Bound by the Mark of Lies (BL)
Chapter 105 - 100: Her pain

Chapter 105: Chapter 100: Her pain

The walls of Rosaline’s chambers felt like they were closing in on her. The once-grand furnishings, silken drapes, and dim, flickering ether lamps did nothing to fill the emptiness in her chest. The low-quality ether cast a sickly, uneven glow, warping the edges of her surroundings and making the space feel even smaller and more suffocating. It was as though all color had drained from the world, leaving only muted shades of grief and quiet, seething rage.

She had lost her child.

A child that should have been Damian’s. A child that should have secured her place at his side. But now there was only silence, a deafening void where the future had once blossomed in her mind.

The night before had been agony. The silent wails that never came, the lack of warmth in her arms—she felt like a ghost inside her own skin, trapped in a body that had failed her. There had been a lot of blood on her sheets, hands, and the very essence of her being. Despite her anguish, the world around her went on as usual. The palace was still filled with laughter and celebration, and the court was still whispering about alliances and ambitions, as if her suffering was insignificant.

It was Gabriel’s fault.

The thought burned through the fog of despair like a blade. He had ruined everything, including her status, ambitions, and security. And now the cruel fates had taken away the one thing that was still hers. The child had been hers. Damian’s. He had to be. It didn’t matter what anyone said or what the truth might have been. She had believed it. She had needed to believe it.

But now, Gabriel had taken even that away.

Her fingers clenched the embroidered fabric of her gown, nails digging into her palm until it stung. Hot tears streamed down her cheeks, unchecked, as her breath caught in quiet sobs. The grief clawed at her throat, raw and unrelenting, suffocating in its intensity. Her mind spun in circles, drowning in the delusion that if she had been stronger and held on tighter, the child would still be alive.

He had always been a stain upon her existence, an unwanted force meddling in her fate. A choked, shuddering gasp left her lips, and then another, until her cries turned into laughter, soft, bitter, broken. The sound echoed in the empty room, an eerie symphony of her unraveling mind. Her fingers curled into the fabric of her gown, gripping it so tightly that her knuckles turned white.

She could see it now: Gabriel standing by Damian’s side, undeserving and unaffected by loss. Damian, the man who had abandoned her, refused to recognize her worth, and stole everything from her the moment he accepted Gabriel into his life.

A sharp sob ripped through her body, twisting into a growl. If she had lost everything, then so would they. Gabriel had taken Damian from her, and she was going to take him from Damian. Not just his status, not just his court appearance, but his entire life.

She imagined the fear in Gabriel’s dark eyes, the way his breath hitched when he realized what was about to happen. She wanted to see him ruined, discarded, broken beyond repair. But more than that, she wanted Damian to feel it. To know the agony of losing the thing he held most dear.

Her breath came in uneven gasps as the thought consumed her, the desire tightening around her heart like a vice. No, she would not suffer alone. Gabriel had to pay. Damian had to suffer. And she would make sure they both did.

No. She would not suffer alone.

Her eyes, once dulled by despair, sharpened with purpose. If fate would not grant her justice, then she would seize it herself.

"Anna," she called, her voice hoarse but laced with steely command.

Her maid appeared at the doorway, her expression shifting from concern to quiet obedience. "My lady?"

Rosaline turned to her, her face eerily composed. "I need you to deliver a request for me."

Anna hesitated. "To whom, my lady?"

Rosaline’s lips curled into a slow, bitter smile. "Princess Anya."

A flicker of uncertainty passed through Anna’s features, her lips pressing into a thin line. She hesitated, her gaze flickering toward her mistress’s trembling hands, the way Rosaline’s breath hitched unevenly.

"My lady," Anna murmured carefully, stepping forward, "perhaps it would be best to rest. You’ve barely slept, and your grief—"

"Do not speak of my grief," Rosaline snapped, her voice sharp as broken glass. But there was a crack beneath the anger, a tremor of something dangerously close to desperation.

Anna lowered her head slightly, but she did not retreat. "I only mean to caution you, my lady. The Emperor’s fury is not easily forgotten, and if you act in haste—"

"I am not afraid of Damian!" Rosaline’s voice rose, shrill, and brittle before it broke entirely. Her breath came in shallow, erratic gasps, her fingers curling into fists. "He does not care. He never did! He took everything from me, and now, Gabriel—Gabriel sits beside him as if I never existed!" Her voice wavered, turning hoarse with the weight of her fury. "I will not be discarded like a broken toy."

Anna’s heart clenched at the sight of her, at the rawness of her unraveling. But this was dangerous. If Rosaline did not regain her composure, if she let herself be seen in this state, it would only bring more ruin upon her.

Swallowing hard, Anna softened her tone. "Then let me help you, my lady. Let me ensure that your words reach the right ears. But not like this, not when your pain is still so fresh."

For a moment, Rosaline said nothing. Then, slowly, she exhaled, forcing her shoulders to relax. The mask of cold composure slid back into place, though Anna could still see the cracks beneath it.

"Shall I deliver a written message, or would you prefer I arrange a private audience?" Anna finally asked, as if the outburst had never happened.

"A meeting. As soon as possible," Rosaline replied without hesitation. "Make it clear that it is urgent. That we have a common enemy."

Anna’s gaze lingered on her for a moment, as if trying to decipher what exactly her mistress intended. But she knew better than to question. With another bow, she turned and left the room, the door closing softly behind her.

Rosaline remained still for a long moment, her fingers tracing the edge of the chair she sat upon. Her heart no longer ached, it had hardened. If the world wished to take everything from her, then she would return the favor.

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