Chapter 189: Silent Care (I)

Elara:

I knew I should return to the ballroom.

Every sensible thought in my head reminded me that I had already been absent for far too long, and unlike an ordinary guest who could slip away without anyone paying much attention, I was the Crown Princess of Starfall. The welcoming party had been organized specifically for me, which meant my disappearance would eventually become a topic of conversation, if it hadn’t already.

I was supposed to be inside that glittering hall, smiling at influential families, exchanging polite pleasantries, and making certain that every person who approached me left with a favorable impression. Instead, I stood alone in a dim corridor, staring at nothing in particular while trying to gather the scattered pieces of myself.

Everything hurt. My feet throbbed from hours spent dancing in heels, my shoulders ached from maintaining perfect posture, and my heart felt as though someone had reached inside my chest and twisted it until nothing remained but pain.

The thought of returning to that ballroom, pretending that nothing had happened, and dancing as though Kairo hadn’t just torn open every wound he had spent weeks creating made my head hurt almost as much as my feet.

I could already imagine the smiles, the curious questions, and the carefully disguised attempts to discover something about me that might prove useful to someone’s family.

For once night, I wanted to be something other than the Crown Princess. I wanted to be a person who could sit down when she was tired, cry when she was hurt, and leave a room without having to consider what an entire kingdom might think about it. But apparently, that was too much to ask.

I was still debating whether I could justify another few minutes of hiding when a familiar presence drew my attention toward the entrance of what appeared to be a private lounge.

Esmeray Ashbourne had just walked inside, and the moment our eyes met, I noticed something that made me narrow mine slightly. He didn’t look surprised to find me there. Not even a little. In fact, he looked almost as though he had expected me to be exactly where I was.

A suspicion immediately formed in my mind, but before I could decide whether to ignore him and leave through another door, Esme crossed the room toward me. He stopped directly in front of me, his green eyes briefly sweeping over my face before dropping toward my feet.

"Sit down," he instructed calmly, gesturing toward one of the couches.

I blinked at him, too stunned by his sudden appearance and authoritative tone to react quickly enough. Apparently, he interpreted my silence as an inability to follow simple instructions because he reached for my arm, guided me toward the couch, and made me sit before I could properly protest.

"Esme, what are you-"

The question died on my tongue when he lowered himself in front of me, gently lifted one of my feet, and rested it across his knee. For a few seconds, I could only stare at him in complete bewilderment as he carefully examined the reddened, bruised skin at the back of my heel where the shoes had been rubbing against it.

"Don’t move," he murmured, his voice losing its earlier firmness as he reached for the buckle of my heels.

I watched in stunned silence as he removed one heel and then the other, setting them neatly beside the couch before returning his attention to my feet. His fingers moved with surprising gentleness as he massaged the tense muscles, carefully avoiding the raw, slightly bleeding patches where the shoes had damaged my skin.

The first time his thumb pressed into the sole of my foot, I nearly sighed aloud. I had spent hours standing, walking, and dancing in shoes that had looked beautiful but felt increasingly like instruments of torture, and I hadn’t realized just how badly I needed relief until he began easing the tension from my aching feet.

I should probably have questioned why Esme Ashbourne, the same man whose kindness I had found as being calculated, was kneeling in front of me and treating my bruises as though they were the most important thing in the world.

I should have asked why he was here, whether he had followed me, or how he had known I needed help. Instead, I sat there with my hands resting in my lap, watching him work in silence, caught between confusion, hurt, and the uncomfortable realization that his concern felt genuine.

I didn’t know what to do with that feeling anymore because trusting people had become far more complicated than I had ever imagined.

A few minutes later, the lounge door opened again, and Jasper walked in carrying a pair of comfortable slippers and a small tube of ointment.

I turned toward him, expecting at least a brief explanation, but he simply approached Esme and handed him both items with the ease of someone completing an arrangement they had already discussed.

My eyes moved between them. "Wait. Did you two plan this?" I asked, but neither seemed particularly interested in answering.

Jasper merely gave me a small, reassuring look before stepping aside, while Esme opened the ointment and applied a cool layer over the bruised skin.

The relief was almost immediate. A faint shimmer of magic spread beneath his fingertips, and I felt the familiar warmth of my body’s accelerated healing responding to the treatment. The redness began to fade, the broken skin closed, and the throbbing eased until my feet no longer felt as though they had been personally victimized by the royal footwear industry.

Esme waited until the ointment had settled before carefully slipping the slippers onto my feet, adjusting them so that nothing rubbed against the tender spots.

Throughout the entire process, neither he nor Jasper asked what had happened in the corridor, why I had disappeared, or why I looked as though I was one unfortunate question away from losing the last of my patience.

Their silence should have made me uncomfortable, but instead, I found myself grateful for it.

When Esme finally finished, he straightened and looked at me, his expression quieter than before. And then he asked, "Do you want to leave?"

I stared at him, genuinely surprised by the question. My gaze shifted toward Jasper, who was standing beside the couch with his hands loosely clasped behind him, apparently waiting for my answer as well.

Did I want to leave? More than anything.

I wanted to take off the gown, wash the makeup from my face, curl up somewhere familiar, and forget that this evening had ever happened. But wanting something and being able to do it were two entirely different matters when one happened to be the Crown Princess.

I shook my head reluctantly. "I should go back. The party was organized for me, and I have already been missing for ages. If I disappear now, people will start asking questions."