Zara’s POVThe palace feels different now.Not because its halls have changed, the marble floors still gleam, the guards still stand stiff as statues, the concubines still giggle in corners but because I have. For the first time since arriving here, I don’t slink in the shadows. I walk with purpose, even if my legs tremble beneath my gown.And they notice.The maids bow a little lower. The warriors’ eyes linger a little longer. Even the women who used to sneer at me now whisper behind their hands, uncertain.Whispers are dangerous, but they are also powerful.I cling to that thought as I cross the gardens, the morning sun warming my skin. For days, Andre has barely spoken to me, though his presence haunts every room I enter. His gaze follows me, sharp, silent, unyielding. He hasn’t touched me, hasn’t scolded me, hasn’t humiliated me. And that absence terrifies me more than any cruelty ever did.Because Andre’s silence is never empty. It’s a storm gathering on the horizon.I brush my
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