Lilian remained tied to the punishment wheel, her arms stretched, body aching, the midday sun blazing above her. Time dragged like chains, but not a single cry left her lips. Queen Beatrice sat comfortably under a shaded pavilion with her tea, eyeing the girl with expectation—but the satisfaction she craved never came. Lilian didn't scream, didn't beg.
She simply endured.
Prince Asher approached, casually taking the seat beside his mother. He glanced once at Lilian, then turned his eyes to the Queen.
"You do realize this is pointless," he said coolly.
Beatrice scoffed. "She defied me. She needs to learn her place."
"Perhaps," Asher replied, lifting a brow, "but let's not forget the alliance with Elarion is barely a day old. If King Roland discovers this is how his daughter's being treated, he'll come for your head. And we both know he can take it."
That struck a nerve. Beatrice lowered her cup slowly, her face stiffening at the mention of Roland's name.
Asher leaned in just slightly. "And now that he's aligned with Valmoria…" He trailed off with a knowing look.
Beatrice's fingers tightened around her teacup. Valmoria. Ruthless northern warriors. With their support, Elarion was a force even Dravokia couldn't afford to provoke. A renewed war wouldn't just be foolish—it could be fatal.
She cleared her throat. "Release the princess."
Asher stood and bowed mockingly. "Wise decision."
Scene: Lilian's Recovery
Roselyn was the first to reach Lilian as the guards cut her down. "Milady!" she cried, catching her as she collapsed.
Lilian's legs trembled beneath her; her skin was bruised and raw, but her eyes—though dimmed—still burned with fire.
They brought her to her chambers, where Roselyn helped her into bed, gently applying salves to her wrists. The air was thick with silence and unspoken pain.
"I'm so sorry," Roselyn whispered, tears slipping down her cheeks. "You should've let her punish me. I'm just a servant. It's my place."
Lilian shook her head weakly. "No. You're a person before you're a servant. Don't ever let them make you forget that."
Roselyn clutched her hand, sobbing silently. In that moment, servant and mistress no longer mattered—only pain and the promise of quiet rebellion.
Roselyn was the first to reach Lilian as the guards cut her down. "Milady!" she cried, catching her as she collapsed.
Lilian's legs trembled beneath her; her skin was bruised and raw, but her eyes—though dimmed—still burned with fire.
They brought her to her chambers, where Roselyn helped her into bed, gently applying salves to her wrists. The air was thick with silence and unspoken pain.
"I'm so sorry," Roselyn whispered, tears slipping down her cheeks. "You should've let her punish me. I'm just a servant. It's my place."
Lilian shook her head weakly. "No. You're a person before you're a servant. Don't ever let them make you forget that."
Roselyn clutched her hand, sobbing silently. In that moment, servant and mistress no longer mattered—only pain and the promise of quiet rebellion.
Roselyn helped Lilian back into bed, wiping her forehead gently with a damp cloth. Her hands trembled, still shaken from the day's events.
"I... I heard it was Prince Asher," she whispered softly. "He's the one who convinced the Queen to release you."
Lilian blinked slowly, her body aching. "Asher?"
Roselyn nodded. "He's the reason you're still breathing."
Lilian turned her head toward the window, letting silence fill the room. She hadn't expected kindness from anyone in this palace, let alone from the Queen's other son.
For a while, they didn't speak. Roselyn remained by her side, her presence soft and comforting like a lullaby. Eventually, sleep took them both—Roselyn curled up on a blanket by the bed, and Lilian breathing slow and shallow in the dark.
---
The Next Morning
The sun had barely risen when the chamber doors slammed open.
Roselyn jolted awake first, heart pounding. Henry's voice echoed through the room.
"Get up!" he snapped, his eyes bloodshot and jaw clenched.
Lilian stirred, her body still sore. She sat up slowly, her brow furrowed in confusion.
Henry pointed at Roselyn. "Out."
Roselyn looked at Lilian, hesitant. But Lilian nodded. "It's fine. Go."
Roselyn scrambled to her feet, bowing as she rushed out.
Now it was just the two of them.
"Take off your clothes," he said flatly.
Lilian stared at him. "Excuse me?"
"I said take them off. Don't make me repeat myself."
She laughed — soft at first, then louder, more bitter than amused. "And if I don't? Will you drag me out again? Chain me to your little punishment wheel?"
She stood, not in fear, but like a queen rising from her throne.
"You forget yourself, Henry. I am not some servant to command. I'm the daughter of King Roland, firstborn of Elarion — and I am not your toy."
Her voice dropped to a razor's edge. "You want obedience? Try earning it. Until then, I suggest you leave."
For a moment, silence hung between them like smoke.
Henry's jaw tightened, but he didn't speak. He turned sharply and left, slamming the door behind him.