Elowen's pov.
We entered together.
The moment my foot crossed the threshold of Solcar's great hall, sound rushed to meet us. Men cheered openly, voices loud and approving, and cups lifted high in celebration of their prince's return. Women were quieter. Some inclined their heads with perfect courtesy.
Others did not bother to hide their disdain. Their gazes slid over me, sharp and measuring, mouths drawn tight as if I were an inconvenience they had not been warned about.
I straightened my spine and kept walking.
"This is how a queen walks," I told myself. "Even if she does not feel like one."
Something tugged at my attention, and I looked back.
Cassian had slowed half a step behind me, caught in the spill of evening light pouring through the high arches. For a breath, the sharpness I had come to expect softened. Gold traced the edges of his dark hair, warming his features, easing the severity of his expression. His eyes caught the light and held it, bright and commanding.
I swallowed.
"He looks unreal," I thought. "Like he belongs to the sun."
He seemed to feel i, too. His shoulders settled, his posture loosening into something assured and effortless. Power fit him easily.
Too easily.
My gaze slipped away, unsettled, and landed on the crowd.
I saw her at once.
The woman who had waved earlier stood near the front, as though she had every right to be there. Her gown was a deep wine red, rich and deliberate, embroidered with fine gold thread that shimmered with every movement. Dark curls framed her face in careful disorder, and her smile was slow, confident and practised.
Beautiful.
"Prettier than me," I thought, the admission sharp and unwelcome.
Before I could stop myself, I glanced at Cassian again.
His eyes found her, and something in his expression shifted. Not openly. Not enough for anyone else to comment. But I saw it. Warmth. Familiarity.It was an ease that I had not yet earned.
"That look is not meant for me," I realized, and the thought left me cold.
Cassian raised a hand, and the hall quieted at once.
"My lords," he said smoothly, as though nothing in the room could ever challenge him. "You honour us with your welcome."
He paused, letting the silence stretch.
"My wife and I are weary from the journey. We will not be attending the welcoming feast this evening. We intend to rest."
The words landed hard.
I felt the insult ripple through the gathered nobles before I saw it on their faces. Backs straightened. Smiles tightened. This was not proper. This was not respectful. Especially not in the king's absence.
But the king was seemenly absent.
And no one dared oppose him.
One by one, they nodded. Murmured their understanding. Accepted the slight because they had no choice.
Cassian did not linger. He turned abruptly and seized my wrist.
The grip was firm, unyielding. I stumbled, breath catching as I was pulled forward, forced to match his pace. He did not look back. He did not need to.
I followed.
Torchlit corridors swallowed us, the sounds of celebration fading behind stone walls. With each step, my thoughts spiralled faster, darker, circling what waited ahead.
"The bed," my mind whispered. "The night. The consummation I have been trying not to imagine."
The chamber doors loomed.
My pulse thundered as he dragged me inside.
The doors closed behind us with a heavy, final sound, and fear washed over me again, sharp and unavoidable, settling deep in my chest where courage struggled to breathe.