He didn't wait for her to move. He held the door open, a silent, unyielding sentinel, a master of dismissal. The unspoken message was clear: her presence was an inconvenience, her questions an annoyance.
She stared at him, the heat of anger quickly giving way to a cold, hard resentment that felt like a physical chill. She was the Queen. She was a woman with a mind of her own, a spirit that had not, and would not, be treated like a child's or a possession.
With as much dignity as she could muster, she lifted her chin and walked past him, a deliberate brush of her shoulder against his, a small act of defiance. His body was a wall of cold marble, unyielding and indifferent. She didn't look at his face, but she felt his gaze follow her, a heavy, physical weight on her back, a silent promise of perpetual surveillance.
She stepped out into the empty corridor, the heavy oak door closing behind her with a soft, definitive click that seemed to seal her fate and amplify her isolation. The silence in the hallway was immediate and profound, a stark contrast to the simmering, unreleased rage in her heart.
She stormed into her chamber, slamming the door shut behind her with a satisfying thud that rattled the paintings on the wall. "Who does he think he is?" she muttered, pacing back and forth across the plush carpet, her hands clenched into fists, her breath coming in short, sharp bursts.
All her life, as a princess and now as a queen, no one had ever disrespected her the way her husband, the "Shadow King," had just done. Dismissing her as if she were a fly, a minor interruption in the grand, dark scheme of his day.
"Dismissing me like that." She rolled her eyes, scoffing at the memory of his cold, perfect face and his icy blue eyes.
She paced back and forth, her anger a hot, living thing inside her. She stopped in front of the ornate, full-length mirror to look at her reflection. The anger and hurt were evident on her flushed face, her red hair a wild halo of defiance. Then she continued pacing. "He's not even attractive," she said aloud, scoffing again, a lie she told herself to dull the sting of his brutal, god-like beauty and his even more brutal, soul-crushing indifference.
Her mind filled with all the cutting, brilliant things she should have said, the retorts that had died in her throat under his intimidating gaze. The next time, she promised herself, she would be ready. The next time, she would have answers, and she would have teeth.
Just as she was about to turn around and march right back to his study, a new wave of anger fueling her resolve, she heard a faint, polite knock on the door. It wasn't Maddy's gentle rap. She opened it to find one of the maids standing there, a girl around her age who clearly disliked her. Her grey eyes held nothing, a blank, almost hostile mask, her black hair pulled into a tight, severe ponytail.
"I was sent to ask if you would like to have your lunch in the dining room or would you like it in your room?" she asked, her voice flat and devoid of any warmth.
There was something strange about her, a coldness that felt familiar, like a smaller, paler reflection of her husband's aura. A new thread in the tapestry of unease that was her new life.
"I am not hungry."
The maid was about to leave, her task completed.
"What is your name?" Jackline asked, a sudden instinct taking over.
The maid paused, her back to Jackline, taking her time before answering. "My name is Elara." She finally turned, her eyes meeting Jackline's with a cold, unsettling directness that made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. "I will leave now." The words were delivered as if being in the same room as the Queen of the castle was an unbearable annoyance.
Jackline watched, a new wave of suspicion washing over her, as the door shut. She wondered why all the people seemed to dislike her, then her mind went back to Christopher and the anger she felt came back in full force. The insolence of the servant was a direct reflection of her husband's treatment. A Queen without respect was no Queen at all.
The initial shock of her husband's disregard was gone, replaced by a deep-seated resolve.
She walked back to the mirror, the anger still a hot presence, but now with a sharper edge. She was the Queen, She wasn't just a pawn to be pushed around by a man with god-like features and a void for a heart.