Emilia jerks awake with a scream, her chest heaving. The morning light barely creeps through the curtains, but her heart is pounding like drums of war.
The remnants of her nightmare cling to her skin like sweat—visions of a blade raised high and King Alexander's cold decree echoing through the execution grounds.
June bursts into the room, closely followed by Alice. Both maids drop to their knees by her bed, panic written all over their faces.
Neither of them has been able to sleep a wink. They keep their eyes open in case anything else happens.
"Your Majesty! What happened?" June asks, trembling.
"It's nothing," Emilia mutters, her voice shaky. But deep down, she knows better—her time is numbered.
She sits upright, clutching the silk sheets as a heavy silence settles over the room. Why hasn't anyone come to arrest her yet? After what she did last night,
Lucas's men should have stormed in by now. The fact that they haven't only deepens her anxiety.
"Did you hear anything from the King's quarters?" she asks, voice barely above a whisper.
Both women shake their heads.
Emilia's mind races.
No news at all? Either he's dead and everything's being covered up—or worse, he's alive and biding his time.
Her gaze lands on the glass and cup laid on the table. Fury surges through her. In a fit of rage, she swipes the tray off the table, sending it crashing to the floor.
"I can't lose my life for nothing," she mutters, standing abruptly.
She throws on a robe from the hanger and strides toward the door. Alice and June exchange worried glances before hurrying after her.
The walk through the palace halls is eerily quiet. Not a single guard stands outside the King's chambers.
No servants bustling, no whispers. Just stillness.
It's very weird.
"Your Majesty, maybe we shouldn't…" Alice begins, stepping in front of her.
"I need to see it for myself," Emilia says, eyes cold with resolve.
"Stay here. If I don't come out in five minutes, run. You will find a map in my safe, take it and escape the palace."
Without waiting for their reply, she turns and heads toward the King's door. Her steps slow as she nears it.
Pressing her ear to the door, she listens—nothing.
No movement. No voices.
Heart thudding, she knocks.
A sharp voice erupts from within.
"Who's there?!"
It's Thomas. She hears the unmistakable sound of a sword being drawn.
The door creaks open, and Robert steps out. His eyes widen when he sees her.
"Miss…Your Majesty," he corrects himself quickly, bowing his head.
"What are you doing here?"
Thomas growls behind him, stepping forward with fury blazing in his eyes.
Emilia glances past him—King Lucas lies motionless on the bed.
A strange emotion twists in her chest. Guilt? Regret? But she clenches her jaw, reminding herself: He's the enemy.
"You came to see if he's dead, didn't you?" Thomas spits, hand tightening around his sword.
Robert moves between them to remind him.
"The King ordered us not to act until he wakes. That is his command."
"And you're just going to let her walk away after what she did?" Thomas snaps, refusing to listen.
"I'm sure she has her reasons," Robert says softly.
"Please return first" he turns to Emilia.
Emilia stares at them, at the lifeless form on the bed, her eyes faltering then nods once.
"I'll leave now."
"Thank your stars he's not dead," Thomas mutters, turning away in disgust.
As she exits, the door clicks shut behind her.
Alice and June rush to her side, eyes full of questions they don't dare ask.
"Let's return," Emilia says quietly, walking back toward the Gold Palace.
Relief mixes with dread inside her.
Her head is safe—for now. But her plan has failed. The man who took her father's life still breathes, and now she has no idea what he'll do next.
---
Meanwhile, in the Silver Palace…
Consort Eleanor reclines on a cushioned seat in the courtyard, sipping delicately on jasmine tea.
Her expression is composed, but the upward curl of her lips betrays her satisfaction.
A small army of servants surrounds her. After all, she is the only daughter of the Prime Minister—a woman of elegance and influence. When she entered the palace as consort, her father made sure she had every luxury.
Hurrying towards her, her handmaid, Missy, leans close and whispers,
"The Queen did not spend the night in the King's chambers last night. Again."
Eleanor smiles, elated and sets her cup down.
"Good. As expected."
She gestures for the maids to bring her favorite cake to celebrate the good news.
The thought that the King continues to shun Emilia comforts her like warm sunlight on a winter day.
Though their marriage two years ago was more political than romantic, Eleanor is still the only woman the King has spent nights with—though rarely in affection, always in obligation.
Yet, it gave her status. Power.
Emilia's sudden elevation to Queen had blindsided her, not to talk of his insistence even after her family's trouble, but now? Now, it seems the King wants nothing to do with his new wife.
Eleanor savors the thought like sweet icing.
There is no need to go pay respect to a Queen that has nothing more than a title.
"What of the other sister? The one who snuck into the King's bed?" she asks, frowning.
The unpleasant issue of both sister has given her headaches for a few days now.
"She's still locked away," Missy answers.
"But… should we keep her there much longer? The Queen might…"
"Let her out?" Eleanor scoffs.
"She still needs to learn—not just anyone can become the king's woman. Being near the King doesn't make her worthy. Let her suffer more."
Missy nods and steps away to carry out the silent order.
Eleanor sips her tea, her confidence blooming. Expecting Missy to arrive with Catherine soon. Today seems like a good day to teach her another hard lesson with the whip.
Queen Henrietta had once tried to challenge her position—and failed. She put on quite a fight and that pushes her.
If she just stayed quiet then she might not bring her case before her father.
Now Emilia would meet the same fate. She's just a spoilt brat with a borrowed crown.
But Missy returns, without Catherine, her face pale and disturbed.
"What is it now?" Eleanor asks, annoyed.
"The Queen has summoned Lady Catherine… and had the servant take her away"
Eleanor straightens. Surprised.
"Emilia?"
"Your highness!" Missy cautions.
"You can't call the Queen that way" she says in a hush voice and look around carefully.
"We can lose our heads."
Eleanor laughs, finding her words ridiculous.
Disrespecting someone like Emilia who is in disfavor with everyone means nothing.
"Since she has decided to rescue her sister, then let it be." Eleanor brushes it off but Missy continues to stare at her shakily.
"That's not it your highness, she also ask for you to come over."
"Yes. Her servant came personally. She's asked for you immediately."
Eleanor looks at the servant approaching, her clothing is cream, the gold belt at her waist shine differently, confirming she is from the Queen's quarters.
"The Queen sends for you immediately." she relays the message to her again.
For a moment, Eleanor says nothing. Then she laughs, dismissing it with a wave of her hand.
"Inform the Queen that I'll come when I'm ready."
"She says now."
At that, Eleanor's expression sharpens. She turns to the Queen's servant.
"Do you forget where you are? You dare demand something of me?"
"I meant no offense, Your Highness," the girl says, bowing deeply.
Eleanor's eyes narrow.
"Lock her up in the backyard. Let her learn to speak with respect. And send someone to tell Emilia I'll come when I'm less busy."
Missy bows and moves to obey.
Eleanor leans back into her chair and slices into her cake, but the sweetness on her tongue is laced with bitterness instead.
Emilia dares give me orders? We'll see how long she lasts.
She thought silently.
---