Kate stepped into the room wearing a wide, dangerous smile.
It was the kind of smile that promised trouble.
"Queen Emily is back," she said smoothly. "And she demands your presence downstairs."
Clover frowned.
"The Queen?" she repeated. "Why does she want to see me?"
Kate let out a short laugh.
"When you get downstairs, you can ask her yourself." Her eyes swept over Clover with open contempt. "Or did you think you could live in this palace for free?"
Clover's brows knitted together.
Kate took another step closer.
"You really think you can steal my man?"
Clover blinked.
Then, despite herself, a dry laugh escaped her.
"Who on earth would steal someone like Dylan?"
Kate's face darkened instantly.
Clover folded her arms.
"The person would probably end up strangled before she even got close."
Kate's jaw tightened.
Clover's lips curved into the faintest smirk.
"You're just unfortunate he doesn't love you."
Kate froze.
"Unlike me," Clover added, her voice light but sharp enough to cut.
For a second, silence filled the room.
Clover could almost hear the crack in Kate's composure.
She had let Kate humiliate her at the party.
She had swallowed it.
Stayed quiet.
Tried to keep the peace.
But clearly, peace meant nothing in this world.
If everyone around her wanted madness…
Then maybe she should stop being the only sane one in the room.
Kate's face twisted with fury.
"You little whore—"
The slap came hard and fast.
Clover's head snapped to the side.
A sharp sting exploded across her cheek.
Her eyes watered instantly.
"Watch your mouth, human," Kate hissed.
Clover slowly lifted her hand to her burning cheek.
The tears threatening her eyes only made her angrier.
"Now," Kate said coldly, "go downstairs and pay your respects to the Queen."
Clover straightened.
Every part of her screamed to lunge at Kate.
Instead, she forced herself upright and met Kate's gaze.
"Dylan instructed me not to leave this room," she said firmly. "I'll pay my respects another time."
She turned her back.
"You should leave."
Kate stared at her in disbelief.
Then rage flashed in her eyes.
In the next second, Clover cried out.
Kate had grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her back so violently that pain shot through her scalp.
"Let me go!" Clover shouted, struggling.
Kate laughed.
"You really are a weak human."
With a brutal shove, she threw Clover to the floor.
Clover landed hard.
Pain shot through her knee as it scraped against the polished stone.
Before she could recover, Kate crouched in front of her.
She grabbed Clover's hair again and forced her face upward.
Clover whimpered in pain.
Kate smirked.
"Do you really think Dylan loves you?"
Clover glared at her but said nothing.
Kate's smile widened.
"Your face, Clover…"
Her voice dropped into something darker.
"It looks just like his dead lover's."
Clover's breath caught.
For one stunned moment, everything around her went still.
Kate's eyes glittered with cruel satisfaction.
"That's why I'm going to tear that face off today."
She shoved Clover's jaw away so roughly that Clover nearly toppled sideways.
Then Kate stood.
"Get her."
Two men stepped forward at once.
Clover's eyes narrowed.
They weren't palace guards.
She was sure of it.
They seized her by both arms before she could fight back.
"Let me go!"
Her protest meant nothing.
They dragged her out of the room.
By the time they reached the main hall, Clover's heart was pounding.
The two men forced her down to the floor in front of a grand seat where Queen Emily sat like she owned the entire world.
Kate walked over and sat gracefully near her, her expression immediately shifting into innocent obedience.
"She refused to come willingly," Kate said sweetly. "So I had to put her in her place."
Queen Emily smiled warmly at her.
"You did well, Kate."
Her gaze turned approving.
"You are truly fit to be the future Queen of Ashen."
Kate's face lit with pride.
Clover, still on her knees, looked up.
So this was Queen Emily.
Elegant.
Beautiful.
And somehow far colder than Dylan.
Queen Emily's gaze landed on Clover at last.
There was no warmth in it.
Only disdain.
"Come here," she said. "Pour me some tea."
Clover slowly pushed herself to her feet.
Her knee still hurt from the fall.
Her cheek still burned.
But she walked over anyway.
She reached for the tea jug with trembling fingers and carefully began to pour.
Her hands were shaking too much.
The jug slipped.
Hot tea splashed across Queen Emily's hand.
The Queen gasped and dropped the cup instantly.
Kate shot to her feet.
Before Clover could even apologize—
Another slap landed across her face.
Harder than the first.
Clover staggered.
"Insolent creature," Queen Emily said coldly.
"I-I'm sorry, Ma'am," Clover stammered, panicking. "I didn't mean to—"
She reached for the Queen's hand, trying to wipe the tea away with the edge of her dress.
Queen Emily shoved her violently.
Clover fell to the floor again.
Pain shot through her side.
"You really have some nerve for a human," Kate sneered.
She turned toward the guards.
"Fifteen strokes."
Clover's blood ran cold.
"No—"
But the men were already moving.
They hauled her up.
And then—
The first stroke landed.
A cry tore from Clover's throat.
The second.
The third.
By the fourth, her knees nearly gave out.
Each lash felt like fire tearing across her back and sides.
It was agony.
Pure, blinding agony.
By the time the fifteenth stroke landed, Clover could barely breathe.
The men released her.
She collapsed to the floor, trembling.
Kate stepped forward, her heels clicking softly against the marble.
She bent down just enough for Clover to hear every word.
"If Lord Dylan hears what happened here today…"
Her smile turned vicious.
"Consider yourself dead."
Then she straightened.
Without another glance, Kate walked away with Queen Emily, leaving Clover crumpled on the floor in pain.
It took Clover several minutes just to stand.
Every breath hurt.
Every movement burned.
Still, she forced herself up.
Slowly.
Painfully.
She made her way back upstairs alone.
No one helped her.
No one even looked at her.
By the time she reached her room, her legs were shaking.
She went straight to the bathroom.
The bath was cold.
Painfully cold.
But she needed it.
She cleaned herself in silence, biting down on her lip every time the water touched the raw marks across her skin.
When she was done, she opened the small first-aid box and carefully wrapped the worst of the injuries with trembling hands.
It hurt so much her eyes filled with tears.
Still, she finished.
Then she changed into a loose nightdress.
She didn't know how long she had been inside.
Minutes?
An hour?
She wasn't sure.
But when she stepped out of the bathroom—
She froze.
Dylan was there.
He stood near the bed, bare-chested, dressed only in black trousers that hung low on his hips.
He had just finished unfastening them.
For a second, Clover forgot how to breathe.
Her eyes widened.
And, traitorously, her face warmed.
Even now…
Even now, after everything…
He looked unfairly good.
Broad shoulders.
Hard chest.
That maddening, dangerous presence.
Why is it that every time I look at him, I don't feel anger first?
Why does it always become something else?
Something she couldn't name.
Dylan turned.
His gaze found her instantly.
And sharpened.
He noticed her tension immediately.
He began walking toward her.
"Why are you so tense?" he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Haven't you seen a man's body before?"
Clover swallowed hard.
"Come here."
Before she could protest, Dylan reached for her and placed a hand at the small of her back, pulling her closer.
The moment his hand brushed the hidden wounds beneath the fabric—
Clover gasped.
A broken sound escaped her lips.
She jerked away.
Dylan stopped.
His expression changed at once.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing," Clover said too quickly.
She pulled herself free and moved toward the bed.
What was the point of telling him?
That his mother and the woman who wanted to marry him had humiliated and beaten her?
It wasn't as if he would fight his own mother because of her.
He would probably just—
Suddenly, Dylan caught her wrist.
Before she could react, he pulled her back in one swift movement and turned her around.
"Dylan—"
His hand gripped the edge of the bandaged fabric hidden beneath her nightdress.
Then he tore it.
The cloth ripped apart.
Clover's breath caught.
The ruined fabric fell away.
And what Dylan saw—
Made the entire room go still.
His face darkened instantly.
Every trace of amusement vanished.
The temperature in the room seemed to drop.
His eyes locked onto the bruises.
The red welts.
The marks wrapped across her skin.
The silence that followed was terrifying.
"Who did this to you?"
His voice was low.
Deadly.
Clover stared at him, stunned by the sudden shift.
Then, as if realizing how exposed she was, she spun around and clutched the torn fabric against herself.
"It's none of your business," she said, her voice unsteady.
Dylan shut his eyes for one brief second.
When he opened them again, they were colder than she had ever seen.
"Elias."
The word cracked through the room like thunder.
The door opened instantly.
Elias stepped in and bowed.
"My lord."
Dylan didn't take his eyes off Clover.
"What happened?