The wine glass shattered against the wall, missing Elira's head by inches.
She didn't flinch. She'd learned not to. Flinching only made it worse.
"You embarrassed me." Caden's voice was ice, each word clipped and precise. He straightened his doublet, his handsome face twisted into something ugly. "In front of the Duchess of Morwen, you contradicted me."
Elira kept her eyes on the red wine dripping down the stone wall of their private chambers, staining the tapestry her mother had woven. Twenty-four years old, Queen of Aveline for five years, married for two and she'd become an expert at counting drops of wine instead of meeting her husband's eyes.
"I didn't contradict you," she said quietly, carefully. "I merely suggested"
"You merely suggested?" He laughed, but there was no humor in it. "You are a queen, Elira. MY queen. When you speak, people listen. When you undermine my decisions, you make me look weak."
You are weak, she thought. That's why you need to control me.
But she didn't say it. She'd said it once, three months ago. The bruise on her ribs had taken weeks to fade.
"I apologize," she whispered, hating herself for it.
Caden crossed the room in three strides. Elira forced herself to remain still as he gripped her chin, tilting her face up to his. His fingers pressed hard enough to bruise.
"Do you know what happens to queens who forget their place?" His breath smelled of wine and something sour. "History is full of unfortunate accidents."
Her heart hammered against her ribs. "Caden"
"Lord Caden," he corrected. "I am your husband. Your king consort. You will address me properly."
"Lord Caden," she repeated, the title ash on her tongue.
He released her face with a shove and turned toward the door. "I'm dining with the council tonight. You will stay here. You have a headache."
It wasn't a suggestion.
"Of course," Elira said to his back.
The door slammed behind him. The sound of the lock clicking into place echoed through the chamber.
Elira stood frozen for a long moment, then slowly lifted her hand to her chin where his fingers had dug in. She walked to her mirror the silver-framed one her father had given her on her sixteenth birthday and studied her reflection.
Green eyes stared back at her, too bright with unshed tears. Dark hair tumbled over her shoulders, slightly disheveled from where Caden had grabbed her earlier. Pale skin, high cheekbones, a straight nose. They said she was beautiful. The people loved their beautiful, kind queen.
If only they knew.
A soft knock at the servant's door made her spin around.
"My lady?" The voice was hushed, urgent. "It's Sara."
Elira hurried to the small door and opened it. Her lady's maid slipped inside, her face pale.
"Sara, you shouldn't be here. If Lord Caden finds out"
"You need to hear this." Sara gripped Elira's hands, and they were shaking. "I was bringing linens to the council room earlier. I heard them talking. Lord Caden and Commander Thorne."
Elira's chest tightened. "What did you hear?"
Sara's eyes filled with tears. "My lady... they're planning to kill you."
The room tilted. Elira gripped the edge of her dressing table to steady herself.
"What?"
"Tonight," Sara whispered. "After the council dinner. They're going to make it look like you fell. An accident on the terrace stairs. Lord Caden said..." Her voice broke. "He said he's tired of waiting. That with you gone, he'll be sole ruler of Aveline. The council supports him."
Elira's mind raced. The council. Of course. The same men who'd pushed her to marry Caden in the first place. The same men who'd slowly isolated her, stripped away her power, made every decision without her.
She'd been a fool.
"How long do I have?"
"Hours. Maybe less." Sara pulled a small pouch from her apron. "I packed what I could. Money, jewelry you can sell. There's a cloak."
"Sara"
"You have to run, my lady. Now. I'll help you get to the servants' passages. There's a way out through the kitchens."
Elira looked around her chambers. This room where she'd slept for five years. The books on her shelves, the embroidered cushions, the view of the gardens she'd planted. Her crown, sitting on its velvet stand.
Her prison.
"If they find out you helped me"
"Then they find out." Sara's jaw set with determination. "You've been kind to me when no one else was. You're the only one in this palace who treats servants like people. I won't let them kill you."
Elira pulled Sara into a fierce embrace. "Thank you."
"We need to go. Now."
Elira grabbed the cloak and pulled it on, her hands shaking. She took one last look at her crown the symbol of everything she'd tried to be, everything she'd failed to protect.
Then she followed Sara into the dark passages between the walls.
Behind them, the door to her gilded cage stood open.
She would never return.