Seraya’s POV
By morning, the palace had dried—but the storm hadn’t passed.
It had only changed form.
The walls of the palace held a different kind of tension now. A tighter, quieter one. People spoke in lower tones, moved faster down the halls, like they didn’t want to be caught standing still when everything finally cracked.
The council chamber was full.
Lords. Nobles. Court officials. Advisors. Every seat taken. Every pair of eyes focused forward, waiting for the next fracture.
I stood near the dais. Not on it. Not allowed to speak. Not asked to sit. Just a body in a room that used to belong to me.
My guards flanked me, their expressions carefully blank, their armor polished too bright for a day like this.
At the front, the High Priest lifted a scroll. His voice echoed through the room like a closing door, each word cutting sharper than the last.
“By royal decree, the marriage between King Theron of Virelia and Queen Seraya of House Kael is to be annulled within one lunar cycle.”
The words landed like ash. Soft at first. Then choking. “There shall be no appeal. No delay. The decision is final.”
The hall went still. A few gasps broke the air, and yet, not one voice rose in my defense.
I bowed my head, turned, and walked out before the meeting ended. My footsteps rang against the stone floor, too loud, too final.
No one followed.
I moved through the hall with no destination, letting the emptiness press against me from all sides.
It was quiet. As I passed the ceremonial records office, I saw a clerk hunched over a long ledger, a heavy quill scratching across the pages.
He was removing my name from the roster of reigning queens.
The ink he used was too thick, too dark, like he wanted to blot out any memory that I had ever existed.
He didn’t even look up. Farther down, the crown I once wore sat behind glass. Lit gently from below, polished until it gleamed under the torchlight.
I walked past it without pausing, but my hands clenched so tightly at my sides that my nails dug into my palms.
Just then, I noticed Caelum. Half-hidden behind one of the marble columns, just off the main corridor.
He saw me. He watched every step I took—the tightness of my fists, the stiff line of my shoulders, the way my jaw locked like I was holding something too sharp inside.
And I didn’t bother to stop. I kept walking, every step pulling me further away from whatever dignity I still had left.
That night, I locked the chamber door behind me. The bolt slid into place with a hollow click that echoed in the silence.
I moved to the jewelry drawer with slow, mechanical movements.
I opened it and pulled out everything that tied me to him. The gold chain he gave me for our first council season, when he still thought I was something to cherish. The ring that once held a ruby shaped like Virelia’s crest, heavy with promises now broken. The silver hairpin I wore the night he told me I made the throne feel human, when I was still naïve enough to believe it.
One by one, I placed them in a box.
I sealed it shut without ceremony, pressing down hard enough to whiten my knuckles. I sat on the edge of my bed, dress still on, spine straight, and stared at nothing.
The fire in the hearth had burned out hours ago. The room was cold, but I didn’t move to light it.
My eyes burned. But I didn’t cry.
I thought about the life I was supposed to have. The queen I was trained to be. The woman he promised to protect.
Gone. Stripped away in front of everyone.
30
