She Was Thrown to the Floor Until the King Saw Her Neck

Chapter 3: The Princess Who Had Everything to Lose

The royal hall was sealed before anyone could leave.

No one was allowed to carry messages outside. No one was allowed to call for private guards. The king ordered it himself. Then he had Elara brought to a smaller chamber beside the throne room, where only a handful of people were permitted to enter: Celeste, Marta, Lord Dorian, and the captain of the royal guard.

For the first time in her life, Elara sat on velvet instead of wood.

She hated it.

She looked across the room at Celeste, who stood near the window with her arms folded tightly across her chest. The beautiful princess no longer looked proud. She looked cornered.

"Why did you hit me?" Elara asked.

Celeste did not answer at first. When she finally spoke, her voice was flat.

"Because I thought you came to destroy me."

Elara stared at her. "I came to return a veil. I did not even know this place was part of me."

Celeste laughed bitterly. "That is the problem. You did not know, but other people did."

The king entered at that moment, holding a small wooden box. He opened it carefully. Inside was a painted miniature portrait of Princess Helena holding a newborn infant.

The baby's neck bore the faint red mark.

The king placed the portrait beside Elara's face.

There was no denying it now.

The same eyes. The same mouth. The same mark.

Elara was royal blood.

And because Helena had been the elder child, Elara's claim stood above Celeste's.

Lord Dorian stepped forward at once. "Your Majesty, blood alone is not enough. This girl was raised as a commoner. She is uneducated, untrained, and unknown to the council. The kingdom would never accept-"

"The kingdom," the king interrupted, "will accept the truth."

Dorian's expression hardened.

Celeste looked from the king to Elara, then to Dorian.

A terrible understanding slowly crossed her face.

"You knew," she said to him. "All these years, you knew."

Dorian did not deny it.

Celeste's voice lowered. "And you made me believe I was protecting the crown."

Elara watched her carefully. "Protecting it from me?"

Celeste turned to look at her. There were tears in her eyes now, but no softness.

"From uncertainty. From weakness. From losing everything."

That night, the king ordered Elara moved to the old east wing under guard until her identity could be formally declared.

But just before midnight, a servant slipped into her room with a tray of tea.

And whispered, "Do not drink anything in this palace unless you want to die before sunrise."