The morning of the festival began in silence, not the gentle kind Elowen remembered from childhood, when dawn filtered through silk curtains and her mother’s voice carried softly through the halls. This silence pressed against the palace walls, heavy with expectation.
Princess Elowen stood at the tall window of her chamber, looking out over the city of Valmere. From this height, it was beautiful. Blue stone rooftops caught the early light, banners stirred in the spring air, and the harbour circled and cut through it all like a polished blade, but she had learned long ago that beauty rarely told the whole story.
Below, the festival was already taking shape. Market stalls lined the streets, musicians tuned their instruments and children darted between carts, chasing ribbons. It looked like celebration, but up close, it would look like hunger pretending to be joy.
“They’re watching the guards.”
Elowen didn’t turn; she knew the voice. “They always are,” she said evenly. Today just gives them a reason to gather.”
Seraphine stepped beside her, her reflection appearing faintly in the glass. Where Elowen wore pale blue silk, her sister stood in crimson, composed and unreadable.
“You should be pleased,” Seraphine said. “Half the kingdom is here to admire you.”
“Or judge me.”
“Both.”
A quiet pause settled between them.
“You know why Father is doing this,” Seraphine added.
Elowen’s gaze remained on the city. “I’m meant to smile, dance, and convince them I’m ready to belong to someone else.”
“You say that like it’s a tragedy.”
Elowen turned, the movement small but deliberate. “Isn’t it?”
Seraphine studied her, something softer flickering beneath her composure. “Only if you forget you still have choices.”
Elowen let out a breath that almost became a laugh. “Do I?”
A knock interrupted them. “Your Highness,” came Isolde’s voice from the door. “The court is gathering.”
Elowen straightened. “Then let them gather.”
The great hall glittered with expectation. Nobles drifted through it in layers of silk, their attention carefully disguised. When Elowen entered, the shift was immediate, though no one acknowledged it outright, that would be crude. Conversations faltered and resumed; glances lingered just a moment too long. She smiled because she had been taught to.
Isolde appeared at her side, adjusting a sleeve with practiced precision. “You look composed,” she murmured.
“I am composed.”
“You are convincing.”
Elowen glanced briefly at her. “Tell me something honest.”
Isolde didn’t hesitate. “Half the nobles want to ally with you. The other half want to control you. All of them are wondering which man will succeed.”
“That does sound honest.”
A horn sounded and the King entered.
“Elowen,” her father said, extending his hand. She took it and stepped forward as he addressed the court. “Today we celebrate unity, prosperity, and the future of Valmere.”
Applause followed.
“You will walk among the people,” he said more quietly to her. “Let them see you... Let them believe in you.”
“And if they don’t?”
His grip tightened slightly. “Then you will make them.”
By midday, the palace gates stood open and Elowen stepped into sunlight, music, the smell of food and the press of people, and for a moment, it almost felt real. She moved through the crowd, guards keeping a careful distance. Some people bowed. Others watched.
A child nearly collided with her before being pulled back by a hurried mother.
“Forgive us, Your Highness.”
“There is nothing to forgive,” Elowen said, lowering herself slightly.
The child stared at her. “You’re the princess.”
“I am.”
He hesitated. “Will there be enough food today?”
Her smile didn’t falter. “Yes,” she said gently. She didn’t know if it was true.