lips parted like she was trying to speak. Her breathing was fast and uneven. The soft moonlight lit her face, but her eyes stayed shut, trapped in a restless dream. In her mind, she was running. She ran barefoot through the forest, branches scratching her arms and legs. Her dress was torn and hanging off her shoulders. The air was cold and wet, and every breath she took burned her lungs. Something was chasing her. She couldn't see it, but she could hear its heavy steps, deep growls, getting closer and closer. Her legs ached, but she couldn't stop running. The forest was too quiet, too dark, and every tree looked like it was taunting her.

Suddenly, a gnarled tree root, hidden beneath a carpet of moss, snaked across her path. There was a sickening twist, a desperate attempt not to fall, then the world spun. A sharp, burning pain shot through her ankle as it snapped. She hit the ground hard, and the air was knocked out of her. Panic, cold and heavy, took over. Her eyes were wide and wild, darting around, looking for a way out that wasn't there. The beast's ragged breaths were terrifyingly close. Fear squeezed her chest tighter with every step. A hand reached out from the shadows and grabbed her throat. She couldn't breathe. She kicked and scratched, but his hand squeezed tighter. She was about to lose consciousness when he let her go. She got up in bed, gasping for air. Her eyes were wide with fear, her hand clutching her throat. It was a dream, but it felt too real.

A soft knock at the door broke the silence, and a maid entered with a discreet curtsy.

" Good morning, my princess, it's time for your bath," the maid said.

Still reeling from the dream she had, Elara didn't respond. The maid quietly prepared a warm bath for her. " Your bath is ready, Miss," she said softly.

Elara slowly swung her legs off the bed, the cold stone floor biting at her bare feet. Her fingers still lingered at her neck, half expecting bruises. She rose, silent and pale, and walked to the steaming bath. The scent of lavender and mint did little to calm the storm brewing inside her. As she stepped into the water, she closed her eyes and let out a long, shaky breath. She knew that the dream had something to do with her wedding, and it was just her mind playing tricks on her. But she couldn't shake off the feeling that it meant something. She wanted to stay longer in the bath and let the water soak all her worries away, but she couldn't; she needed to get ready. Today is the day her father, the king, announces her wedding to the Prince of Northmire. She's supposed to make an appearance and invite everyone to the ball her father will be throwing to celebrate her engagement to the prince. After her bath, the maid helped Elara get dressed. She slipped into a cornflower blue dress, its fabric a soft caress against her skin, adorned with a delicate scattering of white and gold wildflowers that seemed to shimmer with an inner light. The shade of blue in the dress was an exact mirror of her large, luminous eyes, which were the color of a clear summer sky, framed by long, dark lashes. Her complexion was fair and translucent, like the finest porcelain, with a faint, healthy flush on her cheeks. As her rich, chocolate-brown silk hair was gently brushed, it cascaded down her back, catching the light. Elara was truly a vision of loveliness.

"You look beautiful, my lady," the maid said, stepping back to look at her.

" Thank you," Elara said softly. " Please let Father know I'm ready." The maid nodded and slipped out of the room.

Elara sat before the dressing mirror, her fingers clenched on her dress as she stared into her reflection. Her eyes searched the glass, as though hoping it would say something to her, tell her that everything would be alright. But the mirror remained silent. With a quiet breath, she rose to her feet, smoothing the folds in her gown. There was no time to delay, so she left her room, her footsteps echoing through the stone corridors like the slow tolling of a bell.

In the grand throne room, sunlight streamed through stained-glass windows, casting colored patterns across the cold marble floor. Courtiers, nobles, and citizens of the kingdom slowly gathered, murmuring with curiosity. Elara sat to the right of her father, the king, her posture poised yet distant. When the last murmurs had quieted down, the king rose from his throne. His voice rang out, deep and commanding.

" Good morning, my people," he began. " I have summoned you here today to share an important announcement, one that will mark a new alliance between two great kingdoms. My daughter, Princess Elara, is engaged to the prince of Northmire, and we'll be having a ball to celebrate, and you are all invited.

The room froze; they'd all heard about the prince and how rootless and cruel he was. His cold demeanor and the rumors that follow him. A few gasps escaped the crowd. Others simply exchanged glances, confused, stunned. Why would the king give his only daughter to him? Some faces turned toward Elara, eyes wide with disbelief, pity etched into their expressions. Others, those who envied Elara's beauty, watched with quiet satisfaction. Elara said nothing; she was still, her face composed like a mask.

" Now go and prepare for the ball this evening," the king said, his voice firm.

One by one, everyone began to file out of the throne room, their footsteps echoing off the stone walls.