Markham's manor.
The Markham mansion stands like a monument carved from wealth and history.
Towering archways crowned with gold filigree frame windows draped in velvet the color of crushed rubies.
White marble lions guard the staircases at the entrance, and ivy snakes up pillars that line the expansive estate.
The air smells of roses and ancient coins—a scent only the rich seem to own.
The walls are etched with gold-leaf murals telling tales of valor and wealth, and chandeliers hang like frozen galaxies from every ceiling.
The Markhams are not just noble—they are untouchable, the richest family in Eldrid.
One can say they are the kingdom's royalty in all but name.
In the eastern wing of the mansion, Emilia Markham stirs from her slumber.
Sunlight filters through her velvet curtains. Pooling like molten gold across her bed.
She stretches lazily, her silken sheets falling away from her shoulders as golden sunlight filters through the diamond-cut glass windows.
She blinks groggily, shielding her eyes, then clears her throat.
"June! Alice!" she calls out.
Still sleepy, Emilia moves to sit in
Crossing to the vanity table, she sits in a golden chair with carved lion heads on the arms, she closes her eyes briefly, the breeze brushing against her delicate skin.
She reaches her hand out and pours herself a glass of water from a gilded pitcher.
She blows gently on it before taking a sip, then crosses her legs, revealing flawless porcelain skin kissed with the sun.
Her maids rush in moments later, dropping to their knees in perfect sync with their heads bowed.
Emilia nods once, and Alice immediately moves behind her to begin massaging her shoulders, while June remains kneeling in front of her, nervous.
"What time is it?" Emilia asks, voice still coated in sleep.
"Almost one in the afternoon, my lady," June replies, taking the empty glass and filling it anew.
June hesitates, eyes cast low.
"My lady…"
Emilia sighs.
"Just say it."
"We've received word... the discussion of your marriage to the king has been finalized in court today."
The glass nearly lips from Emilia's fingers.
"What?!" she breathes, rising to her feet, her voice echoing in the high-ceilinged chamber.
"How could that happen?"
Neither maid has an answer for her.
Of course, they all knew this marriage was a possibility. Ever since Queen Henrietta's mysterious death three months ago, everyone has been whispering that she is to become the next Queen.
Her family, among others is the only one left who hasn't honored the decree.
But Emilia had begged her father—demanded, even—that he do everything in his power to keep her away from the palace.
"Where did you hear this?" Emilia demands.
"The servants were whispering," Alice replies.
"And... the Queen Mother has invited her and the matriarch to the palace for a banquet tonight." June adds.
Emilia sinks back into her chair, horror spreading across her face. Her heart pounds.
This cannot be happening.
She was never meant to be Queen, her name was listed as a candidate, yes-but she is the last in line, a mere formality because of the threaten of her family's wealth so she thought herself safe.
Until the Queens started dying one by one. Mysteriously.
Everyone blamed the dragon killed and sealed beneath the palace. Emilia wasn't so sure.
The King, she believes, is the true monster.
She is meant to be the matriarch of the Markham family, marrying a man into the family, not leaving it behind for the danger-filled palace.
June and Alice glance at each other, worried. The silence has stretched too long. Alice gently taps Emilia's arm.
"My lady… everyone is already at lunch, and your banquet dress has been prepared. Will you—"
"I'm not going," Emilia snaps, leaping to her feet.
"What?!" the maids gasp.
They've worked tirelessly, sewing her gown overnight, preparing every detail. And could only get off work a few minutes ago.
June dares to ask,
"May I know why, my lady?"
Emilia glares.
"Must I get your permission to make decisions now? I said I'm not going."
"Yes, my lady," they stammer, lowering their heads and back out of the room quickly, their fear as visible as the worry in their eyes.
No woman walks willingly into a marriage with the king-not after what's happened to his past Queens.
Emilia presses her fingers to her temple, pacing. She needs a way out. Her mind races for any excuse, any loophole…
Then it hits her.
She snatches her silver-embroidered fan from the table and storms out of her room, forgetting to change into a proper robe than the one which barely covers her.
She enters the main hall mid-lunch. Her father, Lord Markham sits at the head, surrounded by his three wives and her two stepbrothers, including Catherine, her stepsister.
Her own mother had died when giving birth to her and her father married Sophia two years after her mother's death but she was only able to conceive a female child, Catherine , and that has pushed her father to take in two other wives.
Both Margaret and Hannah gave birth to two sons each but Sophia's position as the Madam of the house wasn't threatened as she is from a very powerful family.
While Emilia, her mother's nanny raised her and Emilia never acknowledge any of the women here as her mother.
"Father," she says breathlessly.
Lord Markham blinks in disbelief as he looks up from his meal, scandalized.
"Emilia, what are you doing here like this?" he scolds.
"Go and change into proper clothes at once."
Whispers ripple through the family and Margaret, one of the concubine leans toward Sophia.
"What's she up to now?"
Although mortified as well, Sophia remains calm and turns to Emilia.
"You can't wear your bed attire out in the public, the servants are around."
She cautions and raises a hand towards her maid.
"Take her back..."
Emilia flicks open her fan, flashing it at the maid in warning.
"No one touches me."
The maids freeze in their tracks.
June and Alice hurry in with a blue cloak in their hands, and drape it over her quickly then stepped back. Her father glares at them.
"What were you doing when your mistress walked out like this?" Markham scolds them.
"Forgive us my lord," they cry out in unison, falling to their knees.
"Don't blame them," Emilia intervenes, striding forward to sit beside her father, but Catherine is there.
With a stare, Catherine stands reluctantly to give up the seat and Emilia sat down.
"Father," Emilia says.
"I want to get married."
The hall freezes and silence falls like a heavy curtain.
Even her maids glance at each other in shock. Her father stunned.
"You want to what?"
It has only been an hour since news reached them that the king might be planning to wed a new wife and Markham can't believe Emilia will accept the marriage so easily.
"Married?" Sophia repeats slowly and narrows her eyes.
She is already twenty and should have been married from the age of sixteen but because of the requirement she has placed for a husband, a lot of suitors has back off.
"To the King?"
"No. To Cornelius. I heard his proposal was rejected a few days ago."