Elara

The days following her encounter with Sir Aldric passed in a haze of nervous anticipation for Elara. She went about her duties as usual, cleaning and scrubbing, serving meals to the nobility, but her mind was elsewhere—constantly returning to the garden and the knight who had found her there.

She hadn’t seen him since that evening, but she could feel his presence in the palace, a subtle awareness that made her heart race every time she passed by a guard or heard the clank of armor in the corridors. She kept her head down, hoping to avoid him, yet some part of her longed for another meeting, another moment where their worlds might collide.

It was a dangerous longing, she knew. A maid like her had no business entertaining thoughts of a knight, let alone one as esteemed as Sir Aldric. The mere idea was absurd, a fantasy fit for the ballads she sometimes heard the minstrels sing in the great hall. And yet, she couldn’t shake the memory of how he had looked at her, as if he had seen something in her that even she didn’t fully understand.

One afternoon, as she was tidying up one of the smaller parlors, Elara overheard two noblewomen gossiping in hushed tones. They spoke of Sir Aldric, of his valor in battle and his unwavering loyalty to the crown. But what caught Elara’s attention was their mention of his betrothal to Lady Isolde, a match arranged by the king himself.

“Elara!” The sharp voice of Marta, her fellow maid, snapped her out of her reverie. Marta was older, with a stern face that softened only for those she cared about. She stood in the doorway, hands on her hips, looking at Elara with a mix of concern and frustration. “You’re daydreaming again. The linens won’t fold themselves, you know.”

“I’m sorry,” Elara mumbled, quickly resuming her task, though her thoughts were still with the knight and the noblewoman who was to be his wife. Lady Isolde was known for her beauty and intelligence, a perfect match for a man of Aldric’s status. The thought filled Elara with a strange, hollow feeling that she couldn’t quite name.

Later that evening, after her duties were done, Elara found herself drawn once more to the garden. The sun was setting, casting a warm golden light over the palace walls. She slipped through the hidden path, her heart pounding with a mix of fear and hope. She knew she shouldn’t be here, that she should stay away from this place that had become dangerous in its allure. But something compelled her to return, as if the garden itself was calling her back.

As she stepped into the secluded space, she breathed a sigh of relief at finding it empty. The tension in her shoulders eased, and she allowed herself to relax, the familiar sense of peace washing over her. She walked slowly to the bench beneath the oak tree, her fingers trailing along the ivy-covered walls as she went.

Elara sat down, letting the quiet of the garden surround her. She closed her eyes, listening to the gentle rustle of leaves in the breeze, the distant chirping of birds. Here, she could forget the world outside, forget her place in it, if only for a little while.

But her solitude was short-lived.

She hadn’t been sitting for long when she heard the soft sound of footsteps on the gravel path. Her heart leaped into her throat, and she turned her head, already knowing who she would see.

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Sir Aldric stood at the entrance to the garden, his gaze fixed on her with that same intensity she had felt on the night they first met. He looked different in the fading light, less like the formidable knight she had always known and more like a man uncertain of his next move. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the air thick with unspoken words and possibilities.

“Elara,” he said finally, his voice low and steady. “I didn’t expect to find you here again.”

She rose to her feet, her hands clasped in front of her to still their trembling. “Nor did I expect to see you, my lord.”

He took a step closer, his eyes never leaving hers. “You don’t need to call me that. Not here.”

There was something in his tone that made her pulse quicken, a softness she hadn’t heard before. “What should I call you, then?”

“Aldric,” he replied, as if offering her a gift. “Just Aldric.”

She hesitated, the familiarity of his name feeling strange on her tongue. “Aldric.”

He nodded, seeming satisfied. “I came to see if you were here. I… couldn’t stop thinking about the music you played that night.”

Elara felt a blush rise to her cheeks. “It was just a simple tune, nothing more.”

“It was more than that,” he insisted, taking another step forward. “It was beautiful. You’re… you’re very talented.”

She didn’t know how to respond to that. No one had ever complimented her music before; it was something she had always kept hidden, a private part of herself that she rarely shared. But now, here he was, a knight of the realm, telling her that her music had moved him in some way.

“I’ve never heard anything like it,” he continued, his voice softening. “It made me feel… I don’t know how to describe it. But I couldn’t forget it. I couldn’t forget you.”

Her breath caught at his words. The garden felt smaller now, the air between them charged with a tension she didn’t know how to navigate. “I’m just a maid, Aldric. You shouldn’t… I shouldn’t…”

“I know,” he said, his voice heavy with something that might have been regret. “I know this is dangerous, and I know we come from different worlds. But I can’t pretend that nothing has changed. Meeting you—hearing you play—it’s stirred something in me that I can’t ignore.”

Elara looked down at the ground, her mind racing. She wanted to tell him to leave, to walk away before they both did something they would regret. But she couldn’t find the words. Instead, she found herself speaking the truth she had been holding back.

“I’ve thought about you too,” she admitted, her voice barely more than a whisper. “But I know it can’t be. You’re a knight, and I’m… I’m no one.”

“You’re not no one,” he said firmly, closing the distance between them. “You’re Elara. And that’s enough.”

She looked up at him, startled by the conviction in his voice. For a moment, they stood there, the world beyond the garden falling away until there was nothing but the two of them, standing on the edge of something new and unknown.

Before she could say anything else, Aldric reached out and took her hand, his grip gentle yet strong. The touch sent a jolt through her, and she felt her heart race as he held her hand in his. His eyes searched hers, as if seeking permission, as if asking if she felt the same way.

“Elara,” he whispered, “I don’t know where this will lead, but I want to find out. Will you meet me here again?”

She knew she should say no, that she should turn and run before things went any further. But looking into his eyes, seeing the sincerity and warmth there, she found herself nodding.

“Yes,” she said softly. “I’ll meet you here.”

His smile was small, almost relieved, as if he had been holding his breath waiting for her answer. He gently squeezed her hand before releasing it, stepping back to give her space.

“Until then,” he said, his voice filled with a quiet promise.

Elara watched as he turned and walked away, disappearing down the path and leaving her alone in the garden once more. She stood there for a long time, her heart still racing, her mind a whirl of emotions. She knew this was only the beginning, that the path ahead would be fraught with danger and uncertainty. But she also knew that she couldn’t turn back now.

For better or worse, she had made her choice.