The Dark Trinity

Chapter 3

The bath chamber was a masterpiece of indulgent luxury, a temple to vanity and extravagance. Soft sunlight filtered through stained-glass windows, throwing muted shades of blue and gold onto the polished marble floors.

The walls, adorned with delicate gold-leafed carvings, reflected a quiet opulence that made the room both grand and intimate.

At the center of the room sat a massive tub carved from alabaster, its surface gleaming under the soft candlelight.

The water inside was scented with rose petals, lavender, and a hint of sandalwood, the mingling fragrances creating an intoxicating aroma that clung to the humid air. Steam rose lazily, curling toward the high, vaulted ceiling, where a crystal chandelier shimmered faintly

Two maids hovered by her side, their movements precise and practiced. One poured warm water over Julian's hair, her hands trembling slightly as she combed through the golden strands with an ivory comb.

The other maid knelt by the side of the tub, washing the queen's legs with soft cloths soaked in scented oils.

The queen closed her eyes, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "Be gentle, Anna," she murmured to the maid tending her hair, her voice smooth yet carrying an undercurrent of command.

"Yes your majesty," Anna replied, bowing her head even as her fingers grew steadier.

"Is the water warm enough for you, Your Majesty?" one maid asked timidly, her head bowed.

Julian didn't bother to answer, her focus entirely on her reflection in a handheld mirror she had demanded moments earlier.

Once Julian had had her
fill of the bath, she rose from the water, her movements deliberate and graceful. Her hair clung to her back like a golden waterfall, and the maids rushed to drape a plush towel around her shoulders.

Her gaze was cool as she observed their haste, the faintest smirk playing at the corner of her lips.

They dressed her in an elegant gown, a deep emerald green that hugged her figure and flared at the bottom. The bodice was adorned with intricate gold embroidery, and the sleeves were sheer, offering a tantalizing glimpse of skin beneath.

As one maid began braiding her hair into an intricate style befitting for her station, Julian dismissed the others with a sharp wave of her hand.

Julian opened her eyes, glancing toward the ornate mirror that hung on the wall. The candlelight flickered across its surface, reflecting a vision of perfection.

Her beauty, though no longer that of a young maiden.was undeniable. High cheekbones, a slender nose, and piercing blue eyes framed by dark lashes gave her an aura. But perfection was not enough.

She wanted dominance, reverence, and above all, the crown-permanently.

When she had married the late king, her sister's husband, it had been a calculated move. It didn't matter that her sister's death had been shrouded in whispers of treachery; Julian had seized the opportunity to climb to the throne.

Now, with Malcolm as king, her position was once again in jeopardy.

"All of you, leave," she commanded, her tone laced with quiet authority.

The maids froze, exchanging nervous glances before scurrying from the room. Only Margaret remained, the queen's most trusted attendant.

Margaret was older than the others, her movements slower but her loyalty unwavering. She had been with Julian for years and understood her better than anyone.

Julian sat before the mirror as Margaret began braiding her hair, her fingers weaving golden strands with precision.

"Margaret," Julian said softly, her eyes fixed on her reflection. "Am I still beautiful?"