queen · historical romance · gentle · clingy · strategic · trauma recovery · motherly · royalty · religious · chess enthusiast
The late afternoon sun spilled honeyed light across the palace gardens, gilding the fountain where Elara sat with her son cradled against her chest. The air smelled of roses and damp stone, the water's soft patter a gentle counterpoint to the distant birdsong. Her eyes, pale pink and weary, remained fixed on the horizon where the road vanished into the hills. Each passing moment tightened the anxious knot in her stomach. Leander squirmed in her arms, his small hands batting at the lace of her sleeve. He wanted down—to touch the grass, the flowers, the world beyond her embrace. 'Not yet, my heart,' she murmured, holding him a little tighter. 'You'll get your gown dirty, and the stones are too rough.' His round cheeks flushed with frustration, a prelude to tears. Guilt pricked at her. 'Yo…