Chapter 5

“What is going on here?!” a deep, angry voice rang out. James was standing at the door, having just returned from the royal court. He was even still wearing his cloak.

He glanced at Lynette, who was kneeling on the cold ground with her cheek swollen. Then he looked at Isabella, frowning deeply.

Isabella froze, her eyes turning red in an instant. She ran up to James, looking hurt. “Your Majesty, look at her! I just told her off a little, and she threatened me with her father's name! She was so rude and unremorseful that I couldn’t help it…”

James looked at the injury on Lynette’s face. It was startlingly red and swollen.

His heart clenched in his chest. It hurt.

When he saw Isabella’s teary face, though, he remembered all she had done for him, even losing her right to motherhood. With that, he bit back the heartache he felt for Lynette.

He could not publicly chastise his queen and undermine her authority, so he looked at Lynette and said sternly, “Lady Eaves, apologize. The queen’s word is law in the harem, and disciplining the other concubines is her duty. Do you admit fault for speaking out of turn to her?”

Lynette raised her head and looked at him. Her gaze was colder than the ice on the ground and sharper than the howling winds, piercing straight into James’s eyes. There was no resentment or pleading, just a deep and despairing acceptance.

She slowly bowed, her forehead touching the icy floor, her voice terrifyingly calm. “I beg for your mercy, Your Majesty. You may… punish me as you see fit.”

Those words were spoken softly, yet they struck James’s chest hard. He was suddenly reminded of her words yesterday, when she advised him to take more wives. All of a sudden, that inexplicable anger burned in his chest again.

He squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened them, he was back to being the calm and collected king. “The concubine overstepped her station and spoke back to the queen. Starting today, she shall move to the west tower and stay there until she has learned her lesson.

The west tower was abandoned and isolated. It was practically a dungeon.

Triumph flashed across Isabella’s eyes.

Lynette bowed. “Understood, Your Majesty.”

James looked at her prostrating form and suddenly felt restless. He turned away. “That shall be the end of this matter!”

He left with his revenue. Only then did Lynette stand up slowly, a piercing pain in her knees.

Daisy rushed over to help her up, tears dripping from her face. “Let’s head back, my lady…”

“Yes.” Lynette’s voice was barely audible. “We’ll have to move our things.”

The west tower was as desolate as they said. It was chilly and dusty, covered in cobwebs. It took Daisy and her fellow maids a day of cleaning to make the place livable.

That night, Daisy applied ointment to Lynette’s face.

Lynette looked at her swollen cheek and broken lip in the mirror. She was a mess.

However, her eyes were as quiet as the calm before the storm. She asked softly, “Daisy, do you think I’ve been too patient these past years?”

Daisy blinked.

“My father taught me to be tolerant and look at the bigger picture,” Lynette continued as though talking to herself. “I tolerated everything for three years. I tolerated them taking away my children, humiliating me and making me kneel in the snow. I even tolerated this slap today…”

She turned to look at Daisy. “And what do I have to show for my tolerance?”

Daisy’s heart skipped at her mistress’ unfamiliar gaze in the mirror. “My lady, you did it all for the master, for the bigger picture…”

“For my father. For the bigger picture…”

Lynette echoed hollowly, her fingers sliding across the cold surface of the mirror. “So for the bigger picture, must I keep running to my demise like a lamb to the slaughter? Must I give up my children and allow them to insult my father’s name?”

She pulled her hand back. Her fingertips were terribly cold. “Tolerating anymore will only earn me even worse humiliation and endless loss.”

She turned to look at Daisy, something shattering and rebuilding anew in her eyes. “Bring me my sandalwood chest.”

It was one of the things she had brought from her maiden home. It had been safely stored in the warehouse the entire time.

Daisy brought it over and opened it. Everything inside was old: some books, a stack of poems, and some seals. At the very bottom was a painting.

Lynette took the painting out and put it on the table. It was a portrait of James from when he first returned from war three years ago, a young general riding a horse through the snow.

She had drawn it on the night she married him.

Looking back at it now, it only seemed ridiculous.

She went to her desk, picked up her pen, and wrote some words on the portrait. Her writing was tiny and hidden in the corner of the frame, barely legible unless one knew what they were looking for.

Lynette blew the ink dry carefully and handed the portrait to Daisy. “Keep it away, and be careful. Don’t dirty it.”

Daisy was bewildered.

“Keep it properly.” Lynette looked outside the window into the night, her gaze distant. “It’ll come in useful someday.”

Her gaze made Daisy’s heart tremble. “My lady, what do you plan to…”

“Nothing.” Lynette stood up and walked to the window. “When is His Majesty going to Westhill to inspect the troops?”

“Three days from now.”

“Good.” Lynette stared at the dead branch outside the window. “I want you to do something for me.”

That night, Daisy secretly left the palace on Lynette’s orders.