The kingdom plunged into mourning.
Black banners hung from every building. Every window. Every wall. Draped across the castle like a shroud.
The entire capital dressed in darkness to honor their fallen King. Murdered on his wedding night. Assassinated before he could produce an heir.
Selene stood in her chambers being dressed by servants. Mourning clothes. Black dress. Black veil to hide her face.
They handled her gently. Like she might break. Like the grieving widow needed special care.
If only they knew. If only they understood she was grieving something different than they thought.
She grieved the pain of pretending. The fear that Damian wouldn't wake. The terrible weight of maintaining this lie while the bond wound screamed.
She grieved being trapped in this role. Playing widow when she should be fighting. Pretending devastation when she was really plotting revenge.
