Night had long since fallen, and the walls of the chamber were lit only by the soft flicker of candlelight. Lydia sat at the edge of her bed, wrapped in silence. Her fingers rested in her lap, unmoving. The soft rustle of fabric and the quiet footsteps of her maids filled the room, but she barely noticed.
Her thoughts were a mess.
One of the maids gently tapped her shoulder. "Your Highness, it's time for your bath."
Lydia stood without a word, her limbs light, her head heavy. She moved like she was drifting — like her soul hadn't caught up with her body. The bath water was warm, scented faintly with rose petals. Steam curled into the air as the maids began their usual routine, undressing her and guiding her into the tub. The heat embraced her skin, but her heart remained cold and confused.
As they began to scrub her arms and shoulders gently, one maid spoke up with a small smile. "His Highness joined you for dinner today. You must be happy, Your Highness."
