The weight of the crown settled more heavily with each passing day.
Aurelia felt it in the petitions that arrived by the dozen, in the murmurs that followed her through the halls, in the careful way courtiers now watched her—as though she were a flame that might burn them if they stood too close.
Some days, she welcomed the distance. Other days, it felt like a blade pressed gently but insistently against her spine.
Still, she endured.
Gwen told her once when they were in her bedchamber that the opinions about her are divided. Some still call her cursed and a harbinger of doom and destruction. Some other people say otherwise.
Aurelia didn't think much about it, she just needs to do what she can as a queen.
