Elowen's POV:
I exhaled softly.
I folded the letter.
I could not finish it.
Tonight, I would not put words to what I felt.
Especially not to my father.
Above me, the moon shifted behind a drifting cloud.
And somewhere within the palace walls, a prince with damp linen and knowing eyes carried the memory of spilled water — and the way she had looked at him.
Next Day:
Morning light streamed into the preparation hall in long, pale ribbons.
The room no longer felt ornamental. It had transformed into a battlefield disguised in silk. Scrolls lay unfurled across tables. Ink pots crowded polished wood. Voices murmured in strategic clusters.
Two days.
I stood at the central table she now unofficially shared with Selene and Hailey. We had claimed it early, before the others arrived in waves of perfume and quiet rivalry.
Hailey looked up first. "Good. We reconvene."
Selene offered a warm smile. "I've drafted the foundation of my economic model."
I sat, smoothing my skirts. "Then let's begin."
They leaned in.
Selene began confidently. "Unrest often begins with financial strain. Heavy taxation in unstable regions only fuels resentment. My proposal lowers tariffs temporarily in affected provinces while incentivizing guild expansion."
She looked at me for approval.
I nodded slowly. "That will earn public favor."
Hailey tilted her head. "But what prevents loss of royal revenue?"
Selene hesitated — just slightly.
I answered before the pause could linger.
"You offset through merchant exclusivity rights," I said smoothly. "Grant temporary monopolies to loyal guilds in exchange for supply guarantees."
Selene's eyes widened. "Yes. Exactly."
Hailey tapped her quill against her chin. "Risky. Monopolies breed corruption."
"Only if permanent," I replied calmly. "Make the privilege conditional. Revoke it the moment prices inflate."
Selene's posture straightened. She began writing quickly, incorporating the refinement.
Hailey studied me briefly.
"You've thought through this thoroughly."
I only offered a small shrug. "Food shortages destabilize markets before armies ever mobilize."
Selene beamed. "That's why we coordinate tone. My economic relief softens unrest. Hailey's diplomacy prevents escalation. And Elowen ensures no one starves."
Hailey smirked faintly. "You make it sound heroic."
Selene laughed softly.
But my gaze drifted toward the grain reports.
Food controls nations more effectively than armies.
I had said that before.
And it was true.
Which meant my argument — if fully presented — would be the most foundational.
The most difficult to counter.
The most powerful.
I folded my hands instead.
"Selene," I said gently, "when you present tariff reduction, lead with the human impact. Mothers. Shopkeepers. Craftsmen."
Selene blinked. "Emotion?"
"Yes," I said. "Make the council feel relieved before they calculate numbers."
Hailey's brows rose. "You're advising softness."
"I'm advising persuasion."
Selene leaned closer, visibly encouraged. "And if they press for fiscal recovery?"
"Shift to phased taxation return," I replied smoothly. "Not abrupt reinstatement. Tie it to harvest recovery rates."
Selene wrote furiously.
Hailey narrowed her eyes slightly. "That's clever."
"It's practical," I corrected.
We shifted to Hailey's diplomacy strategy next — border alliances, noble loyalty, measured military redistribution.
I offered insight where necessary, but less than before.
I did not expand on supply chain leverage.
I did not reveal how grain routes could be manipulated to pressure rebellious lords.
I did not mention that controlling storage houses near border territories could ensure political compliance without open conflict.
I kept those thoughts to myself.
Instead, I strengthened Selene's structure further.
"When you conclude," I said softly, "do not claim control."
Selene frowned. "But sovereignty requires authority."
"Yes," I agreed. "But unrest listens better to reassurance than dominance. Frame your governance as a partnership."
Hailey glanced at Selene.
"You're shaping her to be chosen."
The words were light.
But they landed heavily.
Selene laughed awkwardly. "Chosen? It's only a trial."
Is it? I wondered.
I met Hailey's gaze calmly. "We agreed to coordinate tone."
Hailey held my eyes a moment longer — as if searching for something unspoken — then looked back down at her parchment.
We worked another hour refining transitions and anticipating council objections.
By the end, Selene's proposal gleamed.
It was balanced.
Compassionate.
Strategically layered.
It would be difficult to fault.
Selene leaned back at last, breathless but radiant. "If I present it well…"
"You will," I assured.
Hailey studied Selene's pages. "You may very well outshine us."
Selene flushed with pleasure.
I smiled — and meant it.
Selene laid down her quill at last, cheeks faintly flushed from the intensity of refining her economic proposal.
"If I open with provincial relief and close with phased recovery," she said, reviewing her notes, "it feels balanced. Compassionate but structured."
"It does," I replied. "You anchor it in relief. That softens resistance before you introduce policy."
Hailey leaned back in her chair. "You sound like you've presented before a council."
I gave a small shrug. "Councils are only rooms filled with men who fear losing control."
Hailey barked a short laugh. Selene giggled.
Then Selene's expression shifted.
"Oh," she said suddenly, lowering her voice. "Speaking of men who fear losing control…"
Hailey arched a brow. "That tone never leads anywhere dull."
Selene leaned closer across the table, eyes bright with restrained excitement.
"I saw him."
I kept her gaze on the grain reports for half a second longer than necessary before looking up.
"Saw who?" Hailey asked dryly.
Selene pressed her hand lightly to her chest. "His Highness."
The words landed softly — but not without weight.
My fingers stilled against the parchment.
Hailey leaned forward. "And?"
Selene exhaled, as though reliving it.
"It was yesterday evening. I was returning from the west corridor after reviewing trade maps. The hall was nearly empty."
My pulse ticked once, sharp and unwelcome.
"And then," Selene continued breathlessly, "he turned the corner."
Hailey smirked faintly. "That's hardly poetic."
Selene ignored her. "He was alone."
I felt something shift inside her — subtle, unsettling.
Alone.
"He paused," Selene said, lowering her voice further. "Right in front of me."
My gaze sharpened almost imperceptibly.
"He looked directly at me," Selene went on, cheeks turning pink. "Not through me. At me."
Hailey's lips twitched. "What did he say?"