I had not meant to intrude.
The corridor was usually empty at this hour, the palace lulled into a hush so deep it almost resembled peace.
I carried folded linens against my chest, my steps light, practiced—until I heard it.
Crying.
The sound struck like a blade between my ribs.
I stopped.
At the far end of the corridor stood General Griselda.
She was braced against the stone wall as though it were the only thing keeping her upright.
One hand covered her face. The other hung at her side, trembling—trembling—in a way I had never seen before.
I had watched her take wounds without flinching. I had seen her return from battle drenched in blood, jaw set, eyes clear.
This was worse.
“General…?” I asked softly, unsure whether I should speak at all.
She startled, breath catching sharply, but she did not turn. Her shoulders shook harder, the sound breaking loose now—raw, unguarded
“I—” I hesitated, then lowered the linens to the floor and stepped closer. “I saw Sir Isaac leave just now,” I said quietly. “He looked… angry.”
That was not the right word.
Furious. Broken.
Whatever restraint Griselda had left shattered.
A sound tore from her throat, something torn straight from the depths of her chest, and her knees gave out beneath her. She collapsed to the floor as if the strength had simply abandoned her.
I dropped beside her without thinking, skirts pooling on the cold stone.
“Please,” I whispered, reaching for her hands. They were cold. Shockingly so. “You can tell me. I won’t repeat a word. I swear it.”
Her fingers curled weakly around mine.
For a heartbeat—just one—I thought she might speak.
Then—
Heels.
Sharp. Measured. Unmistakable.
The air changed instantly, thickening as if the corridor itself were holding its breath.
Griselda stiffened.
She tore her hands from mine and forced herself upright with military precision, wiping her face with the heel of her palm, shoulders squaring by sheer force of will.
I followed her lead at once, rising and bowing low as the Empress entered the corridor.
Odessa moved as though the palace parted for her.
Imperial guards flanked her, armor gleaming, expressions empty. Her gaze flicked briefly toward me—dismissive, uninterested—before settling on Griselda.
“I trust everything has been handled, then?” the Empress asked calmly.
Griselda bowed her head. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
Odessa studied her for a long moment. Her face betrayed nothing.
“Good,” she said at last. “Zaeran must be returned to her bed. Atarae should be prepared for departure.” A pause. Deliberate. “I wish to see her before she is sent off.”
My heart stuttered.
Prepared for departure?
Griselda lifted her head. “As you command.”
Odessa turned her attention to me, her lips curving into something that almost resembled kindness.
Almost.
“Aila,” she said smoothly. “You will prepare Princess Atarae.”
I swallowed hard and bowed deeper. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
Questions clawed at my chest, panic blooming just beneath my ribs—but the palace had taught me well. Silence was often safer than truth.
I gathered the linens and retreated quickly, the Empress’s gaze burning into my back until I rounded the corner.
Only then did I stop, pressing my back against the wall, straining to hear.
A sharp intake of breath.
The soft, unmistakable sound of fingers gripping flesh.
Odessa’s voice dropped dangerously low, intimate in a way that made my skin crawl.
“Keep your mouth shut about this,” she said. “Unless you wish to be executed, my dear.”
A pause.
Then a broken sound—small, choked—one Griselda would never allow anyone else to hear.
“You— you’re—”
“Cruel? Monstrous?” Odessa supplied lightly. “Darling, I’m playing a game you don’t understand. So do as I say.”
I glanced back—only for a second.
Tears clung to the General’s lashes.
The Empress smiled.
She shoved Griselda’s face aside with casual cruelty and straightened, already turning away.
Griselda stood frozen, one hand pressed to her cheek, eyes wide and glassy, tears streaking her face. She did not speak.
And Griselda never failed to speak.
That silence frightened me more than anything else.
“Keep a close watch on her,” Odessa ordered the guards. “I will not tolerate loose ends.”
Then she was gone.
The corridor felt colder in her absence.
I stood there for several heartbeats before forcing myself to move.
Princess Atarae was waiting.
As I passed the war room, I glanced inside.
Isaac stood whispering furiously to General Derek, his hands clenched, his face twisted with a rage I had never seen before.
I hurried on.
The palace was a place of cruelty disguised as decorum. Indifference dressed up as discipline.
But who was I to judge?
I handed the linens to a passing maid, who accepted them without question and hurried away.
Alone again, I made my way toward Atarae’s chambers, a heavy ache settling deep in my chest.
I did not know what had happened.
I did not know what was being taken from her.
But I would help her.
I had to.
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