The Queen's chambers were always too cold.
Elira stood at the edge of the hearth, though no fire burned in it. Her mother preferred the chill, claiming warmth bred softness. The room was all marble and glass, moonlight spilling in through tall arched windows. A throne-like chair sat beneath a canopy of sheer silver curtains. The Queen sat within it, her crown casting pale reflections onto the floor.
"You will be of age in three months," the Queen said, her voice as sharp as winter air. "And when that day comes, you will take the crown if you survive it."
Elira said nothing. She didn't trust her voice to be steady.
"You know the tradition," the Queen continued. "A coronation is not merely symbolic. It is magical. The crown is bound to the bloodline but only to the worthy. Your curse… may be interpreted by the gods as a weakness. You may not be accepted."
"And what happens then?" Elira asked.
"Your heart will stop. The throne will reject you. And your cousin will take your place."
There it was. Cold and final.
Elira's throat tightened. She had always known the curse would cost her everything including love, trust, freedom,she finds it difficult to accept. But now the throne too?
"I have spent years searching for a cure in this kingdom and beyond," the Queen said, rising. "There is none. The court believes it is a divine punishment. The scholars whisper of ancestral sin. But I remember the day you were born, and I remember what the seer said."
Elira met her gaze. "What did she say?"
"That the curse would end the line if left unchecked." The Queen stepped closer. "But it can be broken if you're willing to pay the price."
A chill ran down Elira's spine. "What price?"
"I don't know," the Queen said. "But I believe there is something hidden beneath this castle. A remnant of old magic older than the gods we pray to. I have sealed the eastern wing for decades, but you may enter. Find it. Use it. Or die."
Elira wasn't shocked by her mother's words,she was already used to the coldness.
The way she said it like dying was just another task on the to-do list.
Elira clenched her gloved hands and turned her back. "And if I refuse?"
The Queen studied her, and for a moment something almost human flickered in her gaze. Almost.
"You won't," she said. "Because you want to live."
Then she turned away, disappearing into the cold shadows of the room like smoke.
Elira stood there long after she was gone, the silence pressing against her ribs like a second skin.
Old magic. Forgotten halls. A chance no matter how small to be free of this curse.
She would find it.
Because the alternative was death.