Valeria couldn't shake off Gloria's words. After their conversation, she fell silent, lost in a tangle of thoughts that weighed heavily on her mind. The world around her blurred, as though she were moving through a fog, her senses dulled by the gravity of what lay before her. She needed time—time to process, to reflect, to make a decision that would shape the rest of her life. Gloria, sensing her turmoil, also remained quiet, continuing to brush Valeria's hair in soothing, rhythmic strokes until Beth returned, carrying a simple blue gown as requested.
Valeria didn't comment on the gown, but a flicker of surprise stirred within her. The king had actually allowed it. Part of her wanted to ask what he had said to grant her this small mercy, but even the thought of speaking his name filled her with dread, as if uttering it might somehow summon him. So, she held her silence, burying her curiosity beneath layers of caution and fear, still lost in contemplation as the maids helped her dress. They left her alone, retreating quietly as if sensing she needed solitude.
She ate her breakfast—eggs, vegetables, and a bowl of grapes—in the same contemplative silence. After finishing the eggs, she picked up the bowl and moved over to the window. It was only now, in this quiet moment, that she truly noticed the beauty of the view outside. From her window, she could see the forest stretching beyond the palace walls, a vast sea of autumn colors. In the distance, mountains rose proudly, their snow-capped peaks gleaming in the morning light. Birds soared across the sky, and the trees below blazed with shades of red and orange, their leaves drifting to the ground like whispers of freedom.
She felt a bittersweet pang as she looked out. Once, in what felt like another life, she would have ridden through woods like these, her hair flying behind her, her heart racing with the thrill of freedom. Memories of hunting with her father surfaced, of laughter, of wind and earth and boundless skies. That time felt like a lifetime ago, a part of herself that was almost too painful to remember. But looking at the vastness outside, she felt that ache return—the yearning to break free, to reclaim the life she had lost.
Valeria sat by the window for hours, letting the colors of the forest and the open sky soothe her spirit. It was a small comfort, a reminder that beauty and freedom still existed beyond these walls, untouched by the darkness of her present. Somewhere beyond this prison, life continued, vibrant and untamed. Everything was not lost; she only needed to reach it, to break free of these chains and walk beyond those walls.
But it wasn't that simple. Her door was locked, heavily guarded, and even if she somehow managed to slip past, how far could she possibly go? She forced herself to push down the rising doubt. Thinking like that was as good as surrender. If she let herself sink into despair, if she resigned herself to her fate, she would be nothing more than a puppet in the king's hands—a docile wife, a breeding machine, stripped of her own will and freedom. The image filled her with a sickening dread, a cold wave of revulsion. She could imagine herself years from now, hollow and defeated, her spirit crushed, her life wasted in servitude to a man she despised.
Gloria's words echoed again in her mind, rekindling a small flame of defiance within her. She thought of Gloria's daughter, of all the other women whose lives might be shattered by men who saw them as nothing more than tools, possessions to be used and discarded. If she could somehow survive, perhaps she could be more than just a victim—perhaps she could be an example, a symbol of resistance. She could show them that even in the face of tyranny, one could still choose to fight.
She had believed she was trapped, that she had no choice. But that wasn't true, was it? She still had choices, however limited they might be. Surrendering—giving up—would be the only true defeat. As long as she held onto her will, as long as she refused to break, she would remain her own. She would fight for her freedom, even if it took months, years, or even decades. This room might be her prison, but it would never be her grave. She would not be broken.
When Gloria and Beth returned to prepare her for the night, Valeria neither cried nor resisted. She let them bathe her in scented oils, allowed them to dress her in the sheer, revealing nightgown meant to strip her of her dignity. But they could never strip her of her will. Beneath her calm exterior, her eyes blazed with a fierce, unyielding resolve. She met Gloria's gaze as they finished, and she caught the faintest hint of a smile on the maid's lips—a look of quiet pride, a recognition of the strength that now burned within her. Gloria said nothing as she and Beth exited the room, but Valeria felt her support in that silent acknowledgment.
As night fell, Valeria sat on her bed, hugging her knees to her chest, her gaze fixed on the door. She didn't know what might happen between her and the king if he came tonight, but whatever he had planned, she was prepared to face it. Fear simmered beneath her determination, a constant, throbbing undercurrent, but she refused to let it control her. She would face whatever awaited her, and she would not yield.
The room was silent, save for the steady ticking of the clock and the faint sounds of the guards shifting outside her door. She waited, her muscles tense, her heartbeat a steady, defiant drumbeat in her chest. She felt the minutes stretch into hours, each one an eternity of anticipation and dread. Yet, as dawn's first light crept into the room, coloring the walls with soft hues of morning, confusion and relief flooded her.
He hadn't come.
The king had spared her that night, for reasons she couldn't begin to fathom. She didn't know why, and she wasn't about to question it. This reprieve felt like a small gift, a token from the universe in acknowledgment of the courage she had summoned, the choice she had made not to yield. Exhausted but strangely at peace, she lay back as the sunlight filled her room, her resolve a steady, unbroken flame within her.
At last, she drifted into sleep, her spirit unyielding, her mind filled with the silent promise of her own strength. No matter what lay ahead, she knew one thing: she would not be broken.