The air in the garden was thick with the scent of blooming jasmine, the soft rustling of leaves a gentle reminder that nature here was far more alive than it had any right to be. The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows that danced across the cobblestone pathways. I stood at the edge of a tranquil pond, its water shimmering as it caught the last rays of daylight, my fingers lightly brushing the cool stone surrounding it.

Mathew was beside me, his usual calm demeanor a stark contrast to the bubbling tension in my chest. His presence, as always, steadied me, but I couldn't ignore the weight of what we were about to face. The elven Prince Ylyndar would be here soon—hopefully with news, the first since our arrival, and we had been warned, in no uncertain terms, that this meeting would not be easy. The elven King and Queen had refused to meet us themselves, choosing instead to send their son again, and though I knew the politics at play, it still stung.

"I think this is the part where I should be nervous," Mathew said, his voice low and playful, though there was a flicker of concern in his amber eyes. He reached over and briefly squeezed my hand. "Don't you think?"

I chuckled, trying to ease the tension. "It's not us they don't want to meet—it's you," I said, teasing him, but the truth was, I wasn't entirely sure that was the case. The elves had a long-standing disdain for both humans and lycans, and the fact that we were married... well, that only complicated things.

Mathew raised an eyebrow at my comment, though he didn't press the matter. Instead, he scanned the garden with a more calculating gaze. "So, what's the play here, Your Majesty?" He didn't say it mockingly, but the title felt heavier than ever at that moment.

I turned to face him, squeezing his hand back. "We need to make them understand," I began, my voice steady, despite the chaos in my mind, "that we're not here to impose. We have allies—others who are depending on us. The elves can't afford to ignore us, and I'm hoping Ylyndar sees that."

Mathew nodded, his expression softening as he leaned in to kiss my cheek. His touch was a grounding force, as it always was. "I'll follow your lead, as always."

Before I could respond, the sound of footsteps on the gravel path drew my attention. A figure emerged from between the columns of a nearby archway, his tall, lithe frame moving with the fluid grace only an elf could possess. Prince Ylyndar. His sharp, angular features were framed by hair so pale it was almost silver, and his eyes—bright green like the forest at its peak—locked onto mine with a wary intensity.

"Your Majesty," he said, his voice a melody that still carried a weight of formality, "I'm sorry for the long wait."

I gave a nod, though the words felt hollow in my throat. "Excuse my bluntness, but what news do you have?"

Ylyndar's lips barely twitched in what could have been a smile, but there was no warmth in it. "My parents do not wish to engage in this war. It is not the circumstances I mind," he said, taking a step closer, his gaze flicking briefly to Mathew before settling back on me. "It is the company." His words, though polite, carried an unmistakable edge.

I kept my expression neutral, even as Mathew's jaw tightened beside me. "I understand," I replied, lifting my chin slightly. "But both our realms have much to lose."

Ylyndar sighed, "I know." His posture changed to a somewhat more relaxed one. "They do not believe humans are a threat to them."

As we walked deeper into the garden, past carefully cultivated plants and elegant sculptures, the weight of the conversation hung in the air. The silence between us wasn't uncomfortable, but it was deliberate. Ylyndar's wariness of us was palpable, and in turn, I kept my distance, cautious not to overstep.

"You understand, of course," Ylyndar said, his voice cutting through the quiet as he turned his gaze toward the horizon, "letting you stay here is not one of goodwill. My parents do not wish to acknowledge your presence here, King Adrian. They believe your alliances are temporary, that your kingdom will crumble and your throne will be taken."

I felt my spine stiffen at the insinuation. "My kingdom has endured pain before, Prince Ylyndar," I replied, keeping my voice level. "And if your parents refuse to see reason, then perhaps you might."

Ylyndar didn't respond immediately. Instead, he stopped in front of a flowering bush, his fingers brushing gently against the petals. "It is not just my parents I answer to," he said after a beat, his eyes still focused on the blooms. "But the forest itself."

I could sense the hidden layers of his words, the unspoken weight of his role within the elven court. "What would you have us do then? Give up on the people we have sworn to protect?"

The prince turned to face me fully now, his expression unreadable, as if weighing my every word. "Of course not," he said, and for the first time, his voice softened slightly, though there was still a wall between us. "But make no mistake, King Adrian. There is no easy path forward."

I nodded, meeting his gaze without flinching. "I'm willing to walk it, if you are." And with that, the true negotiations began.

The meeting with Ylyndar ended as quietly as it had begun. The prince's words hung in the air like a thick fog, and despite the gentle politeness of his rejection, the sting was undeniable. I could feel it in the pit of my stomach as Mathew and I turned away from the garden and started walking toward our temporary home.

The forest around us was unlike anything I'd ever seen. The trees—tall, shimmering, almost ethereal—seemed to breathe, their branches moving as though they had a life of their own. Flowers with soft, glowing petals dotted the path, and strange, melodic sounds filled the air, as if the very land were alive. Everything felt so... unreal. So beautiful, but i felt so out of place. This wasn't home. It didn't belong to us.

I kept my eyes fixed on the path ahead, trying to push away the discomfort creeping up my spine. The air here was thick with the unfamiliar, like a strange perfume that made me feel lightheaded. The colors were more vivid than I'd ever seen, the sounds more distinct. It was a wonder, but all I could think about was how much I wanted to leave. I couldn't shake the feeling that I was intruding on something that didn't want me here.

Mathew was walking beside me, his face a mask of concentration. He didn't look at the strange flora or the beauty of the place, his eyes set firmly ahead. He didn't say anything, but I knew what he was thinking. We had come here hoping to get the elves' support for our war, and now... now we were getting nothing. Nothing but polite rejection, nothing but the cold indifference of a people who had their own problems. The elves had their eyes on their own world. The war we were fighting, the one that mattered to us, didn't even register on their radar.

I could feel the frustration building inside me, a storm of emotions I was trying to keep contained. We had trusted Ylyndar, had believed his promises that there would be a chance, that we might convince them to help. But it was all a lie. Or maybe it wasn't a lie, just... something we misunderstood. Either way, we were left empty-handed.

"We came all this way for nothing," I muttered under my breath, my voice bitter and raw. The words felt hollow, but they had to be said.

Mathew didn't respond at first. I could tell he was still processing everything, still sorting through the disappointment, the sense of betrayal. When he finally spoke, his voice was heavy, more resigned than I had expected. "Guess we weren't meant to win this war."

His words hit harder than I wanted them to. I had hoped he'd be more optimistic, more defiant. But there it was, the stark reality we were both avoiding. The war wasn't going to be won by us, not with the elves' help. We were alone in this.

I could feel the weight of the silence between us. The trees loomed overhead, their branches whispering in the wind. But it felt like they were mocking us, reminding us that we were outsiders here. The beauty of the place was almost unbearable. It made the ache of defeat even sharper, the knowledge that our cause wasn't even worth the elves' time. We'd been fools to think we could count on them.

Our steps slowed as we neared our temporary home. I could already feel the weight of the coming days pressing down on me. There would be no easy answers here. No allies. No hope from the elves.

We were alone.

And as much as I tried to push the thought away, I knew we had to face it: the fight was ours now, and it was going to be harder than we ever imagined.