Valka
Lucien didn't come to me and I didn't seek him out. I saw him at breakfast and dinner. I saw him whenever I looked out my window at the scenery, and sometimes his eyes met mine. I'd waited for it to ebb, the anger. But when it finally did, I felt... cold.
Not betrayal. Not frustration. Not anger. Not even a tinge of sadness.
The numbing cold that had started right after our wedding night had spread through my chest, icing the very blood in my veins, and I let it. I welcome it.
I understood perfectly what my place was and never strayed from it. I attended the wedding revelries alongside him. I learned etiquette and customs. I attended the Council meetings. I learned diplomacy. I hosted the women of Court and listened to their unending gossips. I drank tea. I wore the pretty dresses and the tiaras. But I never looked at him. Never spoke to him except when spoken to. Most times, not at all.
