Chapter 3
I just nodded and kept quiet.
I knew whatever I said right now would only make things worse.
I was just a joke in this palace.
A maid came over with a basin of water and gave a perfunctory bow.
"Your Highness, it's time to wash up," she said.
Her attitude was even worse than how the lowest servant girl in my family was ever treated.
I silently washed up and slipped out of that glaring wedding dress.
The maid handed me a plain white robe, the kind worn in the palace.
Not a single pattern adorned it.
This was the color reserved for the lowest servants in the palace.
I snickered inwardly.
Were they trying to make it obvious to everyone that I was unwanted here?
"His Majesty is awake," Immanuel called out in a shrill voice.
I immediately lowered my head and stood respectfully to the side.
Sheldon walked out from the inner chamber, wearing a bright yellow robe meant for daily wear.
He didn't even look at me, heading straight for the dining table.
"Your Majesty, it's time to eat," Immanuel announced.
Immanuel served the dishes with fawning care, eager to please.
The table was piled high with rare delicacies, their mouthwatering aroma filling the room.
I hadn't had a single drop of water or bite of food since yesterday noon, and my stomach let out a small growl.
It wasn't loud, but in the quiet hall, it was especially noticeable.
Sheldon paused while picking up his food.
He looked up and gave me a cold glance.
"Hungry, are you?" Sheldon asked, his tone icy.
I kept my head down, too afraid to say anything.
"Come here," he said coldly.
I hesitated, but eventually walked over.
"Did you lose your tongue?" Sheldon snapped.
"Yes," I murmured, barely audible.
He scoffed.
He sneered, then picked up a delicate pastry.
It was the sweet osmanthus cake I used to love.
He brought the pastry right to my mouth.
"If you want it, get on your knees," Sheldon said.
I froze.
The maids and eunuchs kept their heads down, but their shoulders trembled with barely suppressed laughter.
Humiliation surged over me like a wave.
I bit down hard on my lip, my nails digging deep into my palm.
'Sheldon, do you really have to torment me like this?' I thought to myself.
"What? Not willing?" Sheldon said, his voice carrying a hint of impatience.
His tone was laced with impatience.
"Looks like the Ferguson family's daughter isn't as obedient as everyone says," Sheldon sneered.
He mentioned the Ferguson family.
My heart clenched.
I couldn't let the Ferguson family get implicated.
I took a deep breath and slowly knelt down.
The sound of my knees hitting the floor was sharp and clear.
"That's more like it," Sheldon said, a satisfied smile spreading across his face.
He tossed the osmanthus cake onto the floor, as if he were throwing scraps to a dog.
"Eat it," he ordered. "This is what your Emperor grants you."
The pastry was now covered in dust, dirty and unfit to eat.
I couldn't hold back my tears anymore; they fell one after another, landing quietly on the floor.
Five years ago, he fed me cake too, but it was nothing like this.
Back then, we sat beneath the peach blossom tree, and he'd smile, saying, "Samara is such a greedy kitten. You should eat more."
Five years later, everything was different.
Now, he forced me to kneel and eat the scraps he'd tossed to the floor.
"What? Is it too filthy for you?" Sheldon said.
His tone grew even colder.
"Eat it. When your Emperor commands, you obey," he snapped.
I shut my eyes, my hands shaking as I picked up the osmanthus cake from the floor.
Bit by bit, I put it into my mouth.
The taste of dust and tears mixed together, bitter and harsh.
I swallowed it, forcing myself not to spit it out.
Sheldon let out a loud, unrestrained laugh.
He laughed without holding back, clearly enjoying my humiliation.
But deep down, there was something almost tragic in his laughter, though I couldn't really say why.
"Make sure you remember how you look right now," Sheldon said coldly."You, Samara, are just a dog groveling at my feet. Live when I say live. Die when I say die."
With that, he got up and stormed out, his robe billowing behind him without a backward glance.
"Your Majesty, you'll be late for the morning assembly!" Immanuel rushed after him, calling out.
The huge palace felt emptier than ever, with only me left behind.
I knelt on the floor, staring at the feast laid out before me, my stomach twisting in knots.
With a gag, I vomited up the osmanthus cake I'd just forced myself to eat.
A young maid named Livia Summers couldn't stand it anymore. She quietly slipped me a piece of bread and a cup of water.
"Your Highness, please eat a little. Don't let yourself go hungry," she whispered.
I gave her a grateful nod, my eyes shining with thanks.
In this icy palace, this was probably the only warmth left for me.
As I gnawed on the tough, dry bun, my mind kept wandering.
If Sheldon despised me so much, why not just finish me off?
Why did he keep me around, only to put me through all this pain?
When he made me suffer, did it really make him happy?
I had no idea.
I chose this road myself, and now I had to live with it.