Chapter 5 - Shadows in the Bedchamber
Midnight descended upon the royal palace like a heavy woolen blanket.
Claire sat by the hearth in her private chambers, staring into the dancing orange flames. The wedding banquet had been a dizzying blur of false smiles, venomous whispers, and endless toasts from lords who looked at her with thinly veiled contempt.
Now, she was alone in the quiet sanctuary of her apartments. Or so she thought.
A soft knock sounded at the heavy oak connecting door between her chambers and the king’s private study. Before she could answer, the door swung open, and Elian stepped inside.
He had discarded his heavy armor, wearing only a loose white linen shirt open at the collar and dark trousers. Without his regal armor, he looked less like an untouchable monarch and more dangerously human—though the unnatural pallor of his skin and the slight shiver in his frame betrayed his royal bloodline's dark secret.
“You’re still awake,” Elian noted, walking toward the fire and holding out his large hands to the warmth.
“It is difficult to sleep when the entire kingdom is gossiping about whether I am a troll or a ghost,” Claire replied dryly, though her eyes lingered on the way the firelight caught the sharp angles of his face.
Elian let out a short, humorless breath. “Let them talk. Their opinions carry no weight.”
He suddenly shivered, his shoulders tensing as a violent tremor wracked his powerful frame. He crossed his arms tightly over his chest, his breath pluming slightly in the cooling air of the room, despite the roaring fire.
Claire frowned, standing up from her chair. “You’re freezing again. Every time I see you in the evening, you’re shaking.”
“It is nothing,” Elian said stiffly, turning away from her. “A minor ailment of the royal bloodline. Nothing for a queen to concern herself with.”
“A minor ailment that makes the most feared Alpha King in Artoria look like he’s standing in a blizzard?” Claire challenged, stepping closer. Without thinking, she reached out and touched his forearm.
His skin felt like jagged ice. It was so cold it burned her fingertips.
Elian flinched, pulling his arm away as if he had been struck by lightning. His gray eyes flared with a sudden, wild panic—a raw vulnerability that terrified him far more than any battlefield enemy.
“Do not touch me,” Elian rasped, his voice dropping into a harsh warning. “You agreed to the terms, Claire. A title, a crown, an heir. Not familiarity.”
Claire pulled her hand back, a sting of rejection hitting her chest, mixed with a stubborn surge of anger. “I am your wife, Elian, whether you want to admit it or not. You cannot lock me in a palace and expect me to act like a piece of furniture while you freeze to death in front of my hearth!”
Elian stared down at her, his chest heaving, his jaw clenched so tightly it looked ready to fracture. For a terrifying second, Claire thought he would summon the guards, order her silenced, or banish her to the deepest dungeon.
May you like
Instead, he turned on his heel, wrenched the connecting door open, and vanished into his study, slamming the heavy wood shut behind him.
Claire stood alone in the firelight, her heart aching with a strange, confusing sorrow.
