Bound in shadows

Chapter Three – Bound in Shadows

Elyra sat on the edge of the grand bed, her fingers gripping the silk sheets beneath her. The flickering candlelight cast moving shadows along the walls, twisting and bending like silent specters. The room was lavish, too luxurious for someone who felt like a prisoner, but the gilded cage was still a cage.

She had been left here for hours, with no instructions, no company save for the occasional maid who brought food and scurried away without meeting her eyes. It was as if she were a ghost within these walls already.

A soft knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts. Before she could answer, Lena stepped inside, her expression unreadable. The woman bowed slightly before closing the door behind her.

"My lady," Lena said softly. "You should rest."

Elyra shook her head. "How can I, when I don't know what awaits me?"

Lena hesitated, then walked to the small table in the room, pouring tea from a silver pot. The scent of jasmine filled the air. "It is not my place to say," she admitted. "But I would advise caution."

Elyra's jaw tightened. "Caution? Against my own husband?"

Lena's lips pressed into a thin line. "The king is not like other men. He does not love easily, nor does he trust freely. But he is fair in his own way."

Elyra exhaled slowly, trying to steady the storm in her chest. "And what am I supposed to do? Bow to his every command?"

Lena's gaze softened. "You must survive, my lady. However you choose to do so is in your hands."

Elyra turned away, staring out the window. The kingdom stretched beneath her, rooftops glistening under the moonlight. Somewhere out there, people whispered of their new queen. A queen who had no power, no voice. Yet.

The door creaked open again. This time, it was not Lena who entered.

Draven stood in the doorway, his presence filling the room before he even spoke. His golden eyes flickered in the dim light as he studied her, then shifted briefly to Lena.

"You may leave us," he commanded.

Lena bowed and slipped out silently, the door clicking shut behind her.

Draven stepped forward, each movement deliberate. Elyra refused to stand, refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing her shift in discomfort.

"You have been quiet," he mused. "I expected rebellion."

Elyra lifted her chin. "Would it have made a difference?"

His lips curved into something that wasn't quite a smile. "Perhaps."

She hated how he looked at her as if he saw straight through her, as if he already knew what choices she would make before she even made them.

Draven took another step closer, his voice lowering. "This marriage is not a game, Elyra. You are mine now. That is the only truth that matters."

A shiver ran down her spine, though she refused to let it show. "And what of you? Am I to be just another pawn in your empire?"

Draven chuckled, a dark sound. "No, little queen. You are far more than that."

Before she could respond, he reached out, his fingers tracing the edge of her jaw, the touch feather-light. Elyra swallowed hard but did not pull away.

"I wonder," he murmured, "how long before you stop fighting?"

Elyra met his gaze, steel against gold. "I wonder," she whispered, "how long before you regret underestimating me?"

For a moment, neither of them moved, the air between them charged with something neither dared name.

Then, just as quickly as he had entered, Draven stepped back, his expression unreadable once more.

"Rest," he ordered. "Tomorrow, you will begin to understand what it means to be my queen."

With that, he turned and left, the door closing behind him.

Elyra let out a slow breath, her hands still trembling slightly. She had spent her whole life being prepared for this moment.

But nothing could have prepared her for Draven Valerian.