Trials and Journeys

Chapter Ten: Trials and Journeys

The sun rose over the kingdom, its light barely illuminating Elara's new harsh reality. The maids were relentless, ensuring she didn't forget her fall from grace. That morning, her task was to wash the royal linens. She worked diligently, her fingers raw from scrubbing the intricate fabrics, determined not to provoke further punishment.

The other maids, however, had other plans. Each time she hung a garment to dry, someone would "accidentally" knock it into the dirt, forcing her to start over. By midday, Elara's arms ached, and her frustration simmered beneath her quiet demeanor. She bit her lip to hold back tears, knowing any sign of weakness would only embolden her tormentors.

As the sun dipped lower, Elara finally finished the task and headed toward a shaded corner to rest. Her reprieve was short-lived as Hector, the second prince, appeared. His presence carried an air of mockery, and the smirk on his lips made her stomach churn.

"Isn't this a sight?" Hector said, leaning against a nearby pillar. "The once-proud human princess reduced to a laundress. You wear the role well."

Elara's cheeks flushed, but she kept her voice steady. "Do you always take pleasure in others' misfortune, Your Highness?"

Hector chuckled. "Only when they bring it upon themselves. Clara is still fuming about that little incident with Nessa, by the way. I hear she's taken quite an interest in your new position."

"Is Nessa well?" Elara asked, hoping to steer the conversation.

"She's recovering," Hector replied nonchalantly. "Though I doubt she'll be playing in the gardens anytime soon. You humans are surprisingly fragile."

Elara's hands clenched at her sides, but she refused to rise to his bait. She bowed slightly and excused herself, leaving Hector behind as she trudged back toward the servant quarters.

---

Far from the palace, Draven's journey was progressing steadily. The group of fifty men he had carefully chosen, with Levi's counsel, were among the finest soldiers in the kingdom. They moved through dense forests and rocky paths, their silence only broken by the occasional snap of twigs underfoot.

Draven's thoughts, however, were not entirely on the mission. Despite himself, his mind drifted back to Elara. He could picture her sitting on the swing in the garden, her hair catching the sunlight. A pang of guilt struck him for leaving her in a place where she was neither respected nor understood.

Levi, ever observant, noticed Draven's preoccupied expression. "You're quieter than usual," he remarked, walking beside his prince.

Draven cast a glance at his trusted companion. "Just... thinking."

"About her?" Levi asked, a knowing glint in his eye.

Draven sighed. "She's alone in that palace. Surrounded by vipers who would rather see her fail than succeed. I shouldn't have left so abruptly."

Levi nodded thoughtfully. "She's stronger than she looks, Draven. She'll find her way. But don't let your thoughts wander too much—we have work to do."

Draven nodded, resolving to focus on the mission. But deep down, he couldn't shake the unease that lingered in his heart.

---

Back at the palace, Elara returned to the servants' quarters, her body weary from the day's work. She longed for rest but knew there was little respite in her current state. As she lay on the narrow cot, her thoughts turned to Draven.

Would he be safe? Would he think of her as she thought of him now? The uncertainty gnawed at her, but she found a flicker of solace in the memory of his kindness, his strength.

For now, she would endure. For him.

---

As the evening sun cast long shadows across the palace grounds, Elara sat in the corner of the servants' quarters, her arms aching and her spirit heavy. She barely noticed when a maid handed her a folded letter sealed with the familiar emblem of her father's house.

Her heart clenched as she recognized her mother's handwriting. For a moment, she hesitated, her fingers trembling as they hovered over the seal. Taking a deep breath, she broke it open and unfolded the parchment.

The letter was simple, but each word carried the weight of her mother's worry and love:

> My dearest Elara,

I hope this letter finds you well, my child. It pains me to know you are far from home, but I trust that you are adjusting to your new life. Please tell me, how is your husband? Does he treat you with the kindness you deserve? Are you eating enough? Sleeping well?

Your brother sends his regards, though he wishes he could have accompanied you to your new home. He says you've always had a strength we all admired, even when you doubted yourself.

Write to me when you can. I long to hear your thoughts and to know you are safe. Remember, my heart is with you always.

Love,

Mother

Elara read the letter twice, each word soaking into her mind like a balm for her battered soul. Yet, the mention of her brother, Henry, brought a pang of bitterness. They had grown up in different places, raised by separate hands, and while he had always been kind, he was a stranger in many ways.

And her mother's concern about Draven… how could she explain the complicated dance of kindness and distance between them?

Elara folded the letter carefully and set it aside. She could already imagine her mother's face, pale and lined with worry, waiting for a reply. Yet, she found herself unable to write one.

"What would I even say?" she murmured to herself. "That I'm treated like a servant in my own home? That I miss her more than I ever thought possible? That I..." She paused, her voice catching in her throat. "That I'm afraid?"

Her hand clenched the letter tightly before she released it with a shaky breath. No, she wouldn't write back. Not now. The weight of the truth would be too much for her mother to bear.

---

The following morning, Elara forced herself to rise early, unwilling to endure the humiliation of being doused with water again. She performed her duties with silent resolve, her mind lingering on the letter she had tucked away in a small drawer.

As she moved through the halls, she wondered if Draven had received word of their life here. Would he have intervened if he knew? Or did he assume she was living a life of luxury in his absence?

Her thoughts returned to the swing in the garden, where she often sought solace. But as she passed through the grand halls, she felt a deep sense of isolation. The palace, despite its grandeur, felt more like a gilded cage with every passing day.

Draven's absence hung over her like a shadow, but she pushed the thought aside. She needed to survive this, if only to prove to herself that she could.