Whispers had slithered around the castle like poisonous vipers, sparked by Anya's disobedience—a spark in dry tinder. Their illicit love tale was no longer hidden—the furtive looks in the Sunlit Garden, the stolen touches under the dusk curtain.
A summons arrived one frosty morning, Anya's hand shaking in sharp contrast to the royal seal. There, in his royal room, which stank of cold stone and even colder judgment, lay the King waiting for her. Her heart pounded on her chest, a furious rhythm against the impending quiet.
Tension hummed in the air as Anya stepped into the throne room. The King, her father, was perched on his massive throne, a mask of tremendous rage covering his face. Next to him was Anya's stepmother, Queen Elara, a woman whose eyes were never bright with a grin. Anya held her chin up, smothering the lump in her throat, her legs shaking slightly.
The King's voice roared through the enormous walls: "Princess Anya, the whispers that reach my ears paint a most disturbing picture." His icy, penetrating eyes swept across her face. Anya matched his look, her voice calm in spite of the growing terror.
Claimantly ignorant, she said, "What whispers, Your Majesty?"
The Queen, ever the viper, slithered forward. With a voice brimming with sugarcoated sweetness, she murmured, "Whispers of a most inappropriate nature, Your Highness." "Whispers of stolen moments with a guard, a man far beneath your station."
Anya grew enraged. She said, startlingly strong, "My station, Your Majesty, does not dictate the affections of my heart."
A gasp sounded among the assembled court officials. They had never seen Anya resist the Queen and the sheer sense of power that hung over the castle. The king's expression twisted with fury.
He bellowed, "Silence!" and the room became silent. He inclined forward, staring intently into Anya's eyes. "This attachment you've formed with the captain is a betrayal of your duty, a stain on the royal family's honor."
Anya maintained her position and spoke without faltering. It is my responsibility, Your Majesty, to never wed a guy I do not love. A true king recognizes that love can be a source of strength rather than weakness and that it is my obligation to my people.
The king's rage became unbearable. His fist struck his throne's armrest, sending shockwaves around the room. "You dare speak of love, a pampered princess who has never known hardship?"
Anya's eyes were flaming with fury as she straightened her shoulders. "Even though I've never experienced adversity, I understand the distinction between responsibility and a golden cage. Furthermore, I won't play along with your political schemes!"
Sensing her chance, the Queen approached the King, her voice a hiss of hatred. Maybe a flashback to her... A correction of misdirected attachments is necessary."
The Queen gave a series of orders while Anya looked on in fear. With terrifying clarity, guards were deployed. Anya had a sinking sensation in her stomach as she realized this was more than simply a rebuke for her disobedience. It was a warning, a terrifying reminder of the authority they had over her life and the life of the man she loved.
As the chapter comes to a conclusion, Anya faces a horrifying realization: her disobedience has endangered not just her future but also Kael's life.