Chapter 11: The Queen Dowager

Genevieve woke with a start, her body shivering against the cold dungeon floor.

She felt cold but couldn't do anything but wait.

The damp stone pressed against her back, sending chills up her spine. She had no idea how long she had been down here because of the darkness, but it felt like an eternity.

Her body ached from the uncomfortable position she had slept in, and her mind swirled with anger, fear, and exhaustion.

She was scared, her mind was filled with questions like what if the alpha let her die in the dungeon?

She was lost in thoughts but then she heard it.

The distant clang of iron doors slamming shut.

She sat up. The sound wasn't unusual, the dungeon was filled with prisoners, most of whom were enemies of the throne but something about it sent unease creeping through her bones.

Moments later, the echo of approaching footsteps filled the corridor. She held her breath as a guard appeared at her cell, his face impassive.

"Your father is gravely ill," he said flatly.

Genevieve felt her heart stop.

She scrambled to her feet. "What? What do you mean?"

"He collapsed in his cell early this morning. He hasn't woken up since."

Her stomach lurched.

"No." She shook her head. "No, that's not possible. He was fine, he was fine when I last saw him!"

"He's barely breathing." The guard's face remained blank.

No. No, this can't be happening.

"Take me to him," she pleaded. "Please."

"The King has not given permission…" The guard hesitated.

"I need to see him," she said stepping forward until her fingers curled around the iron bars. "You can tell your king that if he refuses to let me see my father, I will make his life a living nightmare."

A flicker of hesitation crossed the guard's face. Then, after a long pause, he unlocked the cell.

Genevieve rushed out and her legs were weak from exhaustion but she only had one goal.

Father.

Every step down the dungeon corridor felt agonizing. The scent of mildew clung to the air, and torches flickered dimly against the damp walls.

When she reached her father's cell, her breath caught.

He was curled on the ground, his frail body barely rising with each shallow breath. His once-strong hands now lay limp against the stone.

"Father?" Genevieve dropped to her knees and grasped his ice-cold hand.

He stirred slightly but didn't open his eyes.

Tears stung her eyes. "I'm here," she whispered. "Please, open your eyes."

Nothing.

Genevieve turned to the guard, her voice shaking. "What happened to him?"

The man didn't respond.

She felt a dangerous fire ignite in her chest. "Who did this?"

Silence.

Her jaw clenched. She already knew the answer.

She shot to her feet, her fury carrying her out of the dungeons before the guard could stop her.

He had no right to stop her.

"You swore he would be safe."

Genevieve stormed into Edric's chambers without knocking.

Edric sat behind his desk, reading over a letter, his golden eyes scanning the words with an expression of indifference. He didn't even flinch at her intrusion.

"I don't recall making any promises," he said coolly, still not looking up.

Genevieve slammed her hands against the desk. "You swore my father would be safe!"

Finally, he lifted his gaze, his expression was unreadable. "And he is."

"He is dying." Her breathing was ragged

Edric leaned back, regarding her with calm amusement. "That is an exaggeration, don't you think?"

"You're a monster." Genevieve clenched her fists.

He exhaled, resting his chin on his knuckles. "I had nothing to do with your father's condition. His sickness is his own."

"You expect me to believe that?" She let out a bitter laugh as those words came out.

"I don't expect anything from you, little black." His voice was quiet, almost… tired. "Believe what you will."

Genevieve's throat tightened. She wanted to believe him.

But how could she?

Her father was suffering. And here Edric sat completely unbothered.

Her nails dug into her palms as she turned on her heel.

She needed to find out the truth for herself.

Genevieve knew the palace was filled with spies.

The Queen Dowager, Lady Evelyne, and countless others wanted her gone.

And one of them had just made their move.

Late that night, as she lay in her chambers, restless and furious, a whisper of movement caught her attention.

A shadow darted through the corridor outside her door.

Genevieve tensed.

She silently slipped out of bed, her bare feet padding across the floor. Peeking into the hallway, she spotted a maid, one of Evelyne's loyalists sneaking away.

Something small and crumpled peeked out from her hand.

A letter.

Genevieve's breath hitched.

That wasn't just any letter.

It was hers.

Heart pounding, she followed the maid through the halls, careful to keep her steps silent.

The woman slipped into a hidden passageway, vanishing behind a tapestry.

Genevieve hesitated.

Then, taking a steadying breath, she followed.

She pressed against the cold stone wall, peeking around the corner.

The maid knelt before a robed figure.

The Queen Dowager.

"I have it, Your Majesty," the maid whispered, holding up the stolen letter.

Genevieve's stomach turned.

The Queen Dowager took the letter, scanning the contents before smirking.

"This will do perfectly," she murmured.

The maid nodded. "It proves that she had a secret affair before her engagement."

The Queen Dowager's smirk widened. "Then it's time we show the world exactly who Genevieve Montclair really is."

Genevieve's blood ran cold.

They were going to use the letter against her.

And she had no idea how to stop them.

The next morning, Genevieve barely had time to react before a group of royal guards burst into her chambers.

"By order of the Crown, Genevieve Montclair is under arrest for high treason," the captain declared.

Genevieve's heart stopped.

"What?"

The guards advanced with their hands resting on their swords.

"Do not resist my lady."

Shock coursed through her. "This is madness, on what grounds?"