CHAPTER 304: DIGNITY?

The first time my phone alarm rang out, I was too weak to even acknowledge it, too weak to even tap the snooze button. My body sank deeper into the warmth of the sheets, my limbs heavy, my mind sluggish, unwilling to yield to the shrill call.

The second time, I burrowed deeper into Raul’s embrace—Raul, who had sneaked into my room minutes after my family had left. His chest was steady against my back, his arm lazily thrown across me, the faint rise and fall of his breathing a dangerous lullaby that coaxed me to ignore the world outside.

The third time, I would have maybe thrown the phone to the farthest corner of the room, but a knock sounded on my door, breaking the consideration to pieces.

I was late for my meeting with the Queen.

I raised my head, groggy with sleep, and searched with eyes closed, my hand fumbling across the sheets for my phone. When I found it, I lifted it closer to my face, my eyes clearing somewhat, my head becoming still when I noted the time.

5:30 a.m.

Shit! I should have been with the Queen at 4 a.m. That was the time we had agreed on before parting ways the previous day.

Cussing softly, I started to get out of the bed, but Raul’s hand curved around my midriff and held me tighter to himself.

"Raul..." I called out lightly, tapping his arm. "You have to let me go."

Yet he wouldn’t budge, so I slapped him with magic—one that singed his cheek just enough to bolt him upright like a dead man jolted to life with a defibrillator.

"What the hell, Sage!" His voice cracked in disbelief as his hand flew to his face.

I shrugged and got out of the bed. "I’m already late for the morning meeting with your mom, and you wouldn’t let me go. That left me no choice..."

He said nothing, only palming his cheek with one hand and staring at me with unreadable emotions flashing across his eyes. The chief? Disbelief.

Was the slap too hard? It was just a minuscule magic.

"You should head to your room," I said, already forgetting the moment, already going into the bathroom without checking who was knocking.

It was a servant, I knew. There was no need to waste the precious time I had checking in with the latter. It would be needed for a hasty bath.

But when I came out from the bathroom, Raul was still on the bed, still in the same position.

I sighed, going to my wardrobe. "You are still here? What are you waiting for?"

"You don’t treat me well, Sage. And I don’t like that. I am not Adam or his brothers. I didn’t drive you to almost death."

My hands paused their activities of looking for a comfortable cloth. "Get out."

"And if I don’t?"

Raul being hotheaded? Was it because we were in the palace? Did he think that I wouldn’t treat his misdemeanor because of it, because here I was his bride-to-be, meant to accord some level of respect to him?

"If you don’t, I will break the engagement."

He scoffed and got out of the bed. "You won’t, because you need it for the revenge you have been concocting in your head for six years."

I chuckled, crazily, finally turning to meet his sad gaze—sadness that almost washed my anger away. "You really think that? Do you want to test it out?"

He sighed, looking away when I let the towel drop to the ground.

What? Now he couldn’t behold the nakedness that drove him crazy with need?

"I just wish you will love me, Sage. I really have no qualms about being used as a tool, as a means to an end, but at least accord me some respect, some dignity."

Another tired sigh, and he started toward the door to my surprise.

"I am sorry. And you are right." I said, hands on my waist.

He stopped walking, shifted on his feet, and turned around finally. "Do you mean that, or you are just saying what you think I want to hear..."

Did it matter? Just take the apology and let everything go.

"Yes. It’s the truth."

He smiled, his steps hurried as he covered the distance between us.

Tada boy.

He lifted me from the floor, our laughs mixing together, and carried me back into the bathroom.

Well, the Queen could wait another hour, her son was a hungry lion after all.

–

Moments later I was ushered into the palace.

The outer court spread out before me like a painting drawn to intimidate. Tall marble columns lined the entrance, gleaming faintly; columns which bore carvings of winged beasts, their eyes set with stones that caught stray light and sparkled like watchful stars.

The air was crisp and faintly scented with incense, a deliberate attempt to mask the earthy tang of the guards who patrolled the grounds.

I noticed the servants moving about the outer court quietly, some carrying baskets of fruit, others jugs of wine, others buckets of water still steaming from the kitchens.

Their gazes slid toward me, quick, sharp, and then away, as if they dared not linger on my face. Some whispered as they passed, their words too hushed to catch, but the ripple of curiosity followed me like a cloak.

Crossing the outer court, I reached the great bronze doors that separated it from the inner court. The doors were massive, etched with runes that pulsed faintly in the dim light, old magic woven into metal.

Two guards stood on either side, spears crossed until I approached. Their eyes flicked to me, then to each other, and after a silent exchange, they stepped aside, the doors opening with a deep groan.

The inner court was warmer, richer, the scent of roses and sandalwood wrapping around me immediately. Here the marble floor gleamed brighter, streaked with veins of gold that caught the lantern flames and scattered them in shards of light.

A fountain stood at the center, its waters cascading down from the mouth of a lion carved in white stone, splashing into a pool where lily pads floated lazily. The sound of the water was soothing, but also deceptive—covering hushed conversations at the corners of the hall.

Nobles were present even at this hour, their cloaks heavy with jewels, their eyes sharp as they took in my arrival. Some pretended disinterest, while others let their gazes linger, measuring, calculating.

I walked on, however, toward the dais, my steps echoing lightly, my hands brushing against the soft folds of my robe. Servants bowed as I passed, though their faces were unreadable masks of obedience.

It was then that a guard stepped forward, armored in gold-plated steel, his face half-hidden beneath a crested helm. He thumped the butt of his spear against the floor, the sound sharp enough to still some of the murmurs around us.

"The Queen will meet you in her chamber," he said, his voice deep and steady.