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Zoe helped Rue stand, and they both left the Queen pacing the small space, her teeth clamped on a finger, a hand holding her waist. There was no plan for what would happen if something like this were to occur. It is only a matter of time before Neera revealed the truth, and the only thing connecting Jasmine to the truth was those two maids.

Jasmine stopped pacing. She was going to have to have Zoe and Rue killed and fast.

No maids, no perpetrator of the murder, no connection back to her. Safest plan.

So Jasmine made her way back to her chambers, carefully plotting out the murder that would take place, and trying to map out how simply she could execute it without drawing attention. She rounded up a corner, and she saw the gown first before she backed away into an alcove.

Neera.

Jasmine controlled her breathing, hiding even the smallest sound. Neera walked past, the gown flowing behind her, and not once did she turn to look back.

Jasmine wasted no time running away, checking over her shoulder as she hurried. She bumped into something strong, losing her balance until two hands came around her to steady her.

She looked up. It was Zavian.

.....

“Why were you running? Were you being chased?” Zavian asked.

Jasmine shook her head and gave a nervous laugh. “I was just… hurrying to get something done in our chambers.”

“Okay”, Zavian did not say anything more to that, but instead, asked, “Did you see Neera? She was asking about you.”

Oh no, Jasmine panicked internally, she knows.

“Why?” Jasmine managed to croak out.

“Why?” Zavian frowned at the question. “I assume you two are close friends.”

“Oh yes, yes,” another nervous laugh escaped her. “I am just... all over the place. I need to go and rest a bit, and I will see her shortly.”

Zavian watched as she threw a surreptitious glance over her shoulder, and whatever had scared Jasmine was probably still on her trial.

“Is there something wrong?” Zavian had to ask again. Or maybe the Queen was spooked out by Neera’s whole demeanour and didn’t want to tell him.

“Oh, nothing”, Jasmine waved a hand. “I have to go, your Majesty.”

She didn’t wait for a second more for Zavian to say anything. She hurried up the stairs, and when she threw a final glance over her shoulder, she could make out the outline of eyes peeking at her from around the corner.

Eyes of Neera or Zoe or Rue; Jasmine could not tell.

….

The only thing Azriel was used to from women was attention; good or bad, they always wanted him to look their way, to notice them, to see them.

But what he wasn’t used to was being totally ignored, as if he didn’t exist. It made him flustered as he turned in his bed at night, and gave his days a certain kind of moodiness. Throughout his lifetime, only one person had the galls to pull that off on him, and it was Penelope.

He could never catch her eyes anymore, or his voice would not make her raise her head, even if it was the smallest gesture, a mark that acknowledged his presence. She was as cold as the blizzards of the worst of winters, and although it had just been a few days since their return from the palace, it irked Azriel like it was a lifetime, each second dragging past him like a punishment.

So when the maids were retiring to their quarters, Azriel knew where he could find her. He found her in the kitchen, on all fours as she scrubbed the floors, and there was another maid peeling potatoes.

The other maid rose to her feet. “My Lord.”

Penelope stiffened, but still continued scrubbing, and Azriel’s annoyance shot through him again.

“You should be asleep”, Azriel stated.

“We had some last-minute chores to see to, my Lord”, the maid looked to Penelope to speak, but Pen continued her scrubbing, which had grown more vigorous, soap foaming around the hands holding the brush in a death grip.

“Continue it in the morn, you may retire,” Azriel said.

The maid bowed and tapped on Penelope’s shoulder. Penelope didn’t grant her any attention, and the maid, clearly uncomfortable by the blatant disregard of order, hurried out of the kitchen.

“I said to leave it until tomorrow, Pen,” Azriel ordered.

The scrubbing stopped, and Penelope rose to her feet. Just before she could make it past Azriel and out of the door, the Commander gripped her forearm to stop her.

“Why won’t you speak to me?” Azriel gritted out. But Pen focused her eyes on the exit and said not a word.

“Pen!” Azriel called. No flinch, no response, complete, cold silence that somehow had the power to boil his blood.

He pulled her to stand in front of him. She didn’t fight back but kept her eyes away from his. With a strong hand, he forced her face up to his, willing her to look at him, but her eyes were kept downcast, mouth set in a determined line.

“Look at me, Pen”, Azriel said, but she didn’t.

“Is this about Neera?” Azriel asked. No answer. “Okay. Do you want to know why I didn’t want to tell you anything about her? I only wanted to protect you, Pen, I did it for you! So just look at me.”

But Pen didn’t answer.

Azriel let go of her face and pulled her close to him. He set his head on her shoulder, and rested his face there, inhaling the faint scent of lilac from her.

“I don’t know why, but I have missed you even though you are here”, Azriel whispered. “Every time I get closer to you, I am always one step forward and ten steps back. Pen, please, you are killing me, talk to me.”