The Gilded Bride

Chapter 9: A Queen’s behaviour

That night, after King Demitri left her chambers, Princess Elowen cried herself to sleep.

Not loudly.

Not dramatically.

The tears simply came quietly while she sat curled against the edge of her bed, the fire dimming low beside her.

Lady Maria Dansdale will not trouble you anymore.

The words repeated endlessly in her head.

Maria had truly done it then.

Or at least,

Demitri believed she had.

Elowen pressed trembling fingers against her eyes.

Everything had become confusing.

Too confusing.

Demitri frightened her.

Yet he protected her.

He locked her away.

Yet watched whether she still wandered the gardens.

He spoke coldly one moment and carefully the next.

And now Maria,

the only person who had shown her kindness inside this palace,

was suddenly gone.

The room felt unbearably silent.

Elowen curled further into herself beneath the blankets.

Part of her wanted to go into the gardens that night.

Just once.

To breathe.

To think.

To escape the suffocating walls pressing closer every day.

Midnight had once become her only freedom.

But she did not dare.

Because she was still waiting.

Waiting for punishment.

Surely it was coming eventually.

Kings did not simply forgive disobedience.

Not kings like Demitri.

Not rulers feared across kingdoms.

And so she stayed inside.

Eyes fixed on the windows while moonlight slowly crossed the floor.

At some point, exhaustion finally overtook fear.

And Elowen fell asleep still fully clothed atop the blankets.

More from mental exhaustion than peace.

---

The next morning felt strange immediately.

The servants remained polite.

But something had changed.

Again.

When breakfast arrived, the maids avoided looking directly at her.

One nearly dropped the tea tray after meeting Elowen’s eyes.

Another bowed so deeply she almost looked frightened.

Elowen frowned faintly.

“What happened?”

Neither servant answered.

“No,nothing, Your Majesty.”

The answer came too quickly.

Too rehearsed.

And before Elowen could ask further, they hurried out of the room almost anxiously.

The behavior unsettled her deeply.

By afternoon, the atmosphere worsened.

The servants kept glancing toward her strangely.

Not coldly like before.

Almost guiltily.

As though ashamed of something.

Elowen did not understand.

Had Demitri punished them because of her?

The thought twisted painfully in her stomach.

By the following day,

her usual servants disappeared entirely.

At first, Elowen assumed they had been reassigned temporarily.

The palace was enormous after all.

Surely duties changed constantly.

But another day passed.

Then another.

And none of the familiar faces returned.

No older women who brought her tea every evening.

No quiet cook who sometimes left extra pastries with dinner.

And no Edna.

Elowen stared quietly at the unfamiliar maid arranging flowers beside the windows.

“You are new,” she said softly.

The girl bowed immediately.

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Elowen hesitated.

“Where is Edna?”

The servant visibly stiffened.

“I… do not know.”

A lie.

An obvious one.

But Elowen did not push further.

After the maid left, she sat alone beside the fireplace for a long time.

Edna had only been a servant girl.

Barely older than Elowen herself.

But she had smiled warmly whenever delivering books.

She once secretly brought extra blankets during a colder evening without being asked.

And once,

only once,

she had laughed softly at one of Elowen’s awkward attempts to bake pastries alone in the chamber kitchens.

It had been such a tiny thing.

But Elowen remembered it because kindness stayed memorable when one received so little of it.

Now Edna was gone too.

Like everyone else eventually became.

The realization settled heavily in her chest.

Perhaps she truly was cursed to remain alone wherever she went.

---

A week passed before Demitri visited again.

By now, Elowen had almost grown accustomed to his unannounced appearances.

Almost.

The knock still startled her.

Still made anxiety coil tightly beneath her ribs.

But she no longer froze in outright panic.

Only tension.

Only uncertainty.

The doors opened quietly.

And King Demitri entered.

Dressed entirely in black again, silver embroidery faintly catching candlelight along the sleeves of his coat.

His presence filled the room immediately.

Heavy.

Controlled.

Powerful.

Elowen lowered her book slowly.

“Your Majesty.”

Demitri nodded once in acknowledgment before approaching her sitting area.

He said nothing at first.

Instead, his gaze immediately settled on her arms.

The wounds had begun healing properly now. Most of the bruising faded. The cuts no longer looked angry and inflamed beneath fresh bandages.

Demitri noticed immediately.

Elowen noticed him noticing.

And silence stretched between them again.

Long.

Uncomfortable.

Demitri remained standing while she sat rigidly in her chair, hands clasped tightly together.

The king said nothing.

Elowen tried enduring it.

Truly.

But after several endless moments, anxiety finally overwhelmed her.

“What will my punishment be?”

The words escaped abruptly.

Demitri blinked once.

Elowen pressed forward nervously before courage disappeared.

“For leaving my chambers before.”

Still silence.

Then,

something strange flickered briefly across Demitri’s face.

Not anger.

Amusement.

A very small smirk tugged faintly at the corner of his mouth before disappearing almost immediately.

Elowen stared at him uncertainly.

“You are still thinking about that?” he asked calmly.

Her confusion deepened.

“Of course.”

Demitri tilted his head slightly.

“And what punishment would you prefer?”

Elowen froze.

“What?”

“If given the choice.”

The faint amusement returned to his eyes now.

“Would you rather receive a whipping?”

Elowen’s body went cold instantly.

“Or perhaps cold baths are more effective.”

The room blurred briefly around her.

Cold water.

Locked marble rooms.

Her mother’s voice telling servants not to let her out until she apologized properly.

Demitri continued casually, unaware of the storm unraveling inside her.

“Starvation is another common punishment.”

Three days.

Four once.

Elowen remembered the dizziness.

The shame of secretly stealing bread afterward because she could not endure hunger anymore.

“Or isolation,” Demitri added lightly. “Though I suppose that would hardly change anything for you.”

Elowen had gone completely still.

The amusement vanished from Demitri’s expression immediately.

Because suddenly,

she looked terrified.

Not nervous.

Not embarrassed.

Terrified.

Her breathing had become shallow. Fingers trembling faintly in her lap.

And then slowly,

she stood.

Before Demitri could react, Elowen lowered herself onto her knees before him.

Head bowed.

Eyes fixed downward.

Hands clenched tightly together.

“If that is what His Majesty decides,” she whispered shakily, “then I will comply.”

The room went dead silent.

Demitri stared at her in disbelief.

Something hot and furious surged instantly through his chest.

Not at her.

At whoever had taught her this.

Because that was not the reaction of a spoiled princess.

That was the reaction of someone who had already endured those punishments before.

Repeatedly.

The realization struck him violently.

Cold baths.

Starvation.

Whippings.

She had not reacted with fear of possibility.

She had reacted with memory.

Demitri’s expression darkened instantly.

“Stand up.”

Elowen flinched faintly.

But obeyed immediately.

Too quickly.

Still refusing to meet his eyes.

“Look at me.”

Slowly, hesitantly, she did.

Demitri’s anger sharpened further at the sight of genuine fear still lingering there.

“What exactly do you think this is?” he asked coldly.

Elowen blinked uncertainly.

“I…”

“You kneel like a servant awaiting execution.”

Her hands tightened together instinctively.

“You spoke of punishment,”

“And you assumed I intended to torture you?”

She went silent.

Which was answer enough.

Demitri exhaled sharply through his nose.

“You are the Queen of Delmatia.”

The words rang through the room firmly.

Elowen finally looked directly at him then.

And quietly asked,

“Am I?”

The question stunned him.

Not because of the words themselves.

But because she sounded genuinely uncertain.

As though no one had ever made her feel like one.

Demitri’s jaw tightened.

“You wear the crown.”

“That does not mean people see me as queen.”

The honesty in her voice unsettled him.

Demitri suddenly understood far too much all at once.

The fear.

The hesitation.

The constant waiting for punishment.

The inability to ask for help.

No one had ever treated her like royalty before.

Not truly.

And somehow that realization enraged him more than anything else tonight.

“You were never being punished,” he said flatly.

Elowen stared.

“You were injured. I confined you because you needed rest.”

Confusion flickered openly across her face now.

“As for your behavior,” he continued sharply, “you are expected to act like a queen. Not a frightened child awaiting discipline.”

The words struck harder than intended.

Elowen lowered her gaze again immediately.

Demitri instantly regretted the harshness.

Though he did not show it.

Silence settled once more.

Then finally, he stepped back toward the door.

“You will continue recovering.”

Elowen nodded quietly.

“And stop neglecting your health.”

Another nod.

Demitri turned to leave.

Then her voice stopped him.

“Your Majesty.”

He paused.

Elowen hesitated visibly before speaking again.

“What happened to the previous servants?”

Demitri looked back toward her slowly.

“You dislike the current staff?”

“No!” she answered quickly. “Everyone has been kind.”

Then softer,

“I just miss the others.”

Demitri stared at her.

Miss them?

The servants who abandoned her because of rumors?

The servants who neglected her care?

Elowen continued quietly,

“Especially Edna.”

Something twisted unexpectedly in Demitri’s chest again.

“She was very thoughtful.”

God.

The girl still defended them.

Even now.

Even after being isolated by them.

Even after being neglected while injured.

Who exactly had dared call her heartless like her father?

Demitri studied her carefully.

And for the first time since marrying her,

something dangerous began shifting inside him.

Not affection.

Not yet.

But the beginning of understanding.

Which was perhaps even more dangerous.

Then,

Elowen spoke again.

Tentatively.

“May I see Maria?”

The atmosphere shattered instantly.

Demitri’s expression turned glacial.

“No.”

The sharpness of the answer startled even her.

“She is never to approach you again.”

Elowen blinked in confusion.

“But,”

“I said no.”

His voice carried unmistakable warning now.

Elowen immediately fell silent.

Demitri’s jaw tightened sharply.

The mere thought of Maria near her again reignited his anger instantly.

Manipulative woman.

Obsessive woman.

And somehow Elowen still wanted to see her.

Still believed in her.

Too trusting.

Far too trusting.

Without another word, Demitri turned and strode toward the doors.

They opened immediately.

Then slammed shut behind him.

Leaving Elowen alone once more,

staring at the empty doorway with growing confusion over the king she still could not understand at all.