❝ There are no limits to a power as great as yours. ❞
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Aurora Celeste has spent her whole royal life as a Crown Princess and next in line to the throne away from her mother. She has longed for the day they will reunite, but with...
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𝖊𝖑𝖆𝖗𝖆 • the ballroom ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
The woman had returned not long after as Elara stood by a table, entertaining herself with the lilies in the vase that sat perfectly in the middle, as though someone had measured it themselves. She wondered if they had.
A glance around the ballroom told her everything she needed to know, that all those obnoxious people were perfectly content with dancing and drinks and food as a source of their entertainment. How many galas had to be held annually simply for that reason alone?
Granted, there weren't many there save for the Council, but it was still too many for her.
Elara had felt the woman's presence behind her long before she saw her shadows.
Living in the middle of a grove taught her to be mindful of sounds and presences, and most especially her surrounding. She didn't know what could grab at her while she wasn't paying attention—and she didn't want to find out. Now she didn't need to to know.
"What?" she spat, pulling out a lily and staring at the cool water droplets on the petals, looking almost silky and velvety. Beautiful flowers, they were. Her—their (that would take forever getting used to)—mother always spoke of how much a cousin of theirs adored flowers.
She didn't get much of a chance to talk.
"Don't you dare," a voice warned. Elara froze at the sound of it.
Her heart, it had stopped. Frozen in that single moment of time, lost in those few words that belonged to that very voice she had tried so hard to forget.
Xander.
At those words, the woman hurried away.
Whether that was the last of her she didn't know, but she didn't care in that moment.
"Elara," he breathed. She didn't move from where she was, glued to her position.
"What are you doing here?" she asked. The words were barely audible. He probably heard them, though. He always did, even if they were never spoken.
"I was invited."
"By who?"
"Does that matter?"
"Yes!"
"Do you... not want me here?"
"No, Xander," she exclaimed, turning to face him, her eyes red and stinging with the onset of tears she had restricted from moving, "I don't want you here!" Her breath hitched when she saw him, bruised left cheekbone with a cut on the left side of his lower lip.
He stared at her, and then nodded. "Okay. I'll go," he whispered. "It was, um... It was... really good to see you again. One last time."
"What do you mean one last time?" Her heart sunk. He didn't respond and instead turned, walking away. "Xander!"
