Kael sat on the sofa, facing Elara. She held a delicate porcelain cup, her fingers graceful, her movements quiet. The room was steeped in silence—no words had passed between them.
He watched her.
She was beautiful. The kind of beauty that didn't need adornment—calm, composed, and every bit the princess this kingdom claimed she was.
Their eyes met. Neither looked away.
Then, at the exact same moment, their voices broke the stillness.
"Who are you?" Elara asked.
"What do you want?" Kael said.
Both were stunned—but Kael more so.
A cold feeling crawled into his chest.
Something was wrong. Deeply wrong.
He straightened slightly, trying to collect himself.
"What do you mean, who am I?" he asked, forcing a casual tone.
"I'm Kaelion Drenlor, heir of House Drenlor—"
"Cut the crap," Elara interrupted sharply. Her voice was low but firm.
"This room is completely sealed. Isolated. You can speak freely. I want to know who you really are."
