The queen dowager's sharp eyes narrowed the moment Liora attempted a curtsy. It was clumsy, her trembling legs barely supporting her as she bowed too low, then corrected herself awkwardly. The queen's lips pressed into a thin line as her gaze moved to the bruises on Liora's hands, faint purples and greens marking her skin like ugly stains.
The queen dowager wrinkled her nose, distaste apparent. She was the epitome of perfection, her gown immaculate, the deep sapphire fabric shimmering with embroidery so fine it seemed woven from moonlight. Not one strand of silver hair was askew, and her gloved hands clasped elegantly before her. She was sophisticated, but that kind of sophistication weighed heavy with disdain for anything less than spotless refinement.
"What is your name, girl?" the queen dowager asked, her voice clipped and sharp.
Liora blinked, startled, then lowered her gaze, her voice trembling as she replied.
"L-Liora, Your Majesty."
The queen dowager leaned her head on one side, her eyes unreadable as they flashed over Liora and inspected every detail. From her faded hem to her scuffed shoes and trembling hands, nothing escaped her notice. She nodded slowly, the pursed lips filing away every flaw. She turned her attention from Liora to the uncle. "Tell me about her."
Liora's uncle straightened up a little, his voice unstable but compliant. "Her name is Liora Miral, born on the eighth day of the third month, eighteen years of age. Her mother, Lady Miral, was "
"Details, not history," the queen dowager said brusquely, dismissing his words with a wave of her hand.
"Yes, of course," he stuttered. "She is unmarried, literate in the minimum letters and manners, and literate in the most basic forms of embroidery. She suffers from no illness or bodily infirmity, save for..." He paused, his eyes flicking toward the bruising on her hands before he quickly looked away. "She is... qualified for the position."
An attendant in the room wrote down every word, the scratching of the quill filling the heavy silence.
The queen dowager raised a perfectly arched brow. "Suitable," she repeated, her tone dripping with skepticism. Her gaze lingered on Liora for another long moment before she turned to one of the women standing by the door. "Take her inside. Check her thoroughly."
Two attendants stepped forward, their expressions blank but their grips firm as they took hold of Liora's arms.
Come along, miss," one of them said softly but firmly, pulling her toward the door.
Liora hesitated, her feet planted firmly on the polished floor. "Wait… Please, wait."
The attendants didn't stop, their hands tightening as they began pulling her forward. Panic swelled in Liora's chest, and she turned to her uncle, her voice rising in desperation.
"Uncle! Why… Why do I have to do this? What is happening to me?"
The queen dowager said nothing, her cold stare on Liora's outburst, but before her uncle could stutter out a reply, a deep, measured voice boomed from the far end of the hall.
"Because," the voice said, cool and unyielding, "you are being sold to the royals."
Liora froze, the words cutting her like a blade. Her breath caught as her eyes flicked toward the source of the voice, but she could not see who had spoken. The attendants hauled her again, the grip like iron. Her uncle didn't look at her at all; his face was a mask of guilt and shame.
Tears streamed down Liora's face as she let herself be taken away, her legs moving on autopilot while her mind screamed in protest.
Sold.
She was being sold.
The queen dowager watched her go, a mask of coldness and unreadability on her face. When the doors closed on Liora, she turned to the attendant with the ledger. "Write down every flaw. The prince will suffer no surprises."
The scratching of the quill began again, and the queen dowager motioned to Liora's uncle to follow her into the next room. "Now," she said, her voice sharp and commanding, "let us discuss the rest of the arrangements."
Inside the room, Liora wept aloud. Her chest heaved, and her body twisted as she squirmed under the insistent hands of the maids. She raised her feeble, trembling hands to try to hide her body behind them. She backed into the wall when she was pushed.
"Away!" she screamed. "Don't touch me!."
"Miss, calm down," one of the maids said, her tone firm but not unkind. "We're only following orders."
"I don't need to be checked!" Liora shouted, her voice breaking. "I'm not some animal for sale!"
The maids exchanged uneasy glances but didn't relent. "This isn't up to you," one of them said, stepping closer. "The queen dowager has commanded it. We must ensure..."
I don't care!" Liora interrupted, her tears streaming down her face. "Let me go!"
She struck at the maids with a lashing blow that knocked over a tray of neat towels, the linens spilling in all directions. They tried to hold her again, but Liora squirmed and fought as if her desperation was the product of plain humiliation and terror. Her foot skidded on the marble floor, and she fell back, gasping with the shock.
In her struggle to regain balance, her thrashing hand pushed one of the maids, who stumbled and fell sideways.
It happened in a moment.
The maid fell into the brass basin of boiling water that had been carried into the room, her scream cutting through the air as the hot liquid splashed over her arms and legs. The crash of the metal basin hitting the floor resonated through the room as the maid shrieked in pain and the other attendant gasped.
Liora froze, her heart pounding in her chest. Her wide, tear-filled eyes darted to the maid writhing on the floor, clutching her reddened skin, and then to the other attendant, whose expression shifted from shock to anger.
"You clumsy girl!" the uninjured maid shouted, rushing to her colleague's side. "Do you have any idea what you've done?"
I didn't mean to." Liora stuttered, her voice little more than a whisper.
The hurt maid groaned, her face pale and contorted in pain as the other attendant tried to help her.
Liora's legs gave way beneath her, and she sank to the floor, her hands trembling as she pressed them to her face. She knew what the hot water was for...she wasn't a child who could be lied to about such things. They were going to inspect her body as if she were nothing more than goods to be appraised, stripping her of the last shred of dignity she had left.
And now she had caused a scene. A humiliating, irreparable scene.
The door burst open, and a steward stepped inside, his stern expression deepening as he took in the sight of the overturned basin, the injured maid, and Liora trembling on the floor.
"What is going on here?" he demanded, his voice slicing through the tension like a blade.
The maid, unharmed, stood up, and her face flushed with annoyance. "The girl put up a fight against us, and now this! Look at what she has done—she's burned Leina with hot water!"
The steward's keen eyes flicked to Liora, who lay curled on the floor, her tear-streaked face hidden behind her hands. "Enough of this nonsense," he barked. "Get her cleaned and ready at once. The queen dowager won't tolerate further delays.
The injured maid was carefully helped out of the room by another attendant who had rushed in, leaving the steward and the remaining maid with Liora.
The steward crouched beside her, his voice low and cutting. "You think this little display will save you, girl? You've only made things worse for yourself."
Liora shook her head, her voice breaking. "Please… Please don't do this."
He stood up, pointing to the maid. "Get her up. If she resists again, call for the guards.
Liora felt the maid's hands grasp her arms, firm and unyielding, and this time, she didn't struggle. Her spirit felt as though it had been wrung dry, leaving her hollow and broken. As she was dragged to her feet, her legs wobbled, and her eyes stayed fixed on the floor.
Inside, humiliation churned with helpless rage. She had no voice here, no power to stop what was happening. All she could do was endure it, though every moment of it felt like a blade carving into her very soul.