The morning was a silent one. I contemplated between going out and confronting the guards and staying put in my place, letting the vibrations wave off.
In the midst of this, I made breakfast, added touches to the house, took a shower and put on some makeup to distract myself.
Xavier woke up a bit later, with our baby girl in his arms. She was adorable just like him with messy hair and sleep laded faces.
I took her from him, after giving him his coffee. Black. Just like yesterday.
What was wrong with me?
Aurora got ready for her day, brushing and washing her up, changing her clothes and diaper. I gave her breakfast which she ate with her dad, offering
I found her again.In the garden.Except now, she wasn’t seated on the bench like before. She was lying on the cold stone floor, her head tilted back against the fountain’s curved wall, eyes closed, arms splayed at her sides. A gust of wind stirred the loose strands of her hair, casting them across her face like silver ribbons.For a breathless second, I thought she was unconscious.Then her chest rose—shallow, but steady.Relief settled into my spine like the first hint of warmth after a winter storm. I didn’t dare move closer, afraid I might shatter whatever delicate thread held her here. So I waited, standing just a few paces away, silent as the shadows stretched over the cobblestones.“You are here. Again.” Her voice came, soft but certain.I looked down to find her watching me now, one arm bent to cradle her head.“I couldn’t stay away,” I admitted.A faint smile touched her lips — bitter and hollow, but a smile nonetheless.“You should.” She shifted upright slowly, crossing her l
The message arrived just past sundown.A folded scroll, sealed in wax with the royal crest, was handed to me by a trembling servant. His eyes didn’t meet mine as he passed it over, and he scurried away the moment I took it.I didn’t need to open it.I already knew what it meant.Lucien was summoning her again.My throat felt tight as I read the words, each syllable cruel in its simplicity:"The Queen is to attend His Majesty in his private chamber tonight. Immediately after dusk."No reason. No request. No care.Just a command.The same way you might summon a dog.I stood outside her door for several moments, scroll clenched in my hand, unable to bring myself to knock. The very idea of delivering this message — of forcing her into that monster’s lair again — made something in me twist and burn.When I finally rapped my knuckles against the wood, the sound felt louder than thunder.It took her a moment to answer. I imagined she knew. Somehow, I felt she always did.The door creaked open
The next morning came slow, dragging the gray sun behind it like a burden too heavy to rise. The palace halls were still quiet — that eerie kind of silence that settled only after long nights of pain. But for the first time in what felt like eternity, I woke up with something more than dread clinging to my chest.Hope. Fragile, stupid, but real.I reported early to my post, before the guards changed shift. My feet carried me faster than usual through the south wing, past the arching stained-glass windows, until I reached her chamber door. My usual position. My cursed privilege.The fruit bowl I’d left yesterday — just a quiet offering — was gone. In its place sat an empty tray, polished and clean, with nothing but a folded cloth laid gently over it.It wasn
The garden had always been a place of silence, but tonight it felt sacred.The sun had dipped below the palace spires, casting the hedges and creeping ivy in long, slanted shadows. A soft breeze whispered through the leaves, stirring the scent of rain-soaked earth and fading jasmine. It was quiet — not the empty kind of quiet that gnawed at the bones, but something gentler. Waiting. Breathing.And there she was.She sat beneath the same ancient oak as before, back straight, hands resting loosely in her lap. She wore a pale green gown that blended almost seamlessly with the grass around her. For a moment, she looked like she belonged to the earth itself — carved from sorrow, but rooted deep in resilience.I hesitated a few feet away, clearing my throat softly
A week had passed, but there was no sign of her.All I knew was that she was inside. Alone. Miserable.For eight long days and nights, I had stood my post outside her chamber, steadfast and silent, watching over a ghost more than a Queen. No one came in or went out. No footsteps disturbed the cold corridors but mine. The palace felt emptier than ever, as if the very walls were holding their breath in mourning.Every shift, I waited patiently, hoping for the smallest glimpse of her — a shadow passing by, the faintest sound of her voice, a sign that she was still fighting against the darkness that threatened to consume her. But there was nothing. It was as if she had simply faded away from the world.The silence was suffocating.
The King had returned just before nightfall—cloaked in the scent of blood, ash, and victory he wore like a twisted crown. His boots were still caked with mud from the southern ridge, the battlefields where men died so he could claim his throne. He moved through the castle halls like a force of nature, relentless and unforgiving. His presence swallowed the light and hope from the corridors.He didn’t glance at me when he passed. Not a nod. Not a word. Not even a flicker of recognition. This was expected. I was but a soldier, a guard tasked to watch and listen. Not interfere.But what came next was not expected.I took my post outside the Queen’s chamber as the lamps in the corridor flickered to life, the warm flames throwing long shadows on the cold stone walls. The castle was thick with unease&mdas