Chapter 15: Dread

The feast was unexpectedly merry. This is the first time Ilaria did not felt dreadful while dining together. After a long evening, the hall finally emptied, the clatter of silverware and soft murmurs fading into serene quiet. The King had remained only briefly, and Levan had left earlier, leaving Ilaria and Melvin to see the remaining family off.

Though she had felt nervous when she first arrived, Ilaria had quickly found her footing after the feast, exchanging smiles and polite words, and had even grown fond of the lively chatter that had filled the room. Now, she did what she was expected to do: guiding the guests to their room, and seeing off those who chose to return to their homes instead of lingering.

Ilaria moved discreetly among the hall, ensuring that the last of the guests were properly seen off. Her hands fluttered nervously as she bid farewell to each departing face, while her heart still feel light from the warmth of the dinner and the unexpected gestures of kindness from her father-in-law.

It was rare for the palace to feel this personal, and she quietly savoured the moment of being the last woman standing in the familiar, regal corridors.

Ilaria stood by the grand doors, giving the last departing carriage a graceful wave. “Farewell, safe travels. May your journey be comfortable and uneventful,” she said, her voice melodic but precise as she watched the carriage move.

Beside her, Melvin raised an eyebrow, suppressing a laugh. “Whoa, careful, princess. If you bow any lower, you might touch the ground.”

Ilaria shot him a mock glare. “I’m only ensuring proper decorum, Melvin. It is polite and expected.”

He smirked, bowing to no one and mimicking her voice in an exaggerated tone, hands clasped delicately like that of a proper lady. “Farewell, safe travels. May your journey be comfortable and uneventful…and may your horses not be too unruly.”

Ilaria’s cheeks flamed pink as she swatted at him. “Stop that! I’m serious!”

Melvin chuckled, shaking his head, clearly having the best time of his life. “You’re adorable when you try to be all serious and proper. Honestly, you sound like a royal manual, especially during dinner earlier.”

She huffed, crossing her arms but failing to hide her smile. “I’m simply behaving as is expected of me. I can’t leave a bad impression to my new family.”

“Expected, huh?” he teased again. “Well, good luck keeping that up when you’re chasing after your husband like a mischievous little fox later.”

Ilaria’s eyes widened, and she quickly looked away, her smile breaking into a soft laugh. “I—well…that’s different.”

Melvin shook his head with a grin, straightening up while stretching his arms like it had been a long day. “Well, no more guests, looks like the palace is finally ours to enjoy for a while. I have somewhere I need to be, though.”

Ilaria tilted her head. “Oh…already?”

“Don’t worry,” he said with a wink, “I’ll see you tomorrow. Take care of yourself, alright?”

She gave him a cheerful nod, then a small bow. “Of course, Melvin. Safe travels to your destination~”

With a teasing smirk, he gave her a mock salute. “Farewell, Your Highness of All Things Proper,” and turned to leave.

Ilaria watched him go, letting out a soft giggle before turning back to the emptying hall. The quiet returned, and for a moment, she savoured the stillness.

As the guards closed the doors behind the empty courtyard, Ilaria prepared to return to her chamber. But then, a faint shadow flickered past, catching her eye. Any ordinary person might have missed it, but she was no ordinary observer, and certainly no certified lover girl if she could not recognize the unmistakable silhouette of her own husband.

Perhaps it was because of her elevated mood, which was still soaring from the day’s events, it made her heart skip in anticipation. Before she could think better of it, her feet carried her forward, lightly trotting after him, her voice bubbling out almost instinctively. “Husband! Husband~”

The crown prince paused mid-step. If anyone dared to call out to him with such cheer, it could only be the princess. She had always been talkative and irritatingly bubbly since the first day they met eight years ago, so at this point, he had grown accustomed to the sound.

Ilaria’s pace quickened, her little hands swinging by her sides as she move her heels to catch up. “Husband, wait! Don’t walk so fast~” she called, her cheeks warm with excitement and a little exertion.

He finally came to a halt beside one of the grand hallway’s towering pillars, giving her the chance to catch up. If there was one lesson he had carried from eight years ago, it was this: there was no silencing her. She would chase him down with that persistence until she got her way. Annoying as it was, yielding had always proven the wiser choice.

His gaze swept on the sound of her heels against the floor. “Don’t run, you’ll fall.”

She obediently slowed down her pace. When she reached him, she came up on her toes, eyes sparkling. “Did you…have a good time at the feast?” she asked, trying to sound casual but failing spectacularly, her eagerness spilling out.

Levan regarded the eager look on her face, finding it more irksome than endearing. It has only been a day since he came back, yet he already feel like she was getting on his nerves. “It was acceptable,” he said at last, his voice clipped and deliberately restrained.

Ilaria grinned, practically bouncing on the balls of her feet. “I thought so too! It was wonderful…and everyone was so nice to me!” Her voice rose a little, as if she could not contain the happiness from the evening.

Levan nodded. “Good,” he said simply. “Enjoy it while you can, the next few days may be busier.”

Ilaria bobbed her head with the same bright energy, though her voice gradually softened, as though reining in her cheer before it could grate on him further.

“Then…are you going somewhere, husband?” she asked carefully, her smile still present but gentler now, as if she were testing how close she could stand without driving him away.

“Yes,” he answered shortly.

Ilaria blinked, tilting her head with curiosity. “Where to?”

He stilled for a fraction of a second before replying, “That is not for you to concern yourself with.” His tone was calm but firm, drawing a quiet line she was not meant to cross.

“…Oh,” she murmured, lowering her gaze, the brightness in her voice dimming slightly though the smile never fully left her face.

After a heartbeat, she gathered herself again, tilting her head up at him. “Will you be long?”

“I don’t know,” he replied flatly. “But you’re delaying me now.”

Her eyes widened and she immediately stepped back. “Oh! Sorry, sorry!” She lifted her hands slightly in a careful gesture, as though ushering him on. “Goodbye, then. I hope your matters go well.”

And he did. Ilaria lingered just long enough to watch him stride away down the corridor, his figure soon swallowed by the shadows. Only then did she turn the other way, her steps was quieter and more measured now, though the small curve at the corner of her lips refused to leave.

Husband stopped and talked to me, at least.

Once she returned to her chamber, the first thing she did was plop on her bed. Today has been very exhausting, but also full of great foods and nice conversations. It suddenly made her miss her sister. She just knew she would be elated to have a family dinner this grand too. It has been a while since they have one.

Ilaria rolled over on her bed and reached for the drawer of her bedside table, where she kept every letter exchanged with the Queen of Caelwyn. Her sister, Serenya Elayne Ryuu, had always been a busy woman, yet never once had she allowed Ilaria to feel lonely. Especially after their father’s death from illness three years ago.

I should write more letters.

She traced her fingers over the White Dragon seal stamped on each envelope. Though it had only been six months since she left home, the growing stack of letters made it feel as though five years had passed, because no matter how busy Serenya was, she never failed to write back to Ilaria.

Since childhood, Serenya had always been fond of Ilaria, faithfully heeding their parents’ words to care for her younger sister. While Serenya was given books on politics and war, she would pass toys and macarons into Ilaria’s eager hands instead. And when the day came that she was chosen in The Coronation of Wings, relief washed over her.

Not because she would be Queen. Not because the White Dragon had acknowledged her as its next master. No…Serenya was relieved because her being chosen meant that Ilaria would never have to bear the weight of such crushing responsibilities. And Ilaria never did. All her life, she has only known how to live without needing to lift a finger on pressing matters.

Sister is too kind to me.

Ilaria sighed, though a soft smile lingered on her lips. She was already planning her return to Caelwyn, eager for the day she could sit once more on the fountain steps of their castle, trading stories with her sister just as they had in childhood. She has already accumulated enough fun stories for her.

Speaking of which..where’s Melyn?

Ilaria turned onto her back, greeted only by the silence of her chamber. No wonder she had not been disturbed, her maids, who usually bustled about at this hour, were nowhere to be seen. The room felt unusually still, the lanterns left to burn low, their light faint and wavering as if they, too, had been neglected for some time.

Legends often whispered…that the moment one set foot into the Land of Darkness, an oil lamp must always be carried. Its light was said not only to keep the path clear but also to ward away the lurking beasts of shadow. They even wove it into song…one Ilaria once heard sung by a bard in Obsidianhold, the capital of Noctharis.

“Oh seeker of flame, hold fast to your light,

For shadows will feast where there is no light.

Laughing, they follow the careless who stray,

Snatching their souls to be hidden away.”

The melody lingered like a warning etched in flame, and Ilaria felt goosebumps ripple across her skin. The palace walls might have been forged to withstand any force, yet even such strength could not dispel the creeping dread curling inside her chest.

Ah…I’m thinking too much over a song…

Slowly, she pushed herself off the bed and crossed the chamber, her hands trembling as she reached for the lantern despite how much she steadied herself. With practiced motions, she coaxed the wick to life, watching as the small flame sputtered, then caught.

She waited, her breath shallow as the glow spread, chasing away the shadows in hesitant waves. For a moment, the warmth steadied her, until a sudden gust of cold air swept through the chamber. The flame flickered violently, then wavered, dimming as though smothered by unseen fingers.

In an instant, the chamber was dark again.

Ilaria froze. The chill shook her body, raising the hairs on her arms and neck. Slowly, as dread coiled tighter around her, she turned toward the source. And her heart lurched. Because the balcony…The doors she was certain she had shut before now stood wide open, the curtains billowing inward like the breath of some unseen intruder.

In a split second, Ilaria went rigid, her body rooted to the floor as though the stone itself had claimed her. Only her eyes dared to move, darting slowly as she scanned the darkened chamber. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears, each pulse louder than the last. There is only two choices clawing at her mind, either close the balcony doors…or turn and run.

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