Lena's pov
I stood in the queen's empty chambers, staring at the door she'd just walked through, and felt something crack inside me.
"We'll talk. I promise. When I return."
I laughed, short and hollow, at the empty room.
Of course. Of course that was how she'd left it. Another promise. Another delay. Another time she'd make it right later, and later never seemed to come. I'd heard those words so many times over the past weeks. Later. Tomorrow. When things settle down. But things never settled down. They just got worse, and I got pushed further away.
I moved mechanically through the space, straightening things that didn't need straightening. Smoothing bedcovers Elara had barely disturbed. Folding the nightdress she'd discarded on the floor like I was her laundress, not her–
Not her what?
What was I, exactly?
