Zsófia sneered as they were both led away. ‘Enjoy the title while it lasts. You’ll fall, just like Suri and Shiloh, wherever thefokkshe is.’
‘Be warned, your uncle will get that price on your head, come rain or shine,’ Sylvana murmured, throwing a final salvo over her shoulder.
Saba didn’t respond. Her gaze followed their exit, her face impassive despite the simmering anger that stirred within her.
Alone once again, she exhaled, the tension in her body unwinding just a fraction. Her head pounded, the events of the day catching up with her.
With a sigh, she picked up her robe from a chair close by, wrapped it around her, and headed back inside.
She ascended the stairs, the silk of her gown whispering against the tiled floor as she made her way to her private quarters.
This home, regardless of its emptiness, was her only sanctuary, and she sighed in relief at being able to relax finally.
Her feet flew over the smooth marble floors as she proceeded toward her four-poster bed, slipping under its draped canopies.
As she dropped onto the covers, she let out a prolonged breath.
Moments later, she slid between the cool sheets, thoughts already drifting.
She didn’t have time to worry about Sylvana’s threats or the whispers.
Tomorrow might bring its battles, but tonight, she deserved to rest.
Before her eyes closed, she whispered a sacred prayer, beseeching the Path of Light Within.
The ideology taught that every person possessed an internal illumination that could be nurtured through the right actions, mindfulness, and compassion.
She prayed that Mak would soon find the heart to forgive her.
Since the sacred inking ceremony, Saba spent the majority of herdays alone, in silence.
She made her food, washed her laundry, and stayed indoors, unable to face the wider world and life on the massive dreadnought.
Miral catered to her needs, sending provisions and even visiting her every other day to ensure Saba was doing well in Mak’s home.
Her husband, however, was MIA.
Most of the time, he left early and came back late, and sightings of him were scarce.
He didn’t speak to her, not even to greet her after two days of unexplained absence. Not that he owed his unwanted wife any explanation.
Even while she couldn’t see him, his quiet, simmering resentment surged like a storm building beneath the surface.
One day, however, they bumped into each other at the landing.
Saba, on her way to lunch, assumed Mak was returning from his repast.
He didn’t say a word. His body language did all the talking.
As he passed, his stride was quick and purposeful, as if he couldn’t bear to slow down in her presence.
His broad shoulders stiffened, and his eyes narrowed, not even flicking in her direction. He never stopped, never acknowledged her.
To him, she was a ghost, a nuisance that haunted the corners of his world. She didn’t belong here, and he ensured she knew it.
His silence was louder than any insult hurled.
The way he ignored her and his jaw tightened said it all.
