Meanwhile, Sonia lay still on her bed. The curtains were drawn halfway, letting in just enough light to outline the room without warming it. The tray of food beside her remained untouched. Steam had long disappeared. What remained was cold, and lifeless food.
She stared at nothing. The door creaked open. Monica stepped in quietly, balancing another small cloth in her hand. She paused the moment her eyes fell on the tray.
Still untouched..Her shoulders dropped slightly. "My lady," she said, her voice careful, "you have not touched your food."
No response.
Monica walked closer, each step measured. "You didn't eat yesterday either.".She stopped beside the bed, looking down at her. "If you continue this way, you are going to fall sick and die."
The words lingered. Sonia's lips trembled slightly. Then the tears came..Not loud. Not dramatic. Just steady. "Maybe it's better I die."
The sentence slipped out like it had been waiting. Monica exhaled sharply, the sound breaking the stillness of the room.
She placed the cloth aside and folded her arms for a moment, as if holding herself together. "It has been ten months," she said. "Ten months since Newton left Snowland for the monastery."
Sonia's eyes didn't move. "He looks happy when he returns," Monica continued.
She paused.
"Yet you are here, still breaking yourself over him."
Sonia's fingers tightened slightly against the bedsheet. She shook her head. "I am not breaking myself over Newton," she said quietly. "I am over him." The words sounded right. But they didn't sit right.
Monica watched her for a moment, then moved closer and sat at the edge of the bed. "Then why have you refused to see anyone?" she asked gently.
She didn't answer.
"Why have you refused to come out?"
Silence stretched
"Why do you barely eat?"
Sonia's gaze dropped. Her throat moved as she swallowed. "Because I do not want to marry Ryli."
The name hung heavy in the air. "I will be eighteen in the next two months," she continued. "And my parents will willingly give me up into bondage."
Her voice didn't rise..It didn't need to..Monica's eyes softened, then slowly filled. She had been there from the beginning. From the first cry. The first step. Every moment that followed.
She reached out and gently touched Sonia's hair, arranging the strands with quiet care. "Maybe the future will not be as bad as you think," she said.
Her fingers moved slowly, smoothing, fixing. "Maybe there is a good life waiting for you at the capital."
Sonia shook her head immediately. "There cannot be a good life with Ryli." Her voice carried more weight now.."I will live in perpetual sadness."
Monica's hand stilled. She looked at her. Really looked at her. And in that moment, she knew. There were no words that would change this. No argument was strong enough. No hope was convincing enough.
So she nodded. Slowly. "Alright," she said. "Then eat."
Sonia didn't move. Monica leaned slightly closer. "If you agree to eat," she added, "I will take you to Bebe. The old seer."
Sonia's brows pulled together.
"She will check how your life is going to be in the capital."
The room went quiet again. Sonia's fingers loosened slightly. "What if she confirms what I already know?"
The question came low. Almost afraid.
Silence stretched between them.
Monica didn't look away. "Then I will take you from here," she said.
Sonia blinked.
"Both of us will run away." The words landed hard.
Sonia's mouth parted. "That would be treason."
Monica nodded. "Yes." There was no hesitation in her eyes. "But I will risk my head for yours." Her voice softened. "Because I love you."
Sonia broke. She leaned forward, falling into Monica's arms. "I love you too."
Their shoulders shook. Tears fell freely now. Not hidden. Not held back. For a moment, nothing else existed.
Monica pulled back first. She wiped Sonia's cheeks gently, her thumb brushing away the wetness. "Now you have to eat," she said.
Sonia glanced at the tray. Her nose wrinkled slightly. "It is cold already."
A faint pause.
"I need warmth."
Monica smiled. A small one.."I will be back." She stood quickly and left the room.
When she returned, the difference was clear. Fresh food. Steam rising gently. The scent filled the space, soft and inviting..She sat again: carefully, and fed Sonia herself.
Slow bites. Small pauses. Sonia didn't resist, she ate.
Afterward, Monica helped her up. Step by step. Every touch was careful. She led her to the bathroom, washing her gently, like she had done years ago. Water ran over her skin, washing away the stillness that had settled over her for months.
Then she dressed her..A fine gown..Soft fabric that fell neatly around her frame.
She applied a light scent. Not too strong. Just enough.
Then she brought the wheelchair. Sonia lowered into it.
Monica adjusted her position, making sure she was comfortable. Then she began to roll her out.
The corridor stretched ahead. Familiar, yet unfamiliar.
Servants stopped..Whispers followed. "She is out…"
"I thought she would never come out.
"Ten months…"
The words floated around them. Sonia kept her gaze forward.
Then Bianca appeared..She froze the moment she saw her..Tears filled her eyes instantly.."My dearest," she whispered..She moved forward quickly, arms already opening.
Sonia's hand lifted.."Don't.".The word cut through everything.
Bianca stopped. Her body stiffened.
"Do not come close," Sonia added. "I do not want to see you.".The distance between them felt larger than the corridor itself.
Bianca's chest rose sharply. "You are willing to force me into slavery," Sonia continued. The words struck harder this time.
"That is not it," Bianca said quickly. "You will be queen, not a slave." Her voice trembled. "It is your destiny. One which was prophesied to me even before I got married to your father."
Sonia let out a small, empty laugh. "A queen who will be molested and assaulted?"
The words landed without hesitation..She shook her head slowly. "You are willing to trade my happiness for a piece of prophecy."
Bianca's lips parted..No words came. "Stay away from me."
Sonia's gaze didn't waver..Monica didn't wait. She pushed the wheelchair forward. Past Bianca. Past the silence she left behind.
They moved through the halls. Through the open space. Until the structure changed.
Smaller, and quieter..The air felt different here.
Still, and heavy.
The shrine stood ahead. Simple. Worn by time.
Monica slowed. Then stopped. They had arrived at the small shrine of Bebe, the seer.