Time had a way of slipping unnoticed in Briar's Hollow.
Especially in the bookstore.
Especially when neither of them was willing to leave.
It had begun with a disagreement.
It always did.
"You're reading it wrong," Alaric said, leaning against the edge of the table as Elara frowned down at the open pages.
Her eyes flicked up, sharp. "I'm not."
"You are."
She exhaled slowly, closing the book with more force than necessary. "Then explain."
There was challenge in her tone.
He accepted it.
Without hesitation.
Alaric reached forward, turning the book back toward himself and flipping to the marked section.
"The author assumes victory depends on strength alone," he said. "It doesn't."
Elara crossed her arms. "Strength wins wars."
"No," he replied calmly. "Strength sustains them. It doesn't win them."
Her brows drew together slightly.
He continued.
"Wars are won before they begin," he said, tapping the page lightly. "Supply lines. Positioning. Timing. The willingness to lose something smaller to protect something greater."
Elara watched him now, not just listening, but absorbing.
"And what about loyalty?" she asked. "You dismissed it before."
"I didn't dismiss it," he said. "I placed it where it belongs."
"And where is that?"
He met her gaze.
"Below survival."
Something about that answer unsettled her.
"But people aren't just tools," she said quietly.
"In war, they are."
She shook her head. "That's not true."
"It is," he said. "You just don't want it to be."
Silence followed.
Not the sharp kind.
The heavy kind.
Elara looked down at the pages again, but her focus had shifted.
"You speak like you've seen it," she said.
"I have."
The certainty in his voice left no room for doubt.
She hesitated.
Then, softer...
"And does that not trouble you?"
A pause.
Brief.
Barely there.
"No."
The answer came too quickly.
She noticed.
But she didn't press.
Instead, she reached for another book, opening it beside the first.
"Then teach me," she said.
The words surprised them both.
Alaric studied her for a moment, as if deciding whether she meant it.
She did.
He could see it.
The determination. The quiet refusal to remain ignorant.
It wasn't curiosity.
It was something deeper.
Something… personal.
He nodded once.
"Very well."
Hours passed.
Unnoticed.
Unmeasured.
They moved from book to book, argument to explanation, disagreement to reluctant understanding.
Alaric corrected her.
Elara challenged him.
He explained strategy.
She questioned its cost.
At some point, the tension shifted.
Not gone.
But… changed.
Softer at the edges.
Less guarded.
More real.
"You think too much about what should be," he said at one point.
"And you think too little," she shot back, "about what could be."
A corner of his mouth lifted slightly.
"And yet you keep listening."
"And yet you keep talking."
Neither of them pointed out that neither had left.
By the time Elara stepped outside, the sky had deepened into shades of violet and gold.
Too late.
Far too late.
Her breath caught as reality rushed back in.
The palace.
Her family.
The expectations she had ignored for the sake of a few stolen hours.
She turned back briefly.
Alaric stood just inside the doorway, watching her.
"Will you return?" he asked.
The question felt heavier than it should have.
Elara hesitated.
Then...
"…Perhaps."
It wasn't a promise.
But it wasn't a refusal either.
He inclined his head slightly.
"Then I'll expect you to finish what you started."
A small spark of irritation returned, familiar and grounding.
"Don't assume so much," she said.
But there was no real bite to it.
She turned and left before he could respond.
The palace gates closed behind her with a sound that echoed louder than it should have.
Elara barely had time to steady herself before...
"Where have you been?"
Her father's voice cut through the hall like a blade.
She froze.
King of Eryndor stood at the far end, his expression already darkened with anger.
"I..."
The words never left her mouth.
The strike came fast.
Sharp.
The force of it turned her head to the side, her breath catching as pain bloomed across her cheek.
Silence followed.
Heavy.
Unforgiving.
"You dare wander without permission?" he demanded. "At a time like this?"
Elara's fingers curled at her sides, but she did not raise a hand to her face.
"I went to..."
"Silence."
The word snapped through the air.
"You forget your place," he continued, stepping closer. "You are not a son. You are not an heir. You are not needed in matters of war."
Each word landed harder than the last.
"You are useful for one thing," he said coldly. "And one thing only."
Elara's throat tightened.
"You will be married," he continued. "Sold, if necessary, to secure alliances that your brothers will use to win this war."
Her vision blurred,but she did not look away.
"You exist to serve that purpose," he finished. "Do not mistake yourself for anything more."
The words settled into her like something permanent.
Something that would not leave.
Behind him, her brothers stood in silence.
Watching.
Not one of them unmoved.
Pity filled their expressions, unspoken, but clear.
All except one.
Kael stepped forward.
"You've made your point, Father."
The king's gaze snapped toward him. "Careful."
But Kael did not back down.
He stood tall, his bright green eyes unwavering, his blonde hair catching the light as he placed himself just slightly between their father and Elara.
"She's still our older sister," he said, his voice steady. "Please be gentle with her."
A dangerous silence followed.
The kind that made the air feel thin.
Then…
A shift.
Small.
But enough.
The king exhaled sharply, turning away as if dismissing the moment entirely.
"See that she remembers her place," he said coldly, before walking off.
Only when he was gone did the tension break.
Elara remained where she stood.
Still.
Silent.
Kael turned to her, his expression softening immediately.
"You shouldn't have gone alone," he said quietly.
"I know."
Her voice was steady.
Too steady.
One by one, her other brothers nodded in agreement, offering quiet support in the only way they could.
But none of them truly understood.
Not the suffocation.
Not the need to escape.
Not the way those few hours in a quiet bookstore had felt more real than anything within these walls.
Kael hesitated before stepping closer.
"He didn't mean..."
"Yes, he did," Elara said softly.
She met his gaze.
And for the first time, there was no attempt to hide the truth.
"But thank you."
Kael gave a small nod.
It wasn't enough.
None of it was.
But it was something.
That night, Elara sat alone in her chambers.
The books lay open before her.
Unread.
Her mind wasn't on strategy.
Or war.
Or even the pain still lingering against her skin.
It was on a voice.
A presence.
A boy? No, a man, who spoke of control as if it were the only truth in the world.
Annoying.
Arrogant.
Infuriating.
And...
She closed her eyes briefly.
"…I'll return," she whispered, though no one was there to hear it.
Miles away, in another kingdom, Alaric stood by a window, staring into the dark.
He didn't know why he had asked.
Didn't know why he cared if she returned.
And yet...
He found himself waiting.
For something he did not understand.
For someone he should never have met.