Chapter 17 Do You Dare To Harbor Dreams Of One-day Becoming Queen Of Avalon?

• I sat in my bed, the silken sheets tangled around me as if they too were caught up in the swirling storm of questions that plagued my mind. Who was this Anastasia who had so enraptured my son that he would abandon all decorum and visit her in the helper's quarters? Such a place was not meant for a prince, and yet there he had been, begging for her forgiveness as though his life depended on it. A prince does not beg; a prince commands, and yet Darius seemed to forget that fundamental truth.
• The feeling gnawed at me, persistent as the ache deep within my bones from countless nights spent sleepless with worry over the future of my kingdom. I could not shake it off, nor could I allow such thoughts to fester and grow unchecked. With a swift, silent determination, I slipped out of bed, the cold stone floor chilling my feet as I crept towards the door. It would not do for a queen to be seen in the helper's quarters, especially not one such as myself: regal, stern, and always calculating.
• As I moved through the dimly lit corridors, my heart quickened with each step, and the echo of my footsteps was a haunting reminder of the secrets I bore. My silver-streaked dark hair cascaded down my back like a waterfall of moonlight, and my piercing green eyes scanned the shadows for any sign of a lurking bodyguard. It would not do for them to see their queen skulking about like a thief in the night.