{Third Person}
Lysandra, as if satisfied with the effect she had created, gestured lightly. Then the servant holding the thick textbook stepped forward.
Amara’s eyes flicked to her, a flash of displeasure crossing her face before she reluctantly reached out and took the book. Its weight settled into her hands, heavy and unwelco.
"That’s more like it," Lysandra said with a faint sneer. "For a mont, I thought you had grown wings just from staying in the Alpha Prince’s residence for a few weeks."
Then, she shook her head dismissively and waved her hand. "You may leave."
Amara bowed slightly. It was a controlled, minimal nod she didn’t even want to give in the first place. Then she turned and walked out without another word.
Behind her, Lysandra let out a quiet scoff. "She is becoming arrogant... just like that bastard."
—
The mont Amara stepped out of the hall, the composure she had forced on herself shattered.
Tears spilled from her eyes before she could stop them. She didn’t even try to hide her emotions anymore, now that she was no longer standing in Lysandra’s presence.
Mrs. Woods, who had been waiting anxiously outside, imdiately noticed.
"My lady—" she rushed forward, her face filled with concern.
She gently took the textbook from Amara’s hands, her brows knitting together. "What happened? Where is Ginger?"
That was all it took for Amara to break completely.
Her voice trembled as she spoke, the words coming out unevenly as she recounted everything that had happened inside—the accusation, the punishnt, and finally, how Ginger had been taken from her.
With every word, Mrs. Woods’ expression changed. Colour drained from her face as shock and disbelief settled there. And beneath it, sothing close to alarm.
’Her Majesty has gone too far...’ she thought to herself.
Then, as if rembering whose territory they were still on, she quickly glanced around them, lowering her voice before placing a comforting hand over Amara’s.
"My lady... let’s head back first."
She guided her gently toward the carriage.
—
Inside the carriage, the space felt smaller and quieter.
Amara sat with her hands clasped tightly together, her tears still falling despite her efforts to calm down.
Mrs. Woods stayed beside her, her voice soft but steady. "Please, try to calm down, My Lady," she said. "As soon as His Highness returns, I will inform him of everything."
But Amara barely heard her. Her thoughts were elsewhere... with Ginger.
Her chest tightened again. She imagined the worst without aning to, each thought heavier than the last.
She sniffed, her voice breaking as she spoke. "I shouldn’t have brought her with ... I should have insisted she stayed back."
Her hands tightened further. "Now look at what I got her into."
Mrs. Woods sighed quietly, her heart aching at the sight. She reached out and gently rubbed Amara’s arm in comfort.
"It will be alright," she said softly, though even she couldn’t fully steady the uncertainty in her own mind.
Still, she stayed beside her, offering what little reassurance she could as the carriage carried them back in heavy silence.
---
The room they took Ginger to was not grand, nor was it ant to be seen.
It sat at the back of the Queen’s palace, tucked away behind a narrow corridor that most nobles would never walk through.
Inside, the space was plain—bare walls, a low wooden table, and a small window that let in just enough light to keep the room from feeling completely suffocating.
The two servants who had taken Ginger placed her down. Or rather, tried to.
The mont her feet touched the surface, she sprang away, fur bristling, eyes sharp and alert.
A low, warning sound ca from her as she backed into a corner, her small body tense, ready to fight again if they ca any closer.
One of the servants scoffed, still nursing the faint scratches on her hand. "This thing has quite the temper," she muttered.
The other servant didn’t move forward. Instead, she hesitated.
Her gaze lingered on the cat, then shifted toward the door as if expecting soone to walk in at any mont.
"Should we really... treat it like this?" she asked quietly.
The first servant shot her an annoyed look. "Didn’t you hear Her Majesty? The cat needs to be disciplined."
"That’s not what I an," the second one replied, lowering her voice even further. "This isn’t just any pet. It belongs to the Alpha Prince’s bride."
The room fell into a brief silence. The first servant’s expression stiffened slightly, but she quickly masked it.
"And?" she said, though there was less confidence in her tone now.
The second servant took a small step back, folding her arms as unease crept into her face.
"What if this escalates?" she continued. "If anything happens to this cat, do you think Her Majesty will stand in front and take the bla?"
That uncomfortable question lingered heavily in the room.
"She won’t," the servant added quietly. "She will throw us under the bus without hesitation."
The first servant didn’t respond imdiately this ti. Her grip on the cloth in her hand tightened slightly.
Across the room, Ginger let out another sharp cry, pacing restlessly, her distress clear as she searched for an escape that wasn’t there.
The tension in the room shifted, no longer as certain as before.
—
Back at the Alpha Prince’s residence, the atmosphere felt entirely different.
Amara sat at the table in her room, the thick textbook placed open before her. The pages seed endless, the words blurring together the longer she stared at them.
Her hand hovered over the paper, but she hadn’t written anything yet.
Every ti she tried to focus, her thoughts dragged her back to Ginger, the sound of her cries, and to the mont she was taken away.
Her fingers tightened around the pen, then loosened and tightened again.
Right then, a knock ca at the door. Before she could finish recollecting her thoughts and respond, it opened.
"Elowen?" Amara blinked, startled.
The princess stepped in quickly, her usual bright energy noticeably dimd. There was still movent in her, still life, but there was sothing more serious and more aware in her expression.
"I heard," Elowen said without preamble as she walked closer.
Amara’s grip on the pen faltered.
For a mont, neither of them spoke. Then Elowen sighed, running a hand lightly through her hair before looking at Amara properly.
"I’m sorry," she said.
The words were simple, but they carried weight. Amara didn’t expect them.
"She is my mother," Elowen continued in a softer tone, "but... I’m tired of making excuses for her."
Amara’s eyes softened slightly, though the heaviness in her chest didn’t ease.
Elowen stepped closer and glanced at the open textbook, then at the blank paper beside it. "You haven’t started."
Amara let out a weak breath. "I don’t even know where to begin."
Elowen’s gaze lingered on her for a second, then shifted—sothing more practical taking over.
"Then don’t do it the hard way."
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