I should have seen this coming.
The Queen summons me to her private sitting room, her face alight with triumph. Seated beside her, dressed in a royal blue gown that radiates wealth and favour, is none other than Liliana. She has truly settled into her role as the palace's golden girl. I remain standing, arms crossed, watching them like a spectator at a bad play.
"Celeste," the Queen begins, her tone laced with authority, "it's time to make things clear. Liliana is now officially recognized as the prince's consort."
I arch a brow, unfazed. "And?"
The Queen's eyes narrow. "I expect you to treat her with the respect she deserves. She will have unrestricted access to Cassian's private chambers from now on. I trust there will be no issues."
I blink. Then, I laugh. A soft chuckle at first, but it builds into something bold and unrestrained. The Queen stiffens, and Liliana shifts uncomfortably, her fake composure slipping for just a moment.
"Oh, forgive me, Your Majesty," I say, my voice dripping with amusement. "I wasn't expecting something this... hilarious."
The Queen's lips press into a thin line. "This is not a joke, Celeste."
"Oh, but it is," I counter. "Cassian is a grown man. Who he lets into his chambers, besides the endless string of hawkers he's been entertaining since I stepped foot in this palace, is entirely up to him."
Liliana bristles. "Are you calling me a hawker?"
I give her a slow, assessing look. "Did I mention your name?"
The Queen rises to her feet, her irritation barely concealed. "You will not disrespect…"
I hold up a hand. "Save it, Your Majesty. You've made your point. Do as you please."
With that, I turn on my heels and walk out, feeling their stares burn into my back.
Let them scheme. Let them play their little power games. I have no interest in fighting for a man who has never been mine to begin with.
***
The sight stings more than I expect it to.
Liliana, perched behind the wheel of a brand-new, sleek luxury car, her spoiled child strapped in the front seat. The vehicle gleams under the palace lights, a clear symbol of her growing status. As the car rolls past me, she slows just enough to meet my eyes. A smirk tugs at her lips… smug, condescending, victorious.
I clench my fists, my nails biting into my palms.
She has a car. Her own car.
And here I am, walking into the palace on foot.
I don't know why this particular moment is what finally breaks something inside me, but it does. I march straight to my chambers, ignoring the guards, ignoring the grand halls, ignoring everything.
Once inside, I slam the door shut and lock it. The silence presses in, but it does nothing to quell the storm raging in my chest.
The Queen's maltreatment; I've tried to ignore it. The humiliation, the neglect, the quiet yet deliberate ways she reminds me that I am nothing here. But this? This cuts deeper than I expected.
Esther comes in a while later with my dinner, but I shake my head. "I'm not hungry."
She frowns, placing the tray down. "My Princess, what happened?"
"Nothing," I lie, staring at the wall. "I just don't feel well."
Esther isn't fooled, but she knows better than to push. She sighs and quietly exits, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
Why does the Queen hate me so much?
She lured me into this palace. She manipulated me, tricked me into this marriage, only to turn around and despise me. What was her endgame? Did she always intend for me to be a pawn?
And Cassian? He's no better. He never wanted this marriage, I know that. But what is it about him that he can't speak for himself? Why does he let himself be dragged around like a puppet when he is supposed to be the king-to-be?
I lie down, feeling hollow and exhausted. Sleep doesn't come easily, but when it does, it's not restful.
It's dark.
In my dream, I'm standing in the palace halls, but they look different; endless, stretching into shadows. I hear whispers, voices echoing through the corridors, calling my name. I turn, searching for the source, but the halls keep twisting, changing, trapping me.
Then, suddenly, a hand grabs my wrist.
I jolt awake, my heart pounding, my skin clammy with sweat. My room is silent, but the feeling lingers. A deep, unsettling dread sits heavy in my chest.
Something isn't right.
And for the first time since coming here, I realize; I need to get out of this palace.
***
Morning light streams through my window as I stand before my wardrobe, eyeing my options. Today, I choose a smart, sleek dress, one that flatters my figure and, more importantly, lifts my mood. I smooth the fabric over my hips, adjusting the neckline.
Perfect.
I grab my bag, slipping my essentials inside. Today is just another workday, but to me, it's more than that. It's proof that I am building something for myself, without the Queen's scraps or Cassian's reluctant charity.
I don't need their money.
I don't need their cars.
And when I finally leave this place, I will walk out without owing anyone anything.
The thought strengthens me.
I step out of my room, head high, and make my way through the palace halls. The guards glance at me, some with indifference, others with curiosity, but I pay them no mind.
At the palace gates, I don't hesitate.
I walk through them proudly.
I throw myself into my work, burying every ounce of energy into being the best at what I do. The less I focus on palace affairs, the better.
Liliana, on the other hand, parades herself like a queen. Her gowns are extravagant, her jewelry dazzling. The maids scurry to attend to her as if she outranks the Queen herself. I pretend not to notice. Let her enjoy her circus, I have bigger things to focus on.
At the office, things take a turn for the better. A high-profile client seeks my legal expertise to acquire a prime property near the palace. I handle the transaction smoothly, and when the deal is sealed, he offers me a commission.
"It's just a small token for your excellent work," he says with a smile.
To him, it's a small token. To me, it's a lifeline.
With my earnings, I decide to visit home this weekend. I stock up on groceries, supplements, and most importantly, gifts for my little boy.
As soon as I step through the door, Ray runs into my arms.
"Mommy!" His tiny hands wrap around my waist, and for the first time in weeks, the tension in my chest eases.
"My baby," I murmur, hugging him tighter, inhaling the comforting scent of home.
My mother beams, wrapping me in a warm embrace. "You look thinner, my child. Have you been eating well?"
"I'm fine, Mama," I assure her.
My father, sitting on the porch, looks stronger than ever. He eyes the bags I brought, a proud smile tugging at his lips.
"You didn't have to bring all this, Celeste," he says, though I see the gratitude in his eyes.
"Of course, I did," I say, setting the groceries down. "You took care of me all my life. Now, it's my turn."
I don't tell them about the palace. About the Queen's cruelty. About Cassian's silence but about my job.
They don't need to know everything.
Tonight, I let myself enjoy the warmth of home.
But as I settle into the comfort of my childhood bed, my phone vibrates on the nightstand.
One new message.
Unknown Number: You can't run from this, Celeste.
My breath catches.
So much for a peaceful night.