It has been two days since her father ordered her confinement. Aveloria sat by the window in her chambers, her eyes blankly fixed on the gardens below. The guards stood outside her door, their presence a constant reminder of her confinement. The palace no longer felt like home. The walls pressed in on her, and the room was too quiet. She'd tried sending words to her father, asking him to grant her a presence, but he refused to see her again after the confrontation.
She wanted to believe he was simply angry, that his words had come from frustration, but the image of his eyes flickering black haunted her. Something was wrong. Deeply wrong. But she had no proof, and no one would listen to her.
