Seraya’s POV
“Will you be attending the morning council, Your Majesty?”
The maid stood at the edge of my chamber the next day, voice trembling.
I didn’t answer right away.
I looked past her, through the tall windows. The sun hadn’t even broken the sky yet. The air was still grey, heavy.
“No,” I said finally, voice flat.
She hesitated like she wanted to say more. Like she was waiting for the woman I used to be—the queen who gave kind smiles, soft orders.
But that woman was gone.
“You may go,” I said.
She bowed, quick and low, and left without another word.
I was still staring at the window when another knock came. Softer this time. I didn’t answer. Whoever was on the other side pushed the door open and set something down just inside.
I waited until their footsteps faded away before I moved.
A letter. Placed neatly on the table. The seal fresh and unmistakable—Theron’s crest pressed into red wax.
I didn’t need to open it to know what it was.
But I did.
“By royal order, Queen Seraya will be relocated to the southern estate to rest and recover. Effective immediately.”
No explanation. No farewell. Just silence dressed up as mercy.
I folded the letter carefully, placed it back on the table, and stood.
The guards waited outside my door. Their spears polished. Their faces blank. None of them met my eyes when I stepped into the hall.
No one did.
The maids turned away. The courtiers found reasons to busy their hands. Even the steward, who used to bring me council notes personally, pretended not to see me.
It wasn’t a farewell.
It was a removal.
I walked through the palace like a ghost. No whispered goodbyes. No parting glances. Just the steady, heavy thud of doors closing behind me.
The carriage ride south was long and silent. I didn’t ask where we were going. I already knew.
The southern estate.
A place for dignitaries. For peace talks. For exiles the court wanted to forget without the blood on their hands.
The building stood proud when we arrived. Tall white walls. Clean, sharp lines. Empty windows.
The staff greeted me with shallow bows and quiet, practiced words. They spoke only when necessary, their faces blank masks of obedience.
My chambers were large, rich, and hollow. Luxurious without warmth. Grand without meaning. A place built for appearances, not for living.
It wasn’t a home. It was a waiting room.
The servants laid plates in front of me. I left them untouched.
I wandered the halls without reason. Every corridor looked the same—cold, polished, perfect. I ran my hands along the walls just to remind myself I was still real.
The silence followed me. Room to room. Step to step.
Night came fast, but the cold inside stayed.
I sat by the unlit hearth, still in the dress from the journey. I hadn’t touched the fire. I didn’t see the point.
When the door creaked open, I didn’t turn around. But I knew who it was.
Theron.
He crossed the room like he had every right to. Like the walls hadn’t changed. Like he hadn’t made me a stranger in his own court.
“I came to check on you,” he said.
His voice was soft. Careful. Like I was something that might break.
I stayed seated, staring into the dead hearth.
“Did Elowen approve this visit?” I asked, voice sharp.
He flinched. Just barely. But I saw it. He didn’t answer. He only stood there, trying to look concerned. Pretending to care.
I laughed once. It was not a kind sound. “You care now?” I said. “After discarding me in front of the court? After replacing me like a servant who no longer pleased you?”
He stayed silent.
“You humiliated me,” I said. “You discarded me because it was easier. And now you pretend I still matter?”
Still no answer. The silence between us rotted.
I stood slowly, letting him see every inch of the anger he had earned.
“You don’t get to act like this now,” I said, low and shaking. “You chose her.”
Theron said nothing.
“Leave,” I said.
He hesitated, but I turned my back on him before he could make a lousy excuse.
I listened to the door close behind him. I stayed standing until the quiet swallowed me whole.
30
