The next morning dawned cool and bright, but Elaine barely noticed. After the harrowing events of the past few days, the exhaustion she had felt during her journey from Hopewell to Calandria had given way to a new kind of fatigue—one of the soul, deep and unrelenting.
Prince Stefan had shown kindness, insisting the maids prepare a room for her, a luxurious chamber compared to anything she'd ever experienced. Yet despite the warmth and comfort, sleep had been elusive. The echoes of the previous day haunted her—the cries of the grieving, the hollow stares of those who had lost everything. Their pain was fresh, raw, and undeniable, and the weight of their disappointment bore heavily on her. She couldn't escape the images, replaying them again and again in her mind.
Now, sitting on a small stool, surrounded by maids who fluttered around her like delicate birds, Elaine tried to keep her thoughts from spiraling. The maids fussed over her, helping her dress in an elegant gown fit for someone of royal blood. Their hands worked swiftly, pulling, adjusting, and securing the fine fabrics in place. They tried to lift her spirits with gentle conversation, complimenting her beauty and exclaiming over the silk gown that shimmered in the morning light.
"You look radiant, my lady," one of them chirped with a bright smile, brushing a strand of her hair back and tucking it into an intricate braid. "Like a princess from the finest tales."
Elaine gave them a small, polite smile in return, but her heart wasn't in it. No matter how kind their words, they felt hollow. The image of the grieving citizens, the mothers and wives who had demanded answers, replayed in her mind. Their voices were sharp and filled with sorrow, accusing her in silence. She wasn't royalty, she was no savior, and certainly not the hero they needed. She had stood by while Stefan and his men fought to defend them, helpless, afraid.
*You should have done more,* a voice whispered in her head. *You failed them.*
Doubt had taken root inside her, growing like a weed, wrapping its tendrils around her thoughts and squeezing them tight. *How could I ever live up to their expectations?* she wondered. She was nothing more than a girl found floating in a river, raised in a quiet village far from the chaos and responsibility of royal life. What did she know about leading, about fighting for a kingdom? About *saving* anyone?
And yet here she was, dressed in silks and surrounded by servants, expected to play a role she had never been trained for, with hopes pinned on her shoulders by people she barely knew. The pressure gnawed at her, tightening her chest.
But she couldn't let them see it. Not the maids, not Stefan—*no one*. They had expectations of her, and she had to meet them, no matter the cost. The people were relying on her, and to show weakness now would only add to their pain. So she pushed the doubt down, buried it deep within her heart, and forced a brighter smile onto her lips.
"You're too kind," she said softly, her voice steady despite the storm brewing inside her.
The maids continued their work, fastening a thin belt around her waist and adjusting the folds of her gown. As they stepped back to admire their handiwork, Elaine stood, catching sight of herself in the full-length mirror. She almost didn't recognize the woman staring back at her.
Gone was the river girl from Hopewell, the one who had been found floating helplessly in a basket, wrapped in a mystery she barely understood. In her place stood someone else entirely—a woman draped in soft fabrics of violet and silver, her hair intricately braided with delicate pins, her face framed by tendrils of dark curls that had been carefully arranged. She looked every bit the part of someone from royal blood, a lady of grace and elegance.
But the reflection felt foreign to her.
*Is this who I'm meant to be?* she wondered. *Is this what they need from me?*
She wasn't sure.
Her fingers lightly touched the gown's sleeve, tracing the delicate embroidery as she took in the transformation. For a moment, her heart ached for the simplicity of Hopewell—the small cottage by the river, the children who would laugh and play, the villagers who had cared for her so dearly. There had been peace there, a life free of the burdens she now carried. And though she had longed for adventure, for answers to her past, she hadn't been prepared for the harshness of reality.
A soft knock at the door interrupted her thoughts.
"My lady," a voice called. "The Prince awaits you in the main dining hall."
The head servant stood just outside, waiting to guide her. Elaine took a deep breath, steeling herself. It was time to face the world beyond this chamber, to meet the expectations that were thrust upon her, no matter how ill-fitted she felt for the role.
With one last glance in the mirror, she nodded to herself, her expression firm. She would have to be strong. If she doubted her place, so would everyone else.
She followed the servant out of her chambers, walking through the long corridors of Calandria's palace. The morning light filtered in through the tall windows, casting golden beams across the stone floors. The servant led the way, walking just a few steps ahead of her. As they moved toward the dining hall, Elaine's heart pounded in her chest, the sense of doubt creeping back into her thoughts. But she shook it off, straightening her back as they approached the large double doors that led into the dining room.
Before she entered, Elaine paused, catching sight of her reflection in a large polished panel nearby. She stood there for a moment, examining herself. The gown shimmered in the light, and the way it fit her made her look regal—like someone worthy of the title she had been given. But even as she stared at her own image, uncertainty gnawed at her.
*I don't belong here,* she thought. *I'm no one important. I'm just… Elaine.*
The thought flickered through her mind, a shadow of self-doubt that refused to be banished. She shook her head slightly, trying to push it away. This was not the time to question herself, not when so much was at stake. She had to focus, to be present, to meet whatever challenges lay ahead.
With a deep breath, she stepped forward.
The head servant opened the doors for her, and Elaine walked into the dining hall, her steps slow but steady. The room was grand, with high ceilings adorned with intricate carvings, and the table stretched long, covered in fine linens and gleaming silver. Prince Stefan was already seated at the head of the table, his posture straight, though the exhaustion from the past few days was evident in the faint shadows beneath his eyes.
He glanced up as she entered, offering her a small, warm smile. It was reassuring, and for a moment, Elaine felt a flicker of relief. At least here, in this room, there was someone who understood the weight they both carried.
"Good morning, Lady Elaine," Stefan greeted her, standing to pull out her chair as she approached. His voice was calm, gentle, but there was a hint of weariness beneath the surface.
"Good morning, Your Highness," she replied, offering him a slight nod as she took her seat.
As the servants began to bring in breakfast—platters of fresh bread, fruit, and delicate slices of cured meat—Elaine tried to push away her lingering doubts. She focused on the task at hand, determined to face the day with the strength and grace expected of her, even if her heart still carried the weight of yesterday's sorrows.