chapter 8

Anastasia retraced her steps through the narrow alley, reflecting on the words of the elderly woman. Upon reaching the alley's end, which opened onto a small road leading to the church, she hastily returned to the back side of the cottage, carefully observing her surroundings. Fortunately, she found that no one was present at that moment. Entering the room with trepidation, she closed the door quietly behind her. However, upon turning around, she was taken aback to find Sebastian leaning against the wall near the front door, his expression grave and his eyes filled with anger. This was a countenance she had never witnessed before from Sebastian, instilling in her a profound sense of fear. A silence enveloped them as they regarded one another, and although Anastasia felt the urge to retreat in shame, her pride prevented her from doing so.

 "Please change your attire quickly; it is time to return," Sebastian instructed in a brusque tone before exiting through the front door. Anastasia remained momentarily perplexed by his words.

 The journey back to the palace proved more taxing than the queen had anticipated. Lord Sebastian, accompanied by his guards, led the queen's carriage alongside the palace guards. Following their return from the church cottage, Sebastian refrained from inquiring about her well-being or directing any glances her way. His demeanor had shifted to one of seriousness and intensity, and the decision to escort the queen back to the palace appeared to be made abruptly.

 "Why did he not ask anything? He is clearly upset. I can sense it. What must he be thinking of me now? What should I do if he informs the king?" Anastasia's mind was inundated with such thoughts as she travelled in the carriage. Julia, observing her mistress's anxious expression and trembling legs, felt a sense of foreboding.

 Upon arriving at the Queen's palace, Anastasia disembarked from the carriage. There, Lord Sebastian and the guards awaited her near their horses. Although she wished to evade him and enter the palace without delay, she found herself unable to do so. The queen approached the guards, expressing her gratitude while deliberately avoiding Sebastian's gaze. The guards beamed with delight at the queen's acknowledgement, but as Anastasia turned to enter the palace, she could still feel Sebastian's intense gaze, which persisted even as she neared the main entrance. Sebastian, in a foul mood, observed the queen's retreating figure, his mind racing with questions and his inner turmoil simmering with anger, yet he could not divert his gaze from her silhouette until she vanished from view.

As the day transitioned into evening, the Queen returned to her bedchamber, feeling the weight of exhaustion from spending the day outdoors and engaging in a clandestine adventure. Anastasia yearned to recline on her bed and momentarily escape her troubles; however, her attendant, Julia, urged her to take a bath before resting. Julia proceeded to remove the queen's hair ornaments, allowing her long hair to cascade down to her hips. They began to unfasten her dress in the subdued lighting.

 Suddenly, the door to the queen's bedchamber swung open with a loud noise. Julia rushed out of the dressing room to investigate the commotion. Upon opening the door that connected the dressing room to the bedroom, she was taken aback in shock. Her voice faltered as she beheld the man standing before her, who entered the dressing room, inadvertently stepping on Julia's maid dress while searching for the queen.

 With a single motion, he overturned the large dressing screen, revealing the queen, who was clutching her partially disrobed gown.

"Your Majesty!" Anastasia exclaimed in astonishment. Demetrius, his face contorted with anger and exuding a menacing aura, stood there, gritting his teeth. In an instinctive reaction, Anastasia turned towards the wall to shield her exposed front, which was partially covered by her gown. The outer layer of her dress, adorned with delicate lace, was half-open at the back, and her petticoat and corset were also loosened, exposing her skin down to her hip line. The front of her dress and corset hung loosely due to her ample figure, causing the upper portion of her blossom to protrude.

 "Your Majesty, please step outside," Anastasia implored, her embarrassment visible. In a fit of rage, Demetrius clenched his fist and struck the wall near the queen's face. He remained close to her, his breath warm against her hair. Given that Anastasia's height barely reached below Demetrius's shoulder, the visual dynamic evoked a sense of predator and prey. The moment lingered in silence as his rapid breathing gradually calmed in her scent. Stepping back slightly, he gained a full view of her in the dim light. The sight of her trembling form, cascading hair, and luminous pale skin softened the fierce expression in his eyes.

The king inquired, "Where did you go today in disgust?" while attempting to maintain a neutral expression. However, he received no response from Anastasia, who stood silently before him.

 "Did you believe you could evade me? What scheme are you devising this time?" Demetrius, feeling a sense of betrayal, struggled to suppress his rising anger, took deep breaths to regain his composure.

 "You are mistaken, Your Majesty. I am not attempting to escape. Please, believe me," Anastasia implored, her fingers gripping the wall for support.

 "Believe you? Given your current demeanor?" he retorted, skepticism evident in his tone.

 "Where did you go today? Did you meet your secret lover?"

 Anastasia winced at his words, biting her lower lip in pain. She turned to face him, clutching her garments tightly to her body, her eyes reflecting her inner turmoil. Even in the dim light, he could discern her bare shoulders and the upper portion of her chest.

 "If you despise me so profoundly, why not simply take this position from me? I am not even your wife," she responded, her voice laced with animosity.

 "Be cautious with your words in my presence," Demetrius retorted, his anger palpable.

 "Why? What have I said that is incorrect? Why must I endure this existence? Just kill me already; no one would oppose you," she exclaimed, tears streaming down her face.

 "Anastasia!" the king called her name, his voice tinged with fury.

 Anastasia lowered her head in silence, resembling a defeated combatant. Demetrius observed his weeping wife, feeling powerless to intervene. As she sobbed, her chest rose and fell with labored breaths. At that moment, rather than feeling anger or distress, the king's gaze shifted to her tears and fragile form, evoking a new and unfamiliar emotion within him. Her small face, flushed from crying, appeared diminutive in comparison to his stature, yet her delicate pink lips, along with her reddened nose and cheeks, stirred a desire to reach out to her. His eyes remained fixated on her exposed shoulders and upper chest, igniting a heat within him.