Afternoon sunlight streamed through the stained-glass windows, casting kaleidoscopic colors across the hem of Lia's dress. She sat quietly at the table, her gaze resting on the Crown of Startears, her expression distant. Since Cyrus had brought it to her, it had been left there—untouched, forgotten.
The door creaked open softly.
A pair of gilded heels stepped over the carpet in a whisper of silk. Vera Catherine entered, dressed in a pale blue lace gown, a violet crystal brooch gleaming on her chest, a polished smile on her face.
"Miss Lia," she said gently, her voice as composed and delicate as always.
Lia rose and gave a small nod.
Vera walked slowly closer. Her smile faltered—and then vanished completely. Her eyes turned cold as frost, lips curving into a superior, scornful smirk.
"I believe the heirloom the prince gave you... should be returned to me, don't you think?"
Lia blinked, confused.
Vera circled her leisurely, her gaze dropping to the Crown of Startears resting on the table. "This crown," she said, voice like ice over steel, "is a symbol of the future queen. And you? You're nothing. What makes you think you deserve it?"
Lia flinched. Her fingers clutched tightly at her skirt.
"Don't be fooled into thinking Cyrus truly cares about you," Vera said, voice dropping to a cruel whisper near Lia's ear. "Who has been with him these past three days? Me. He drinks tea with me, strolls the gardens, trains with the sword. One cough, and he calls the royal physician. And you? You're just a pet he remembers when he's feeling kind."
A tremor passed through Lia's eyes. Her lips lost all color.
"He didn't come see you because I was ill," Vera continued with a shrug, mockery lacing her words. "He spent the whole night in my chambers, wouldn't leave my side. Said he couldn't rest until he saw me well."
Lia's hands trembled. Tears brimmed in her eyes.
Vera smiled. "Poor little mute girl. Can't even defend yourself. All you can do is wait and cry. Must be agonizing, isn't it?"
She pointed to the crown box. "Be sensible. Give it back. I don't want to waste my time on you."
Lia stood still for a moment—then, without a word, she stepped forward. Her eyes lingered on the crown, that glittering royal gem.
And then, she grabbed it—and hurled it at Vera with all her strength.
Clang!
The crown sliced through the air, struck the wall after grazing Vera's brow, and fell with a clatter.
Vera shrieked, clutching her forehead, and staggered out of the room. But as she turned away, a wicked smirk curved her lips.
Vera burst into the study, breathless, tears streaking her cheeks.
"Cyrus... Your Highness..."
Startled, Cyrus rose from his desk and rushed to her side. "What happened?"
"I—I only asked if I could borrow the crown for a few days…" she said in a trembling voice, clutching his sleeve. "I was so gentle about it, truly, but she... she got upset…"
She handed him the battered Crown of Startears. "She threw it at me. Look—it's damaged. How am I supposed to explain this to the Queen?"
But Cyrus's eyes had fixed on the red welt swelling at Vera's temple. He reached up, brushing it with trembling fingers. "She... did this to you?"
Vera lowered her eyes, her voice barely above a whisper. "She didn't mean to. She just... cares for you too much. I shouldn't have disturbed her, it was my fault... Don't be angry with her."
A teardrop landed on his hand—burning him like fire.
Cyrus's expression darkened with guilt and confusion. He took a breath, stroking her shoulder to calm her. "Don't worry. I'll have it repaired. The Queen will understand."
Vera gave him a grateful smile and slipped into his arms. "It's a blessing to have you, Your Highness."
Cyrus stiffened. He wanted to step back. But he didn't.
They were to be wed. She was his future wife.
——
The next few days flew by in a blur—meetings, court ceremonies, artisans summoned to repair the Crown. And so, once again, Cyrus did not go to Lia.
By the time he finally made his way to the north tower, nearly half a month had passed.
When he opened the door, Lia didn't rise to greet him. She didn't even turn around.
"Lia…" he called softly.
She stirred, but did not face him.
"I've been so busy lately," he said, stepping forward, reaching for her hand, brushing a kiss over her fingertips. "Please, don't be like this. I missed you more than you know."
He bent down to embrace her, to kiss her cheek and neck as he always did.
At last, she turned—but instead of leaning into him, she gently pushed him away.
Her eyes met his—those eyes that once held stars, now cold and hollow.
Cyrus froze, the breath knocked from his lungs.
"Lia… what's going on?" His voice dropped. "Don't you love me anymore?"
She didn't speak. She only shook her head—and turned away.
"Tell me what I did wrong!" he snapped, pain flaring in his eyes. "Haven't I done everything for you? Why can't you be more like Vera—kind, considerate, patient?"
Lia stared at him in disbelief.
For the first time, her gaze was filled with anguish—a silent scream of betrayal.
Tears streamed down her face. She stood, trembling… but instead of embracing him, she walked past him.
And in that instant, something tore through Cyrus's chest like a blade.
He staggered back, pale as ash.
"Fine…" he said hoarsely, barely above a whisper. "If you don't need me anymore... then goodbye."
The door slammed shut behind him.
Outside the tower, a startled seagull flapped into the sky.
Inside, Lia stood motionless, tears falling like rain.