The first rays of dawn slipped through the carved lattice windows, pale and cold against the bridal chamber's silk curtains. I lay awake, staring at the embroidered phoenixes on the canopy above the bed. My body was still, but my mind had not rested since the candles were extinguished.
The Third Prince had not touched me.
After dousing the flames, he had lain down beside me in silence, his breath even and calm, as though I were no more than another cushion upon the bed. I had listened to that steady rhythm all night, every inhale and exhale carving the distance between us deeper.
Now, morning had come, and with it, tradition.
I heard them before they entered the shuffling of silk shoes, the hushed whispers of women, the faint clinking of bronze trays. The door creaked open, and a stream of palace maids filed in, their faces pale with anticipation. At their head was Madam Yun, the chief of the inner quarters, her hair wound into a tight knot crowned with jade pins. Her gaze was sharp as the edge of a knife.
They bowed low. "Your Highness, Princess Consort."
I sat up slowly, drawing the crimson quilt around me, hiding the trembling in my hands. The Third Prince remained reclined, one arm draped casually across the pillow, his face unreadable. He did not rise, did not speak.
Madam Yun clapped her hands. Two maids stepped forward with ritual solemnity. One of them carefully folded back the quilt, while the other reached for the bedclothes beneath us. I felt heat rise to my cheeks, though I kept my chin high.
The white silk sheet was drawn away, held up for all to see. It was spotless.
No scarlet stain.
The silence that followed was heavier than stone.
A murmur rippled through the maids. Some lowered their eyes quickly, others exchanged furtive glances. Madam Yun's lips curved in the faintest of smirks, the kind that concealed malice behind courtesy.
"It seems," she said lightly, though her tone carried weight, "that Heaven has not yet blessed the union."
Her words were daggers wrapped in silk.
My pulse thundered in my ears, but I forced my expression to remain calm. "Heaven's blessings do not always arrive on command."
A few maids gasped at my boldness, but Madam Yun only inclined her head, her eyes glinting with amusement. "Indeed, Princess Consort. Yet the court expects proof. Without it, tongues will wag."
My gaze flicked to the man beside me. The Third Prince had not moved. His dark eyes rested on the ceiling as though this entire ritual bored him beyond measure. Finally, he spoke, his tone cool and dismissive.
"This is of no concern. Tell them the marriage is as it should be."
The room froze. Even Madam Yun hesitated. "Your Highness…"
His gaze slid to hers, sharp as a blade unsheathed. "Do you doubt me?"
Her head bowed at once. "This servant would not dare."
With a flick of his hand, he dismissed them. The maids scurried away, carrying the untouched sheets as though they burned their fingers. Madam Yun lingered only long enough to cast me one last lingering look before she too departed, leaving behind the faint scent of sandalwood and suspicion.
When the doors closed, silence enveloped the chamber once more.
I turned to the prince. "Why did you protect me?"
His eyes met mine, unreadable, cold. "Do not mistake necessity for kindness. I will not have gossips tearing apart the palace over such trivialities. What is mine is mine, whether or not I choose to touch it."
The words cut, but I did not flinch. I lowered my gaze and folded my hands together. "As you say, Your Highness."
He rose, his black robe sweeping the floor as he crossed to the door. Without another glance at me, he left, his figure swallowed by the gilded hallways of the palace.
I remained alone, the morning light spilling across the empty bed. My fate had been spared, for now, by his word alone. But I knew the truth as surely as I knew the beating of my heart.
In this palace, mercy was a fragile thing. And every eye was waiting for me to stumble.