Chapter 65 Fighting

Chapter 65 Fighting
Lily's POV

“Her Majesty summons you,” she said calmly. “You are to come at once.”

Her tone was all command, no room for debate.

I nodded to myself, composing my expression before responding, "I understand."

She gave a single, curt nod and turned to leave, clearly expecting me to follow.

I followed her through the corridors, dread filling my bones. The incense smell got stronger as we walked. The guards stood up straight as we passed, not sparing us a curious glance. We stopped in front of a door with intricate carvings. The woman nodded slightly, gesturing for me to wait and slipped inside.

Moments later, the doors opened.

“Enter.” Queen Rhoda’s elegant voice called out.

I stepped forward, my heartbeat loud in my ears.

She sat near the window upon a raised seat, draped in dark silk. Jewels gleamed in her hair, catching the light. She did not rise. She did not smile.

That told me I was in deep trouble.

“You took your time,” she said.

“I came as quickly as I was summoned, Your Majesty,” I replied, lowering my head.

“Did you?” she asked softly. “Or were you… occupied elsewhere?”

I held my breath but kept my voice steady. “I would never delay your call.”

She hummed, tapping her fingers against the armrest.

“Last night’s ritual was meant to cleanse this palace,” she said. “Yet unrest remains.”

Her gaze sharpened as it settled on me.

“And unrest has a way of rooting itself in places it does not belong.”

A chill crawled down my spine.

“Tell me, Lily,” Queen Rhoda continued, “where were you when the ceremony reached its peak?”

Slowly, I lifted my eyes to meet hers. I hesitated before speaking, rubbing my arms slightly as I tried to play my lie.

“The ceremony became uncomfortable for me, Your Majesty,” I said quietly. “The air felt strange. Cold. I started feeling unwell.”

Queen Rhoda’s brows drew together at once. “Cold?” she repeated, standing up. “Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

She came closer, her steps quick, concern written plainly on her face. When she placed a hand on my shoulder, it was firm but gentle, like she truly meant to steady me.

“You’re pale,” she said. “Sit down.”

I obeyed, lowering myself onto the nearest seat. My throat tightened, and I let out a small cough, turning my face aside as though I were embarrassed by it.

“I didn’t want to interrupt the ritual,” I said. “Everyone seemed so focused. I thought it would pass.”

“It shouldn’t have to,” she replied immediately. “You’re not meant to suffer through these things.”

She poured me a cup of warm tea herself and pressed it into my hands. The heat seeped into my fingers, grounding me more than I expected.

“Drink,” she said softly.

I nodded and took a careful sip, my hands shaking just enough for her to notice.

Queen Rhoda sighed. “These ceremonies can be harsh, especially on someone new to the palace. You’re still adjusting.”

Her tone wasn’t sharp, as I was expecting. If anything, it was almost… motherly.

“You should rest,” she continued. “I won’t have you falling ill under my watch."

She turned slightly and gestured to her maid. “Go with her. Make sure her chambers are warm, and bring her something soothing.”

The maid bowed at once.

I stood, offering a small bow of my own. “Thank you, Your Majesty. I’m sorry for the trouble.”

She waved it away. “There is no trouble. Take care of yourself, Crown Princess.”

As I followed the maid out, my steps slowed, my chest felt relieved. It seems I was out of trouble because her concern felt real.

To be honest, I had expected suspicion, or at the very least indifference. Not warmth. Not that steady hand on my shoulder, or the way her voice had softened when she told me to rest.

She wasn't like Elliott.

“Crown Princess!”

I turned just as Anya came rushing toward me, breathless, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Her eyes darted over me as if checking to make sure I was still in one piece.

“I went to your room,” she said, her voice strained with worry. “You weren’t there. I’ve been running all over the palace looking for you.”

She crossed her arms, clearly upset, though relief flickered across her face when she finally found me.

“You can’t just disappear like that,” she grumbled. “What if something happened to you? Do you have any idea how scared I was?”

I opened my mouth to speak, but Queen Rhoda’s maid turned to Anya before I could say anything.

“The Crown Princess is unwell,” she said calmly. “Her Majesty noticed she was feeling faint and ordered that she be taken back to rest.”

Anya’s expression changed instantly. “Sick?” she asked, stepping closer to me. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

I offered her a small smile. “I didn’t want to worry you.”

She pressed the back of her hand against my arm, frowning. “You’re cold.”

The maid inclined her head slightly. “Please see that she rests properly. The Queen is concerned for her health.”

“I will,” Anya replied without hesitation. “I won’t leave her side.”

Once the maid walked away, Anya sighed and guided me gently. “You really are impossible,” she muttered, though her grip on my arm was careful. “Next time you feel unwell, you tell me first. No more disappearing.”

I nodded, letting her fuss over me as we walked. Yet even as she spoke, my mind drifted elsewhere. It has been doing so today. I've given up on trying to stop it.

Anya walked beside me in silence for a while, but I could feel her eyes on me. She always noticed when something was off. I should have known she wouldn’t let it go.

She suddenly stopped and turned to face me. “Is something wrong?”

I blinked, pulled out of my thoughts. “You’ve been lost in your head since yesterday,” she continued, her voice gentler now. “What’s going on?”

I opened my mouth to answer, but no words came out.

What was going on? I didn’t understand it myself.

My throat tightened, like there was something lodged there that refused to move no matter how deeply I swallowed. I knew one thing clearly, though, and that was what unsettled me the most.

I was upset. I've been upset since morning.

Upset that Atlas had barely acknowledged me. I didn’t know why it bothered me this much..I’d only asked how he was. That was it. A simple question. I hadn’t demanded anything, hadn’t crossed a line, hadn’t meant anything improper. And yet he had looked straight through me like I was nothing. Not even worth acknowledging.

I could still hear his voice in my head. As if last night had been some misunderstanding I’d imagined on my own. As if I was the one who had made it strange. Okay maybe I did but a little bit.

And then there was that look. The way he’d finally faced me, only to shut me up firmly.

You should focus on your marriage. Like I wanted to focus on him. Idiot.

The words sat heavy in my chest. Not because they were wrong, but because they felt like a reminder. Of where I belonged. Of where I didn’t.

I should have been annoyed. Offended. Angry. Instead, I just felt… small.

What frustrated me most was that I still wanted to be around him. Even after he’d made it clear he didn’t want my concern, didn’t want my presence, didn’t want me involved in whatever world he kept to himself.

That was the part I didn’t understand.

Why did his indifference hurt so much?

I lowered my gaze, avoiding Anya’s searching eyes. “I don’t know,” I admitted quietly. “I’m just… confused.”

She didn’t press me, but her hand slipped into mine, warm and steady.

“Whatever it is,” she said softly, “you don’t have to figure it out alone.”

I nodded, even though I wasn’t sure that was true. Because some feelings weren’t meant to be spoken aloud. And this one… frightened me the m

“What? No.” I rolled my eyes and subtly shifted away from him, though the movement felt pointless when he was already too close. “Clowns are annoying. That’s the reason.”

Liar.

The warmth radiating from him was… distracting. Annoyingly so. Like sitting too close to a fire you didn’t mean to approach but now couldn’t quite move away from. I could feel it along my arm, my shoulder, the side of my face. It was ridiculous. Heat wasn’t supposed to feel addictive.

“And,” I added quickly, because silence was becoming dangerous, “if my heart skips a beat, that means something is wrong with my health.”

He let out a quiet laugh, the kind that vibrated rather than sounded. “Ah. So you’re worried about your well-being.”

“Deeply,” I deadpanned.

“So thoughtful of you,” he said. “Most people would blame the person standing too close.”

I shot him a look. “Most people wouldn’t stand this close.”

“And yet,” he murmured, not moving an inch, “you haven’t told me to leave.”

I opened my mouth. I closed it. Then scoffed. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

He leaned back at last, just enough for the night air to rush in between us. I hated how noticeable the absence was.

“Careful, weeping fairy,” he said lightly. “You’re starting to sound less mad and more… conflicted.”

I frowned at the pond. “That’s worse,” I muttered.

Black clicked his tongue softly. “You talk a lot for someone who claims her day was boring.”

I huffed. “That’s because nothing interesting happens where I’m supposed to be.”

“And here?” he asked.

I glanced around the garden. The pond shimmered faintly, moonlight breaking on the surface like scattered secrets. The palace silent like a thought behind my consciousness.

“Here feels… stolen,” I admitted. “Like I’m not meant to exist here.”

“That makes two of us,” he said.

The words slipped out so easily that I turned to him, startled. His mask hid his face, but not the weight in his voice.

Before I could ask what he meant, a sound drifted through the garden. Footsteps.

Black stiffened instantly. One second relaxed, the next sharp and alert. “Someone’s coming,” he murmured.

My heart leapt straight into my throat. “I shouldn’t be here.”

“No,” he agreed calmly. “You shouldn’t.”

He stood and offered me his hand without looking at me, already scanning the shadows.

“For someone who isn’t supposed to be here,” he added dryly, “you’re very bad at staying unseen.”

I swallowed, then took his hand anyway. My heart slammed against my ribs the second Black’s hand closed around mine.

“This way,” he breathed, already pulling me along.
We slipped into the trimmed bushes lining the edge of the garden.

They weren’t wild or overgrown, just thick enough to hide us if we stayed low and still. Leaves brushed my arms, cool and scratchy, and before I could even think to protest, Black shifted us deeper, using his body to block the opening.

Too close. Far too close.

My mind went straight into panic mode. How was I supposed to explain this if we were caught? The Crown Princess tangled up with a masked man in the royal garden, at night, hidden in bushes. No amount of honesty would save me from that scandal. I was Elliott’s wife. Titles wouldn’t matter. Explanations wouldn’t matter.

I was doomed.

I was so busy spiraling that I didn’t realize how pressed I was against him until I tried to move. My elbow jerked back awkwardly, bumping straight into his ribs.

He sucked in a sharp breath, wincing. “Stay still,” he whispered harshly, his voice tight.

“I was just...” I started, but then the sound reached us.
Footsteps. Close. Too close.

I froze instantly, breath caught halfway in my chest. Voices followed, low murmurs, hurried and nervous. Whoever they were, they were definitely not meant to be here either.

I barely dared to blink.

Two figures came into view through the thin gaps in the bushes. A maid and a male servant. They glanced around quickly, like guilty children, before the servant grabbed her wrist and pulled her toward him.

And then....

My eyes widened.

He kissed her. Not a quick one. Not a shy one. It was heated. Hands gripping, bodies pressed together, mouths moving like they’d been waiting all night for this. Soft sounds filled the air, breaths and little noises that made my face burn.

Oh.

Oh no.

Behind me, I felt it. The slight shake of Black’s shoulders. Silent laughter. I wanted the ground to swallow me whole.

This was illegal.
This was happening a few steps away from me.

I leaned back just enough to whisper, barely moving my lips. “Do something.”

“What should I do?” he murmured back, sounding far too calm.

I knew then. I just knew. He was enjoying this.

I twisted my head slightly, glaring at him even though I couldn’t fully see his face. “You’re impossible,” I whispered.

His breath brushed my ear, calm and annoyingly confident. “Relax, weeping fairy. They’ll be gone soon.”

They weren’t.

The male servant suddenly pushed the maid back, her spine hitting the rough bark of a tree with a soft thud. His hands were already moving, fast and impatient, slipping under the maid's dress.

My eyes widened. Before I could stop myself, a small sound slipped out of me. A tiny, pathetic squeak.
The second it left my mouth, panic slammed into me.
I clapped a hand over my lips, heart crashing against my ribs. Too loud. That was too loud.

The maid froze.

She recoiled instantly, jerking away from him like she’d been burned, fumbling with her dress, smoothing her hair with shaking hands.

The male servant turned halfway, eyes narrowing as he stared toward the bushes.

“Did you hear that?” the maid whispered, her voice trembling. “You said no one was here”

“Of course,” he whispered back, though his voice lacked conviction, like he was convincing himself more than her. “Of course no one’s here.”

“Then what was that noise?”

My lungs burned. I didn’t dare breathe. I was sure I was about to faint. No. Worse. Die. Right here. In the bushes. With a masked man pressed behind me.

Behind me, Black shifted. “Oops,” he murmured.

I almost elbowed him again.

The servant hushed the maid and started walking slowly toward us, careful, suspicious, each step making my heart scream louder.

Then the maid grabbed his arm, her fear finally winning. “What are you doing?” she hissed, pulling him back. “Don’t.”

He glanced at her, distracted for just a second.

That was all Black needed.

A stone flew from the shadows, landing deeper in the bushes behind them with a sharp rustle.

The maid gasped, eyes going wide. “Let’s go,” she whispered urgently. “I don’t know what that was, but we should go. Now.”

The servant hesitated, clearly torn, his gaze still scanning the darkness. But the maid didn’t slow down, didn’t look back. She dragged him away, footsteps quick and uneven until their voices faded into nothing.

I exhaled shakily. “I think I just lost five years of my life.”

A soft chuckle. “You survived.”

“Barely,” I muttered.

I tried to move away, then realized his hand was still at my waist. When did it happen?

I stiffened.

He noticed immediately and stepped back, giving me space like nothing had happened. Like my heart hadn’t just done something strange and traitorous in my chest.

“Next time,” I said, smoothing my skirts and refusing to look at him, “warn me before dragging me into bushes.”

When we came out of our hiding spot, he let out a laugh. Not a quiet one. Not even a controlled one. It burst out of him, loud.
My eyes twitched. He was slowly getting on my nerves.

Before I could stop myself, my fist connected with his stomach.

It was sudden.

I froze.

He froze.

Black sobered up instantly, his gaze dropping to me, then to my hand still pressed against his stomach, then back to my face.

“Wow,” he said after a beat. “The weeping fairy does pack a punch.”

It was meant to be a joke. I knew that. Unfortunately for me, my fist was now screaming in pain.

It hadn’t hurt him at all. Not even a little. But my knuckles throbbed like I’d just punched a stone wall.

Great.

Embarrassment washed over me in waves. I’d gone through panic, fear, shock, and now this. All the stages, all at once.

To hide it, I snapped, “Deserved you.”

I rolled my eyes and turned away quickly, pretending I’d meant to do that, focusing back on the pond.

That was when my heart dropped straight to my stomach.