"Come on, we're gonna be late" Elara urges the king, a bubbly giggle escaping her as she jogs to the hall of sultan.
She turns to find the king miles away from her. She groans out before jogging back to him.
"Look, we need to jog so that the gold could dry out"
"We don't need to do anything" the king clarifies.
Elara rolls her eyes, scoffing. "Don't be ridiculous. Come on"
Without thinking she grabs his hand and starts jogging through the inner garden to the lower halls.
The king was caught in a trance, by how her hands feel on his, by how her small body's trying to drag him.
He knows he should retract his hand, instill fear in her because out of all his subjects, she's the most daring one.
But he just couldn't find the strength to do that and the unspeakable fear of what he may be feeling covers him.
Meanwhile in the hall of sultans, high priest Elion gazes out the window with a knowing smile carving his face.
