I don't get out of bed the next day. Or the next. By the third day, I'm all but stir-crazy. Save Ethan, no one is allowed in our rooms—I haven't been able to bear company since the incident. I haven't spoken in who knows how long; my throat is still hoarse from crying. At first, I oscillated between emotions, my mood sometimes changing faster than I could process.

One minute, anger overtook me; the next, grief smothered it completely. One minute, I cursed myself for not seeing the signs earlier; the next, fear washed over me. If my maid was a traitor, who else could be working against us? Who in the castle can I truly trust?

I can mark a few names off the list without thought—Ethan; Nicole; Allie; Queen Vanessa; Mom. Those five I know without a doubt would never betray me. But anyone else in the castle could easily be a foe disguised as a friend. I shudder now, wrapping myself tighter in the blanket.

The slice on my cheek had stopped bleeding sometime in the night; an incessant throbbing is the only indicator that the injury still plagues me. When the knock sounds on our door, a soft voice follows it almost immediately. "It's just me, Laur."

I suck in a breath so hard it makes me cough; the tension slowly drains from my body. The door cracks open a minute later, Ethan's head poking through as he meets my gaze. I give him a wordless nod at his unspoken question. He shuts the door soundlessly behind him when he walks inside.

My heartbeat speeds up when he approaches the bed, and—as foolish as it sounds—I have to breathe deeply, remind myself that he's my husband, I love him, and that I'm safe with him. He notices the slight hesitance, then waits for my ok. It hits me right then how much the incident had shaken me and how my ability to trust anyone has disappeared completely.

With another deep breath, I nod again. Ethan cautiously sits on the edge of the bed, his beautiful eyes asking yet another silent question. This time, I answer it for him, gently placing my hand in his. Though I suck in a breath at the contact, I don't pull away.

We sit in silence for a few seconds before he speaks, his voice barely above a whisper. "Are you okay?"

I feel like I'm falling down an endless void of nothingness; my ability to feel anything has vanished. When I meet his eyes, his own softens, and I know he's scanning my face—noting the pallor of my skin, the red-rimmed emptiness of my eyes, the dried tear stains on my cheeks. 

I silently shake my head. He nods. Before he can speak again, a knock sounds on our door.

I give him a nod in response to his unspoken question. He gently squeezes my hand before rising from the bed and walking to the door. I hear low voices muffled by the wall, then footsteps as whoever's at the door walks into our suite. The voice, when it comes, is halting—tentative. "Laur? Honey, are you okay?"

I didn't know it then, but Ethan had also expressed my need for privacy to my mother, which is why she hadn't visited since the incident. When her face appears in my vision, lined with concern, something cracks inside me. I open my mouth to speak, but tears come instead.

The tears I've tried so hard to suppress well up from deep inside and course down my cheeks. Noting the shadows in my eyes, she moves closer to me, but doesn't touch me. "Oh, honey," Mom whispers. "I'm so, so sorry."

My tears aren't just from suppressing my emotions. They're also from the dam that has again cracked open inside me, where I shoved away every bad thing that had happened to me, hiding it away so it could never touch me again. A dam that had, unbeknownst to me, broken when Gwen revealed her betrayal. After everything I'd been through, I'd longed for another female companion whom I could be myself with. Gwen had been the answer to my unspoken pleas.

Having that trust breached so violently shook me to my core. It made me reevaluate everything—made my heart harden and me more cautious. I'm not the person I was when Gwen attacked me in our suite. That person is gone.

The word, when it comes, is broken. Tired. After who knows how long of not speaking, my voice is hoarse. I barely have the strength to lift my head from my mother's shoulder as my lips part, and even then, I have to will myself to speak. "Why?"

A knock on our suite door causes the three of us to jump. Ethan glances between Mom and me before rising to answer the door. Before he gets within a foot of the door, it suddenly booms open. A man (cloaked, hooded, dagger glinting in the light) storms inside, malice coming off him in waves.

Everything after that happens in slow motion—it's over in a blink, yet the memory will last forever. Faster than any of us can react (much like what had happened with Gwen), he lunges towards me, a growl slipping past his lips. I'm frozen, fear rooting me to the spot. Mom screams, but it's muffled, far away.

Ethan shouts, but his voice is also muffled. All I can see is the wicked grin on my father's face—all I can hear are his words from months ago. "'You weren't just using Lauren—you were breaking her.'"

And he did, I realize, as a hidden dagger appears in his hands. I can't even sleep peacefully without being haunted by my past, the trauma the king had deeply rooted in me.  "Haven't I suffered enough?" I cried, my voice emotionless. Numb.

Grasping my shoulder painfully, he puts his lips close to my ear, his laugh cruel and harsh. I can't stop the shudder that moves through my body, but I don't think he even notices. "Not even close. Your past haunts your present, yes—but now it's time to see how much."

My mouth is open before the thought even finishes crossing my mind. "N—" The word is cut off as a man emerges from the shadows, blade in hand. This time, I recognize him instantly.

The first thing I feel is fear, washing over me in waves and clutching my heart in an icy fist. Mom shouts again, her voice broken and ragged. "Stephen, no!" The final word is agonized, a drawn-out scream. Ethan yells something—my name?—but I can't make it out.

A flash of dark blue, a grunt, and a thud is all that my panicked brain can process. I don't even realize I'm shaking until Ethan is in front of me, face pale, eyes scanning me from head to toe—yet still not touching me. "Are you hurt?" The shock has taken over my body and mind, so I don't immediately notice him deliberately angling his head, trying to block whatever's behind him.

Whoever. Cream-colored flats catch my attention like icy daggers piercing my heart. I'd know those flats anywhere. Ethan's voice forces my eyes to his, gaze steady. "Don't look at her; look at me." He realizes his mistake the moment the word leaves his mouth. The color drains from his face as his eyes widen in horror. Her.

It's my turn to scream as I drop to my knees, the impact causing a jarring thud that resonates from head to toe. Mom's beautiful dress is soaked with blood, even more seeping from an unseen wound on her chest. I crawl towards her, my ankle barking in pain. The agony is distant, however—everything is foreign.

I know I must be crying, screaming, shouting her name—but I can't hear anything. Blood instantly soaks the hem of my dress, gushing over my hands as I place them on her chest. A glint of metal out of the corner of my eye has me biting back another scream; she must have pulled the dagger out immediately afterward.

My hands are still on Mom's chest, trying to staunch the blood flow, even though she hasn't moved since she hit the ground. My breaths come in short, panicked gasps.

"Mom?" Nicole's voice is shaking and broken. I can feel her sway behind me, yet she doesn't touch me.

"MOM!" Allie's wail cuts through the silence in my blood, bones, and heart. It's the worst sound I've ever heard in my entire life.

"We need to get them out of here." Ethan's voice is far away, muted; I don't know to whom the words are directed.

I don't move from where I'm crouched beside her prone body. "Lauren." His voice is gentle, but there's an undercurrent of shock. Grief.

When guards approach her body, faces lined with thinly-concealed grief, I must bite back the scream that claws its way up my throat. I want to shout at them, prevent them from getting close enough to touch her.

But I can't. Allie and Nic surround me, faces pale and tear-stained. Neither of them try to touch me; they understand my unspoken pleas without me even having to open my mouth.

The hours, minutes, and seconds after that are a blur. I remember nothing beyond Allie and Nic on either side of me and us staring at our mother's body. Somehow, I end up back in our suite. Violent shivers wrack my body as I cross the threshold, but I don't feel anything. My knees immediately buckle, but I catch myself against the doorframe.

"I'm here, Laur. I'm so, so sorry, honey." Ethan's voice is soft, filled with grief.

My worst nightmare has come true. The king and my father have done what no one else has managed. They've broken me irreparably. Even Gwen's betrayal hadn't had this effect on me.

"Mom," I sob, my voice hoarse from crying and screaming.

Hours later, I'm in bed, Ethan asleep beside me. Allie and Nic are in chairs from our sitting room beside our bed. Ethan had either sent his mother a message, or she'd heard it through other means, but she was at my side seconds after I'd collapsed on the floor.

Exchanging a glance with Ethan, she didn't touch me, but her gaze met mine, her eyes filled with grief and shock. "Lauren." Her voice had broken as she swiped a tear that had escaped her eye.

I don't expect to be able to sleep now, but the combination of grief, shock, and numbness creates a pull that's impossible to resist. The last thing I'm aware of is Ethan's strong arms encircling my body—but never touching me—as the heavy darkness drags me under.

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