The gavel's echo had barely faded, and the Queen's decree of banishment hung over the grand hall like a guillotine. Three days. That was all the time left before the stranger, marked as guilty of espionage, would be cast out from the walls of the Crowned Isles, his name erased from court records and his presence left to the wilderness beyond.
The Parliament stirred in divided whispers. The Wyrdsworn of the Whispers of Eiravell had departed, his veiled warning to the court still clinging to the air like smoke. But the final vote had landed squarely on the Queen's side. Guilty. The Queen stood tall, stoic. But beneath that practiced regality simmered a firestorm waiting to burst.
Princess Elyra followed her mother in silence as they left the court, the weight of what had transpired tightening like a knot in her chest. Once behind the security of the marble corridor walls, the Queen turned sharply, voice steel.
"You disobeyed a direct order. You humiliated the court."
"I did what you wouldn't," Elyra snapped. "Someone had to stand up. Someone had to care."
The Queen's eyes narrowed, her tone edged with grief. "You are a princess, not a martyr. You are the last I have left. The kingdom needs you—not gallivanting after anomalies with foolish ideas and bleeding hearts."
"Needs me? Or owns me? You keep me like a jewel locked in a vault, Mother. I'm not a child. I'm not some fragile remnant you can hide away."
The Queen stepped closer. "You think your brother had freedom? He was supposed to take the throne—until his recklessness cost him his life. I won't lose you, too."
Elyra's voice cracked, but she didn't back down. "Then maybe stop keeping me in a cage."
The guards stood still as statues as the Queen stormed away, the echoes of her footsteps merging with the silence.
Elyra turned to them, brushing tears from her cheeks. She softened her voice, full of honeyed grace. "Please. My mother is emotional, you understand. But I must be allowed a moment with the accused. It is only right."
The guards hesitated.
"You know who I am," she added, gently. "And you know I don't make such requests lightly."
They shifted. One cleared his throat. "One of us must remain at the door."
She nodded, masking the triumph in her chest. "That is fair."
Down the cold corridor and into the chamber where he was held, she found him—wrapped in fresh bandages, crimson blooming through. He sat upright on a stone slab, body tense, eyes glaring toward the far wall.
A lone guard inside turned at her entrance and bowed awkwardly.
"Your Highness?"
"Why is he not being treated properly?"
"We tried. But... he seems resistant to healing spells. Everything cast just fades."
She moved forward, her voice firm. "Leave us. Stand outside the door."
"I—"
"That was not a suggestion."
The guard looked to the still-silent prisoner, then reluctantly left.
She approached, and the man averted his gaze.
"I came to apologize."
Silence.
"I didn't know it would turn out like this. I tried to stop the verdict—"
"You failed."
His words were quiet but struck like stone.
"Yes. I did. But I haven't given up. I won't."
He turned to face her now, his expression a mixture of rage and betrayal. "You stood beside them. You let them call me a spy. And now I wait three days to be thrown out like garbage."
"Don't you think I wanted to scream at them all?" she countered, stepping closer. "Don't you think I want to tear down the walls and rewrite every law that let them do this to you?"
"Then do it," he said, voice sharp. "But don't come here acting like it's all okay. Like your good intentions made anything better."
They stood in tense silence. Then she stepped back.
"When the time comes, when they banish you, look to the east. You'll see the twin mountains just beyond the border. Go there. I'll explain later. Just... go there."
He furrowed his brow. "What's there?"
But she was already walking toward the door.
In the torchlit quiet of the hallways, she moved like a shadow. But halfway to the old corridors near the outer courtyard, a voice cut through the silence.
"I knew you would try."
Maevis emerged from behind a column, arms crossed. She looked equal parts resigned and concerned.
"I have to do this," Elyra said.
"No. You want to. And your wants could cost you everything."
"Then let them. I'm done sitting still while the world burns around me."
Maevis stepped forward. "If you go through with this—if you follow these foolish ideals of yours—I won't be there to help. I won't be able to."
Elyra paused.
Then she turned her tear-streaked face toward Maevis.
"Do you know how it feels to never make your own decisions? To feel alone, like no one trusts your mind? To be told every day what you are, what you must become? To you, maybe he's a stain. A mistake. But to me... he's a wish come true."
Maevis's eyes widened.
"A wish...?"
But Elyra was gone.
The castle loomed in silence. The night was calm, the sky a velvet tapestry stretched over the gilded towers of Eiravell.
In her chamber, Elyra stood by the open window. The rope she had tied to her bed trailed outside like a lifeline.
She stared out at the vast horizon. The moonlight kissed her cheeks.
With a whisper and a final glance back, she whispered:
"Let the crown find another jewel. I was meant to shine where no one else dared look."
And with that, she climbed over the ledge—her rebellion truly begun.