The following day dawned with a brilliance that felt almost aggressive in its cheerfulness. The sky was a flawless, piercing blue, with just a few innocent, wispy clouds scattered across the horizon like lost thoughts. The sun shone brightly, casting a warm, golden glow over the landscape outside the castle windows. A gentle breeze carried the sweet, intoxicating scent of blooming flowers through the air, and the temperature was just right—not too hot, not too cold, a perfect, mocking picture of peace.
The world outside felt alive, with birds singing their sweet melodies and leaves rustling softly in the trees. It was a day that felt full of possibility and promise, a day when anything, even surviving life in a monster's palace, seemed achievable.
Jackline was not going to let anything ruin her day today, not even Christopher. She sipped the tea in her cup, a fragrant blend of lavender and mint, savoring the taste. For the first time since coming here, she truly enjoyed it. Even though she was taking her breakfast alone in the vast, echoing dining room, she was already getting used to the isolation.
But deep down, a restless energy churned. She couldn't help but ask the question that hung in the air like a ghost. "Where is the King?" As much as she resented him, she needed to get close to him, one way or another. She needed answers. Her task would be difficult, since Christopher always pushed her away, but this time she would try harder. She would not be dismissed.
"He's having a meeting with the elders at the throne room," one of the guards said, his voice a low rumble. "He rarely takes his breakfast," he continued, as if trying to politely explain the King's perennial absence from her life.
But she didn't care whether the king wanted to have breakfast with her or not. What she cared about was him deliberately excluding her from the meeting. She was the Queen. She was supposed to rule beside him, not sit in a separate room like a porcelain doll. She would not let him dismiss her again. She would not let the king disrespect her a second time.
Once she was done with her breakfast, she stood up, the rustle of her silk gown sounding like a challenge in the quiet room. "Take me to the throne room."
"But, my queen, the king instructed..." the guard, a tall man named Ramien, spoke, his posture stiff and formal. He was clearly in disagreement with her, torn between the direct order of his King and the command of his Queen.
"Ramien, I don't care what the king said." Her voice was low and steady, laced with a new-found resolve. "I am the Queen, and I shall decide for myself. Now, take me to him. That is a command."
He knew he couldn't refuse the queen, not without a greater breach of protocol. But if the king found out he had gone against his words, the consequences could be dire. He was a man caught in an impossible bind.
"Fine. I'll go on my own." Jackline said, turning her back on him and starting to walk with a determined stride. The faint sounds of the beautiful day outside seemed to fade with every step, replaced by the grim reality of the stone palace.
Surprisingly, Ramien fell in step behind her, a silent shadow. His obedience was a small victory, a chip in the fortress Christopher had built around his power.
They finally reached the massive, imposing doors of the throne room. The air in the corridor was cooler here, the sounds from inside muffled. She could feel the weight of power emanating from the room. She paused for a moment, taking a deep, fortifying breath.
"Her Majesty, the Queen, Jackline." Her presence was announced by Ramien's voice, a formal declaration that echoed down the long hall.
Then, the doors were pushed open, the heavy wood groaning in protest. The vast throne room was revealed. The elders of the kingdom were a circle of stern faces, their eyes darting to her in surprise. And there, seated upon his throne, a vision of Nordic perfection and cold power, was Christopher. His eyes met hers across the expanse of the room, a silent, powerful collision of wills. The blue of his gaze was no longer warm and icy; it was pure, unadulterated ice, a warning and a challenge all at once.