Golden Hour | Mark Lee

7

She didn't wait for an answer, digging her sharp nails into your arm until you were sure they drew blood, dragging across the courtyard and away from Jisung. She dragged you through the castle, pulling you roughly into a closed room and slamming the heavy door closed behind you. She backed you into a chair, and you fell back, until she was looming over you, her once beautiful face twisted into an angry snarl.

"I heard something interesting concerning you and the prince from one of my servants. From the night of the spring ball, no less." she snarled.

You gulped, the lump in your throat rapidly rising. "How...?"

She sat back in the armchair across from you, laughing coldly. "All it takes is a slip of the tongue, dear. It doesn't matter how long it takes for rumors to resurface. Just who hears them."

She leaned forward, her eyes gleaming dangerously. "I don't hate you, girl. But you're mistaken if you think I won't do anything to keep my family safe. You've been proving yourself to be more of a threat that an asset to my family's safety. You'd do best to stop things before they get too far."

You took a shaky breath, willing yourself to look the queen in her eyes. "I promise, Your Majesty. Nothing has happened since then. Mark... he realizes his responsibility to the kingdom."

The queen leaned back, a small smile twisting itself onto her face. "I'm glad to hear that. Let's keep it that way, alright?"

You nodded, gulping, and the queen swept herself from the chair, disappearing out of the room in a graceful flash.

As soon as she was gone, you let go of the breath you'd been holding, pressing a shaking hand to your racing heart, desperately trying to calm yourself. The queen had always frightened you. Unlike the king, her smiles had always seemed forced, insincere, a hidden plan lurking behind her dark eyes. You remembered the times she visited you when you were young, a stiff hand alighting on your small shoulders, sharp nails trailing down the skin of your neck as she interrogated your dreams.

You stood up, walking to the wooden table stationed against the cracked stone wall, leaning your weight on it as you caught your breath, your heart still hammering beneath your chest. A jade vase lay on the table, a single uncut rose resting against its walls. It was dark red and vibrant against the white light filtering through the window. You brought your finger up to trace its petals, cupping the flower as you leaned to inhale its scent.

A sharp pain in your finger caused you to jolt back, jerking your hand from the rose. A drop of blood welled at your finger, before dropping to the ground.

The blood stained the stone the same shade of red as the rose, and you found yourself entranced by its deep color as it dripped from the broken skin of your finger.

Snapping yourself out of it, you wiped the blood off on the fabric of your dress, the brown shades melting with the crimson tones.

Gathering your strength, you left the room, pushing the queen's words to the back of your mind. You went to the first person you could thing of-your mother. She was where you thought she'd be, slaving away at the counter in the infirmary. It was empty once again, the wars that had once plagued your country soothed away by the king's gentle hand decades ago. She smiled at you, beckoning you to come over with her free hand.