Dinner wasn't just a plan.
It was something my sisters insisted on.
"We're doing this after a long time.," one of them said, smiling.
I didn't argue this time.
Maybe because they were right.
Or maybe because… I wanted to believe things were normal.And also I need to celebrate my victory. Even for a few hours.
The restaurant was warm, filled with noise and light. Conversations overlapped, laughter echoed, and for a moment—
I let myself relax.
I listened. I smiled. I answered.
It felt unfamiliar.
But good.
"You seem lighter today," one of them said, watching me closely.
"Do I?" I asked.
"Yeah," she said. "Like something finally went right."
I didn't respond.
But maybe… something had.
Then—
something shifted.
A sudden movement near the counter.
A man grabbing cash.
Voices rising.
"Hey—!"
"Stop him!"
The room tensed instantly.
The man ran, shoving past people, panic spreading behind him.
I froze.
For a split second—
I knew I shouldn't.
Then I did it anyway.
My hand tightened under the table.
The light formed—
small.
Controlled.
Hidden.
Just enough.
The man stumbled mid-step, like something had caught him, crashing hard onto the floor. The money scattered. People rushed forward, shouting, grabbing him before he could get up.
And just like that—
it was over.
I exhaled slowly, forcing myself to stay calm.
Then I turned back to my plate—
and froze.
He was there.
Standing near our table.
Too close.
Too still.
Lucien.
Our eyes met.
His expression wasn't calm.
Not neutral.
Sharp.
He knew.
I looked away instantly, my heart starting to race. I couldn't let my sisters notice.
"I need to take a call," I said quickly, standing before they could question it. "I'll be back."
They didn't stop me.
I walked toward him, forcing myself to stay steady.
But the moment I reached him—
his hand caught mine.
Tight.
The world disappeared.
The noise.
The warmth.
The people.
Gone.
The training ground replaced it in an instant.
Cold.
Silent.
His grip didn't loosen immediately.
It held—
firm.
Controlled.
Then he let go.
"What were you thinking?" he said sharply.
"I was helping," I shot back.
"You were exposing yourself."
"I kept it small—no one saw—"
"I did."
"That's different—"
"No, it's not."
The words hit harder than they should have.
"What was I supposed to do?" I demanded. "Just sit there and watch?"
"Yes."
That answer stung.
"You don't use your power outside controlled conditions," he continued.
"Controlled?" I repeated. "So only when you decide?"
"You don't understand the risk."
"Then explain it!"
This time—
he didn't avoid it.
"When you first used your power," he said, his voice lower now, "it was unstable."
I frowned slightly. "Okay…?"
"It was uneven. Hard to trace."
Something in my chest tightened.
"But now," he continued, "it's stable."
I went still.
"And that makes it traceable."
The word settled heavily.
"Something noticed you before," he added. "That wasn't random."
My breath caught.
"When you used your power just now," he said, his voice sharpening, "you didn't just stop someone."
A pause.
"You told them exactly where to look."
Silence.
Fear crept in slowly.
"You brought me into this," I said, my voice shaking now. "And now you're saying I can't even use it?"
"I taught you to survive."
"That's not the same thing!"
Frustration.
Fear.
Everything hitting at once.
And then—
the voices started.
Faint.
Whispers.
Then louder.
Closer.
I froze.
"…Lucien?"
They overlapped.
Too many.
Too fast.
"Stop…" I whispered, pressing my hands to my head.
They didn't stop.
"Stop!" I shouted.
The ground felt unsteady.
The air too heavy.
"Elara—look at me."
I couldn't.
The voices pressed harder—
pulling—
calling—
Then—
his hands gripped my shoulders.
Firm.
Shaking me.
"Elara."
My breath hitched.
"Look at me."
I forced my eyes up.
The voices—
vanished.
Silence crashed in.
Too sudden.
Too empty.
I stood there, breathing unevenly, trying to steady myself.
But something—
lingered.
Then—
a voice.
Not distant.
Not fading.
Right next to me.
Clear.
Cold.
Certain.
"Your Highness… at last."
My entire body went still.
My breath caught.
Slowly—
I lifted my gaze.
And looked straight at him.
"Lucien…" I said quietly.
A pause.
Then—
steady.
Unshaken.
"Who is their highness?"
The reaction was instant.
Shock.
Real.
Uncontrolled.
"Elara—"
But I didn't look away.
"Who are they?" I asked again, my voice tightening. "And why are they calling me that?"
Silence.
He didn't answer.
And this time—
it wasn't because he didn't want to.
It was because—
he wasn't ready to.