Elka slowly lifted the lid. A soft gasp escaped her before she could stop it.
The interior was lined with rich red velvet, plush and immaculate despite the years. Nestled within it were sets of exquisite gold jewelry. It seed to have it all, containing several sets of bracelets, necklaces, rings, earrings and so much more. And every individual piece would have cost a fortune.
Words deserted her completely. She opened her mouth, then closed it again, feeling montarily overwheld. Her throat tightened as she stared at the treasures resting before her.
She was still transfixed when she felt the settee dip beside her as the queen finally took her seat.
"Thank you, Your Majesty," Elka said at last, finding her voice even though it felt fragile. "Words cannot begin to describe how you have made feel. I am overflowing with gratitude. You are most generous."
When she looked up, she found the queen studying her thoughtfully, sothing softer than approval lingering in her expression.
"I always wanted a daughter, a child just for ," Nheera began, her tone as gentle as a mother’s caress. "My sons all resemble their father in one way or another. I had hoped for a girl, one who looked like , who shared my face, and my eyes." A faint, wistful laugh left her. "Whenever I watched mothers and their daughters at balls, whispering together, laughing behind fans, I would envy them in silence. They had sothing I did not, and it stung more than I ever allowed anyone to see."
Her gaze remained locked with Elka’s.
"As Jayran and Azul grew older, I prayed to the gods to bless with a daughter of my own," she continued softly. "For years, it seed the gods were deaf to my pleas. But now, I realize my prayers have been answered through you. You are my child now, as much as any of my sons."
It was touching. Truly heartwarming.
A kind welco into the family had not been sothing Elka had expected today.
Then Nheera’s nostrils flared subtly. Her brows furrowed.
"Darling," she said slowly, false concern threading through her voice, "did you hurt yourself?" The tallic scent of blood had reached her.
Elka froze. Her heart slamd violently against her ribs. For a mont, her thoughts scattered entirely. How could the queen possibly know?
Then she felt it. A warm trickle slid down her back beneath the heavy layers of silk.
The wounds had reopened.
Panic clawed at her throat, but she forced it down. She had to think quickly. There was no room for hesitation.
Drawing in a slow breath, she allowed a faint blush to color her cheeks. She lowered her gaze modestly, fingers tightening subtly around the box.
"No, Your Majesty," she said softly, her tone laced with shy embarrassnt. "My monthlies began late last night."
The lie slipped from her tongue with alarming ease.
She could have told the queen the truth—that her father had whipped her rcilessly across the back only days before her wedding. She could have shown her the wounds hidden beneath silk and lace.But she doubted anything would truly be done. And she could not afford to test that doubt.
In the worst-case scenario, her father would discover that she had dared to speak out and punish her even more severely for it. So she lied, and she endured in silence. Pushing down her pain and enduring it was all she had been doing for years so it wasn’t too hard for her to do now.
The queen continued to stare at her, lips twisting ever so slightly.
"That’s quite unfortunate," the queen said, her tone edged with skepticism. It was painfully clear that she did not believe a single word Elka had spoken.
***
The wedding and the feast that followed passed in a dizzying blur. Music swelled beneath the vaulted ceilings of the grand hall, mingling with the roar of laughter and the loud clinking as guests knocked their goblets together in rrint.
Nobles in tailored glittering attire raised their cups in endless toasts, cheering for the happiness of the newly married couple. The air was thick with perfu, roasted ats, and the sweetness of poured wine. Fresh blood was served along with the wine and everyone partook in the feast.
Everywhere Elka looked, there were smiles—bright, effortless smiles. Laughter rippled through the crowd as guests danced and mingled and as day turned to night, the more intoxicated the guests beca.
Everyone smiled. Everyone except Hairan and Elka.
She might have attempted a smile herself, but she feared it would twist into sothing closer to a grimace. Pain pulsed relentlessly along her back as more warm blood trickled beneath the fabric of her gown. The stiff material brushed against her wounds with every shallow breath she drew, and she had to fight to keep her expression blank.
Everything hurt. It hurt to sit upright. It hurt to breathe too deeply.
It hurt most of all to sit beside Hairan while hundreds of curious eyes lingered on them.
Years from now, she would look back on this day. And when she did, she would rember it not as a celebration, but as one of the worst days of her life.
A maid approached quietly, stopping just beside her chair. The woman bowed before delivering the ssage she had clearly been instructed to relay.
"The queen asks that you co with ," the maid said softly, low enough that only Elka could hear.
Elka lifted her gaze toward the high table where the king and queen sat together. Nheera’s eyes were already fixed upon her over the rim of a wine cup.
Elka felt her heart drop to her feet. She already knew what this was about, and dread pooled heavily in her stomach.
Still, she rose without protest and followed the maid obediently, like the well-trained lamb her father had shaped her to be.
She had never stepped foot inside Hairan’s private chambers before, nor had she ever been told where it was located. Yet as they turned down the corner and the music from the feast faded behind them, she knew instinctively where they were headed.
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