The shadows of the past

Chapter Four – The Shadows of the Past

Elyra sat in the dim glow of candlelight, staring at the heavy oak door that separated her from the rest of the palace. The chamber assigned to her was lavish but felt eerily empty, as though it had been prepared for someone long gone. The thick velvet drapes muffled the sound of the world outside, leaving her in an unsettling silence.

Her thoughts tangled as she replayed her conversation with Draven. His words echoed in her mind: You are not free. You belong to me now.

She clenched her fists against her lap. No, she refused to let those words define her.

A soft knock at the door broke her thoughts. Before she could respond, Lena entered, her presence a quiet comfort. The older woman carried a tray with warm bread, cheese, and a goblet of wine.

"You should eat," Lena said gently, setting the tray on the table beside Elyra.

Elyra hesitated before reaching for the bread. "Tell me, Lena… what kind of man is he?"

Lena sighed, settling into the chair across from her. "King Draven is not a man to cross. He is… calculating. Ruthless, if need be."

Elyra took a small bite, chewing thoughtfully. "Has he always been this way?"

Lena hesitated. "Once, long ago, he was different."

Elyra's curiosity sharpened. "What changed?"

Lena's eyes flickered toward the darkened window. "A betrayal. One that cost him dearly."

Before Elyra could press further, the door swung open. A tall, broad-shouldered man in a deep crimson cloak stepped in. His face was lined with age and wisdom, his steel-gray hair combed back in sharp contrast to his dark eyes.

"The king requests your presence," he announced. His tone was impassive, giving no room for argument.

Elyra set down her goblet, wiping her hands before rising. Lena gave her a reassuring nod, though there was a flicker of something unreadable in her expression. Worry, perhaps.

She followed the man through the winding halls, torches flickering along the ancient stone walls. As they walked, she couldn't shake the sensation that she was being watched, though every time she glanced back, there was nothing but shadows.

At last, they reached an arched doorway. The man pushed it open, revealing a grand dining hall. A long table stretched between towering columns, its surface adorned with gold and silver platters of food, goblets of the finest crystal, and candles flickering in golden holders.

Draven stood at the head of the table, clad in black, his presence commanding as ever. He gestured to the seat beside him. "Sit."

Elyra did as instructed, feeling the weight of his golden gaze on her.

"I assume Lena has been tending to you well?" he asked, though there was an edge to his voice, as if he expected a particular answer.

"She has," Elyra replied, keeping her tone neutral.

Draven leaned back in his chair. "Good. You will find that loyalty is rewarded in my court."

A subtle warning laced his words. Elyra met his gaze, refusing to flinch. "And disloyalty?"

His lips curled in something that was not quite a smile. "Is not tolerated."

The tension between them crackled, but before she could formulate a response, the doors to the hall swung open. A man in silver armor strode in, bowing deeply before Draven.

"Your Majesty," he said, voice firm. "The emissaries from the western kingdom have arrived. They seek an audience."

Draven exhaled, a flicker of irritation crossing his features before he turned back to Elyra. "Our conversation will continue later."

He stood, and with a mere nod, the guards ushered Elyra out of the hall.

As she walked back to her chambers, she couldn't shake the feeling that this was only the beginning that the king's past was far darker than she had imagined, and that her place in his world was yet to be determined.

That night, sleep did not come easily. Elyra tossed beneath the silken covers, her mind a storm of unease. The echoes of her conversation with Lena and Draven replayed over and over. She could sense a mystery buried beneath the surface, something more than just politics and power.

A faint gust of wind rustled the drapes, making the candlelight dance. Elyra sat up, glancing toward the door. The uneasy feeling of being watched had not left her. She swung her legs over the side of the bed, padding softly toward the window. The moon hung high in the sky, illuminating the darkened courtyard below.

And then she saw it.

A figure, standing in the courtyard, motionless. Cloaked in shadow, its presence sent a chill down her spine. The moment she blinked, it was gone.

She stepped back from the window, heart beating against her ribs. Was her mind playing tricks on her? Or was the palace hiding more than just the king's secrets?

There's one thing she was certain about, she was far from safe in this place.