LIGHTNOVELONLINE Chapter 8: Chapter 8
Valeria couldn't shake off Gloria's words. After their conversation, she fell silent, lost in a tangle of thoughts that weighed heavily on her mind. The world around her blurred, as though she were moving through a fog, her senses dulled by the gravity of what lay before her. She needed time—time to process, to reflect, to make a decision that would shape the rest of her life. Gloria, sensing her turmoil, also remained quiet, continuing to brush Valeria's hair in soothing, rhythmic strokes until Beth returned, carrying a simple blue gown as requested.
Valeria didn't comment on the gown, but a flicker of surprise stirred within her. The king had actually allowed it. Part of her wanted to ask what he had said to grant her this small mercy, but even the thought of speaking his name filled her with dread, as if uttering it might somehow summon him. So, she held her silence, burying her curiosity beneath layers of caution and fear, still lost in contemplation as the maids helped her dress. They left her alone, retreating quietly as if sensing she needed solitude.
She ate her breakfast—eggs, vegetables, and a bowl of grapes—in the same contemplative silence. After finishing the eggs, she picked up the bowl and moved over to the window. It was only now, in this quiet moment, that she truly noticed the beauty of the view outside. From her window, she could see the forest stretching beyond the palace walls, a vast sea of autumn colors. In the distance, mountains rose proudly, their snow-capped peaks gleaming in the morning light. Birds soared across the sky, and the trees below blazed with shades of red and orange, their leaves drifting to the ground like whispers of freedom.
Her thoughts turned, unbidden, to the Castell Empire itself. Once, her father had spoken proudly of its strength, boasting that it was the largest and most powerful country in the world, having conquered two-thirds of the continent under Antonius Castell II. The former king had built an empire of fairness and peace, dividing it into six regions—Elsass, Istria, Kyburg, Lohra, Saint-Maurice, and Aalen. Each region was governed by a lord who represented the crown, and major decisions were to be made collectively, ensuring no single ruler could dominate unchecked.
But that balance had been destroyed. Antonius Castell III had inherited a thriving empire, only to dismantle everything his father had built. Where his father sought unity, Antonius craved control. He had bribed the Lord of Kyburg and replaced the Lord of Saint-Maurice after a mysterious illness wiped out the entire family. One more ally was all he needed to secure a voting majority and reign unopposed.
Valeria's chest tightened as her thoughts spiraled deeper into the web of the king's schemes. Her father had been his latest victim. Caught in a desperate attempt to poison Antonius, her father's bribed servant had confessed to save himself. But the plot had been doomed from the start—the king already knew. He had been tipped off by someone close to their family, someone who sought to curry favor: Maximilian, her father's son and her own half-brother.
The betrayal still felt like a fresh wound. She knew Maximillian hated her, resenting her ever since their childhood, when their father had chosen her as his heir. His bitterness festered over the years, fueled by what happened with his mother years ago when they were still children and the humiliation of being overlooked for the title he believed was rightfully his. But knowing his reasons did little to soften the sting.
Maximillian's hatred had driven him to destroy their family. By betraying their father, he had played straight into Antonius's hands. Their father's downfall had been inevitable from the moment the king set his trap, but now it was Valeria paying the price for both their actions. And that, more than anything, was a betrayal she could never forgive.
She felt a bittersweet pang as she looked out at the vastness outside. Once, in what felt like another life, she would have ridden through woods like these, her hair flying behind her, her heart racing with the thrill of freedom. Memories of hunting with her father surfaced, of laughter, of wind and earth and boundless skies. That time felt like a lifetime ago, a part of herself that was almost too painful to remember. But looking at the vastness outside, she felt that ache return—the yearning to break free, to reclaim the life she had lost.
Valeria sat by the window for hours, letting the colors of the forest and the open sky soothe her spirit. It was a small comfort, a reminder that beauty and freedom still existed beyond these walls, untouched by the darkness of her present. Somewhere beyond this prison, life continued, vibrant and untamed. Everything was not lost; she only needed to reach it, to break free of these chains and walk beyond those walls.
But it wasn't that simple. Her door was locked, heavily guarded, and even if she somehow managed to slip past, how far could she possibly go? She forced herself to push down the rising doubt. Thinking like that was as good as surrender. If she let herself sink into despair, if she resigned herself to her fate, she would be nothing more than a puppet in the king's hands—a docile wife, a breeding machine, stripped of her own will and freedom. The image filled her with a sickening dread, a cold wave of revulsion. She could imagine herself years from now, hollow and defeated, her spirit crushed, her life wasted in servitude to a man she despised.
Gloria's words echoed again in her mind, rekindling a small flame of defiance within her. She thought of Gloria's daughter, of all the other women whose lives might be shattered by men who saw them as nothing more than tools, possessions to be used and discarded. If she could somehow survive, perhaps she could be more than just a victim—perhaps she could be an example, a symbol of resistance. She could show them that even in the face of tyranny, one could still choose to fight.
She had believed she was trapped, that she had no choice. But that wasn't true, was it? She still had choices, however limited they might be. Surrendering—giving up—would be the only true defeat. As long as she held onto her will, as long as she refused to break, she would remain her own. She would fight for her freedom, even if it took months, years, or even decades. This room might be her prison, but it would never be her grave.