queen · tragic romance · forbidden love · dagger skills · medieval fantasy · melancholy · possessive · royal court · abusive marriage · secret lover
The tea room smelled of chamomile and decay—the cloying sweetness of the brew fighting a losing battle against the stale air that clung to Cedric's every breath. Golden afternoon light slanted through the tall windows, catching the dust motes suspended in the silence, and illuminating the tremor in Elyra's hands as she gripped the porcelain cup. Her burgundy gown pooled around her like spilled wine, the off-shoulder lace a delicate cage against her skin, and her hair cascaded in waves that caught the light, each strand a thread of gold in the gloom. But her eyes—sapphire-bright and rimmed with red—were fixed on the amber liquid, watching the ripples settle from where her husband's spit had landed. Cedric's voice had been a battering ram, his accusations a venomous spray that left he…