Aurelia remained confined to her chambers for five more days.
Five long, quiet days where the palace moved on without her, where whispers grew bold and assumptions took root.
By the sixth morning, she woke to a body that finally felt like her own again—no longer heavy with exhaustion, no longer trembling with that strange, hollow cold that had gripped her since the confrontation in the dowager queen's chamber.
Her strength had returned. Not fully—but it was enough.
Enough to stand. Enough to breathe without effort. Enough to reclaim what she had been absent from far too long.
It had been more than a week since she last appeared at court, and Aurelia had never despised idleness. Duty gave her purpose. It anchored her, reminded her that she was more than the cursed flesh she inhabited, more than the scars she carried.
And now, there was no time to waste.
Vaelric's birthday was less than two weeks away.
The thought alone sharpened her resolve.
