She and her brother were halted by a cluster of palace maids who swiftly whisked her away from his side. Their hands were gentle but firm as they guided her down a separate corridor. She did not know where they were taking her, yet she felt a flicker of relief at being removed from her brother and the suffocating presence of her family.
They led her through tall, ornately carved doors and into a beautifully furnished chamber, the queen’s leisure room. The air inside was fragrant with incense and perfu. Sunlight filtered through gauzy curtains, casting a warm glow over plush carpets and gilded furnishings. Elka had never stepped foot inside this room during any of her previous visits to the palace.
Seated gracefully in one of the cushioned chairs was the queen herself. She had clearly been waiting.
Queen Nheera turned at the sound of their entrance, and when her gaze fell upon Elka, her entire face lit up with a radiant smile.
"Co," she said warmly. "Let get a better look at you." She rose slowly from her seat and beckoned Elka forward.
The maids took this as their cue to leave, slipping out silently and closing the heavy doors behind them.
She was now sealed inside with the queen. The woman who had helped seal her fate alongside her father.
No one had ever asked how Elka felt about this alliance. No one had cared to consider whether she wished to be bound to a prince she barely knew. They simply expected obedience, expected her to smile, to bow, to endure. Condemned to suffer sothing that felt worse than a loveless marriage: a life stripped of choice.
She bowed as deeply as her restrictive gown would allow before stepping forward, keeping her expression carefully neutral while suppressing the pained wince threatening to break through her composure. Her pulse raced beneath her skin, each beat loud in her ears.
She tried not to flinch as the queen’s discerning gaze traveled from head to toe, assessing every detail, the gown, the hair, the posture.
Then Nheera’s smile softened, turning gentle and admiring. She stepped closer and placed her hands upon Elka’s shoulders before pulling her into a surprisingly tender embrace.
Elka sucked in a sharp breath as pain shot sharply through her back at the movent. It was sudden and vicious, stealing the air from her lungs. She squeezed her eyes shut and began to count silently in her head, focusing on each number until the flare dulled to a more bearable throb. The fabric of her gown brushed against the tender skin beneath, and even that slight friction felt like fire. Nheera, however, did not seem to notice the subtle tension that had overtaken her.
They stepped away from the embrace, though Nheera continued to regard her with a warm, approving smile.
"You are the most beautiful bride I have ever seen," Nheera said as she took in the red dress in its entirety. Her gaze traveled from the intricate embroidery at the bodice down to the graceful fall of the skirts. "Absolutely gorgeous. You shine so brightly that the guests will have no choice but to stare. They will not be able to get enough of you. You will be the talk of the kingdom for years to co."
All those things the queen described might have been enticing to another woman, but to Elka, they sounded like a carefully wrapped form of torture. She had only ever been popular among the nobles in the capital because her mother had forced her to be, flaunting and parading her at every ball, every banquet, every political gathering they attended. She had been sculpted into a darling of the aristocracy, praised as the embodint of beauty and refined elegance.
It had always been a performance. She hated every second of it. She hated smiling when her body ached, hated standing for hours in heavy gowns while pain gnawed relentlessly at her spine. Yet, just as she had done countless tis before, she slipped seamlessly back into her carefully rehearsed role. Her lips curved into a charming, practiced smile that did not falter.
"Thank you, Your Majesty. You are far too kind," Elka replied smoothly. "But I strongly disagree. If the guests will be looking at anyone, it will be you. Your Majesty is radiant as always. Many may try, but none will ever match your beauty."
Approval shone@ in the queen’s eyes at the complint.
Every notable figure in the kingdom had been invited to the wedding. Lords from distant provinces, wealthy rchants, foreign envoys, and generals, everyone except Ragnar and his wife. Hairan had been firmly against Ragnar’s attendance. It had been one of the non-negotiable terms he laid out before agreeing to proceed with the marriage, and the queen had readily accepted the demand.
"Sit with ," Nheera said gently, guiding her toward a cushioned settee positioned near the tall windows.
Elka followed without hesitation. Refusal had never truly been an option for her, no matter how much she might have wished it. She lowered herself carefully onto the seat, keeping her movents controlled so as not to aggravate the wounds beneath her gown.
Instead of sitting beside her imdiately, Nheera turned toward a nearby table and retrieved a small box. It was rectangular and painted a soft, delicate pink. Intricate floral patterns adorned the lid and sides. A gold fra bordered its edges, etched with curved, decorative designs.
Elka could only stare as the queen held it out to her. With slightly trembling hands, she accepted it.
"Your Majesty, I—" she began, but the queen cut her off gently, her voice firm yet affectionate.
"This was given to on my wedding day by the king’s mother," Nheera said, her gaze turning distant as she recalled the mory. "She called into a room much like this one and offered it to with her own hands. I could hardly contain the emotions I felt in that mont." A fond smile touched her lips as she looked down at the box. "I cherished it deeply, even more so after she passed only weeks after Hairan was born. I have kept it safe all these years. And now, I wish to do the sa and pass it on to you."
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