"Who did that?"
Ines's voice was sharp, her eyes a cold, icy blue as they locked onto Zarah.
Zarah's fingers tightened against the bedsheets as she met her gaze.
The scars.
Ines had seen them.
That… could be a good thing.
Now she could tell her about the cruelty of the Cerulean brothel, about the Madam's idea of "punishment".
Ines was a just ruler.
She would not let something like that go unpunished.
And she was also…
Zarah hesitated.
Interested.
Zarah had noticed it, but whether that interest was mere attraction… or something more, she didn't know.
Still, punishment alone was not enough.
Zarah lacked proof.
Proof of the human trafficking. Proof of everything that truly happened within those walls.
She didn't know if Ines would shut the brothel down based on this alone.
That was why she had waited.
Waited for something more before revealing the truth.
Before revealing the scars.
The ones the Madam had given her.
Zarah's breathing hitched.
Her thoughts began to loop.
The Madam's voice.
The crack of the whip.
Heat.
She was twelve again, standing on burning coals, her back raw as the lashes fell one after another.
Before that...
She was six.
Small. Helpless.
Her hands tied.
Unable to even shield herself.
Her fingers trembled violently.
Her vision blurred.
The phantom pain returned, sharp and sudden.
Her feet burned, as if the coals were beneath them once more.
Her back throbbed, the old wounds screaming as though they had split open again.
Ines noticed it immediately.
The way Zarah's pupils shifted, unfocused, trembling.
The way her fingers clenched tightly into the sheets, as if holding on for dear life.
Her body had begun to shake.
Ines's eyes widened.
Something was wrong.
Quickly, she cupped Zarah's cheek, her other hand gently covering Zarah's clenched fist.
"Zarah?" she called softly. "Zarah… it's okay. You're safe."
Zarah's eyes snapped back into focus, landing on her, but no words came.
Her lips parted, but nothing followed.
Ines didn't wait.
She leaned forward, pressing a soft, grounding kiss to Zarah's lips.
"It's okay," she murmured. "Breathe."
She shifted, pulling Zarah into her arms, wrapping her securely against her chest.
"You're safe," Ines whispered, her voice low and steady. "No one can hurt you here."
Her hand moved gently through Zarah's hair, slow and careful.
"I won't let them."
Zarah let out a broken sound, her hands lifting weakly before clutching onto Ines.
"Hold on," Ines murmured softly. "As tight as you need."
Zarah nodded faintly, her grip tightening.
She pressed closer.
'She's warm…'
The thought came quietly.
Zarah breathed in slowly, grounding herself in that warmth, in her scent, in her presence.
And for the first time since the memories surfaced...
her body began to calm.
Ines watched as Zarah's breathing slowly steadied, her chest rising and falling in a calmer rhythm.
Gently, she tilted Zarah's chin upward, holding her there for a moment before pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.
"Better?" she asked quietly.
Zarah nodded, pressing closer into her.
The Empress's embrace was warm, too warm, too comfortable.
Ines smiled faintly, her fingers continuing to thread through Zarah's hair.
"I would have preferred words, Flower," she murmured, placing a light kiss at the corner of her eye.
"I'm fine…" Zarah replied softly, her face still buried against Ines's chest.
Ines huffed lightly.
"For someone who refuses to touch me even when I allow it… you're rather clingy."
Zarah flushed but didn't pull away.
If Iris saw this, if anyone saw this...
they would never let her hear the end of it.
Ines's smile deepened as she held her closer, cradling her against her.
But beneath that softness...
her gaze darkened.
Someone had done this to Zarah.
Someone had dared.
Her hold tightened slightly.
Whoever it was…
they would pay.
Ines's expression stilled, something cold settling behind her eyes.
She would make sure of it.
A comfortable silence settled between them.
Zarah slowly lifted her head from Ines's chest, only to find Ines already watching her.
Their eyes met.
Ines's gaze softened slightly, one brow lifting in quiet question.
Zarah drew in a breath.
"If Your Majesty still wishes to know…" she began, hesitating before continuing, "…then I will tell you."
Her grip on Ines tightened as she exhaled shakily.
Ines gently brushed a strand of hair away from her face.
"You don't have to," she said softly. "Not now. Not if you're not ready."
Zarah shook her head faintly.
"It's alright… I can."
She steadied herself.
Her scars alone were enough to prove the cruelty of the brothel, the Madam's punishments.
Perhaps not enough to bring the entire place down…
…but enough to start something.
And if she gave Ines even a hint, if she told Nolan...
then surely, there would be a way to uncover the rest.
To end it.
Ines studied her for a moment before letting out a quiet sigh.
"…Alright, Flower."
She didn't want to push her.
If she wished, Ines could simply have Nolan investigate Zarah's past and learn everything without forcing her to relive it.
But this...
this was Zarah choosing to speak.
And she would not take that from her.
Zarah took a deep breath, her grip tightening around Ines's hand.
Ines immediately adjusted, threading her fingers through Zarah's and giving a gentle, reassuring squeeze.
"The Cerulean brothel isn't what it appears to be," Zarah began quietly.
"The living conditions there…" she hesitated, "…are barely survivable. The girls are not given enough food. Only those selected to become flower maidens receive proper portions, everyone else is given less. Much less."
Her voice steadied slightly as she continued.
"It's worse for those who aren't chosen. Once they turn eighteen, they're forced into service… with no proper care. No treatment. Not even medication to protect them from disease."
She swallowed.
"Some of them try to run."
Ines's expression hardened, her gaze darkening with every word.
Zarah exhaled before continuing.
"When I was six, I was helping one of the batches prepare to leave for the Imperial Palace… I think it was one of the first groups sent after Your Majesty became Empress."
Her fingers tightened unconsciously.
"I fell asleep inside one of the wardrobes while packing."
Ines frowned immediately.
"Wait… six?" she interrupted, her brows knitting together. "Why were you doing that at such an age?"
Zarah met her gaze.
"…It seems I didn't escape child labor," she said dryly.
Ines's expression sharpened.
"Do not jest."
"I'm not, Your Majesty," Zarah replied evenly. "Children there are made to work, pulling weeds, ironing clothes, packing… anything they're told to do."
Ines's hand rose, her fingers brushing gently along Zarah's cheek before catching a strand of her hair.
Her touch was careful. Controlled.
"…It has fallen that far," Ines said quietly, her voice edged with something colder. "I expected little from such a place… but this…"
Her fingers stilled briefly against Zarah's hair.
"…this is something else entirely."
She pressed a soft kiss to the strand before letting it fall.
"Go on," she murmured.
"The wardrobe I fell asleep in… it held sentimental value for one of the senior flower maidens," Zarah continued quietly.
"She had asked to take it with her to the palace. The Madam is… kinder to those who are leaving, so she allowed it."
Zarah's fingers tightened slightly.
"But I was still inside when they found it."
She exhaled slowly.
"They thought I was trying to escape."
Her voice wavered, just slightly.
"No matter how many times I tried to explain… that it was a misunderstanding… they didn't listen."
"They dragged me to the Madam."
Zarah paused, glancing at Ines as she steadied her breathing.
Ines leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her jaw.
Zarah said nothing of Zoya.
Something in Ines's expression told her that blame might fall where it didn't belong.
So she continued.
"Madam tied my wrists…" her voice dropped, "…and whipped me."
A pause.
"Again… and again… and again."
Her breath caught.
"They didn't stop."
"…and that was the first time I was punished."
Before she could say more, Ines pulled her closer.
Firm.
Protective.
Ines's eyes burned, her composure cracking under the weight of it.
"First time?" she repeated, her voice low, dangerously so. "It happened again?"
Zarah had been six.
Six.
Ines's grip tightened, something dark settling behind her gaze.
'How dare they.'
"I was twelve… and this time, I had planned an escape," Zarah said quietly.
"Jia… she's the daughter of the Duke of Sterling—"
"You know Lady Sterling?" Ines interrupted, a flicker of something sharp crossing her expression.
The thought that someone else had known Zarah, before her, sat uncomfortably in her chest.
Zarah nodded faintly.
"She was sold into the brothel by her kidnappers," she explained. "The Madam bought her, believing noble blood would fetch a higher price when the batch was sent to the palace."
Her voice steadied slightly.
"She was my age… so she was placed in my group."
Zarah's fingers tightened.
"We planned to escape. Jia… and a few others with us."
A pause.
She did not mention that she never planned her own escape.
"But someone in our group betrayed us."
Her voice dropped.
"Iris, Celine, and I stayed behind… so Jia and the others could take another route. She made it back to her Duchy."
Zarah didn't mention who had exposed them.
Something in Ines's tightening grip told her not to.
Ines said nothing, only held her closer, waiting.
Zarah closed her eyes, her hand trembling.
"The Madam made me stand on burning coals while she—"
"Enough."
Ines pulled her in sharply, her arms wrapping around her protectively.
"That's enough," she said, her voice low but firm.
She pressed kisses against Zarah's tear-streaked face.
"I understand. You don't have to say any more."
Zarah hadn't even realized she was crying.
A broken breath left her as she clung to Ines, burying her face against her chest once more.
'I will kill her.'
The thought came without hesitation.
Anyone who had laid a hand on Zarah,
would pay.
Ines's hold tightened, her expression still, her gaze darkening into something far colder than anger.
The Madam would not be granted a quick death.
No.
She would be made to understand.
Every scream. Every wound. Every moment of fear she had inflicted will be returned in full.
And the brothel?
It would not survive this.
Let the court speak of tradition. Let them cling to their rituals.
Ines did not care.
Nothing—
mattered more than the girl in her arms.