"It is not iron that binds me,
But the too-polished gold of their promises.
I smile in silk,
But my heart groans in stone.
Everything that glitters here
Is just another way to chain me."
Sérenya opened her eyes in a room too vast for a single body.
The sheets were imperial silk, woven with silver and embroidered flowers. But beauty here had the taste of cold.
She got up. Her nightgown rustled against the silence.
Her left wrist, still adorned with the golden wedding chain, felt heavier than the day before. She tried to take it off. She couldn't. The clasp was invisible.
"You don't take off the wedding bands of Amayélé. They melt into the skin."
The voice came from Kamintha, already seated near the fire, a steaming cup in her hands.
" I'm not a jewel."
"No. You're a symbol. And symbols don't escape."
Sérenya sat down slowly.
"Then I'll be the kind of symbol they'll regret choosing."