Chapter 37 Thorns Beneath The Crown
The palace had never felt so cold.
Sana stood in the Queen’s corridor, her eyes tracing the delicate engravings along the golden pillars. Hatim had only been gone for three days. But without him, the place that once felt like a dream now pressed down on her like a gilded prison.
Queen Roshni didn’t waste time.
On the very night of his departure, she summoned Sana.
Not with honor.
But with guards.
---
The grand court was empty when Sana arrived.
Except for Roshni.
She sat on the throne meant for judgment, draped in black and emerald silk, her crown casting long shadows on the floor. There were no courtiers, no nobles—just silence and her sharp gaze.
"You think wearing his name makes you untouchable?" Roshni began.
Sana stood tall, chin high. "No. But being his wife means I deserve respect."
Roshni laughed, cold and bitter.
"You deserve nothing. You are a common girl draped in royal silks. And now that my son is away, let me show you what that means."
She clapped once.
The doors creaked open.
Four maids entered, but these were not Sana's usual attendants. They looked like guards dressed as servants, and their eyes held no kindness.
"Strip her of the queen's veil."
Sana took a step back. "You wouldn't dare."
Roshni's voice cut like a blade. "I dare everything."
The maids approached. Sana tried to fight, but they were too many. They pulled the veil from her head, unclasped her jewelry, and tore the border of her dupatta.
Her screams echoed through the empty court.
---
They didn’t harm her body that day.
But they shredded her dignity.
From that night on, her chambers were moved to the eastern servant wing—the farthest corner of the palace, where even light was rare. Her fine gowns were taken. She was given plain cotton robes.
Her food was brought late.
Sometimes, not at all.
Meher tried to help. She was caught and punished—confined to the healer's room for a week.
Sana said nothing.
She endured.
---
One morning, Roshni arrived in her chamber unannounced. Two guards flanked her.
"Wake up," she ordered. "You sleep like a princess, but you have work to do."
"What work?"
Roshni smirked.
"The temple floors are dirty. The garden needs tending. If you’re going to act like a servant girl, you should become one."
And so, Sana—once crowned and bowed to—was handed a broom.
The nobles watched in hushed awe as she swept the palace corridors. The same hands Hatim had kissed now bore calluses.
---
Her body broke.
But her spirit didn’t.
Every day, she whispered Hatim’s name under her breath like a prayer.
He’ll come back. He’ll see. He’ll understand.
But every night, the silence answered instead.
---
The worst came on the ninth day.
She was ordered to the prayer hall, where Roshni waited with three priests.
"You are to renounce your claim to the throne," one of them declared. "Publicly."
Sana’s voice was dry. "Why now?"
Roshni stepped forward. "Because the court cannot risk a fraud. And neither can I."
They forced her to her knees.
"Say it," Roshni hissed. "Say you were a mistake."
Sana looked up, eyes hollow. "I was not a mistake. But I see now—I was never wanted."
The priests nodded.
One of them raised his staff, marking her forehead with ash.
"Let her walk the courtyard until dusk. Barefoot."
Sana did.
Blood stained the marble with every step.
---
That night, she returned to her room in silence.
Her feet were torn. Her lips chapped. Her hair tangled.
She crawled into her cot—not a bed anymore—and pressed her fingers to her heart.
> "Hatim," she whispered. "Come back soon. I don’t know how much longer I can wait."
The stars outside didn’t answer.
But one fell, far away.
And in the heavens, something stirred.
---
?? Author’s Note:
This one… hurt to write ??
Chapter 37 showed us just how cruel silence can be—and how dangerous power becomes in the wrong hands. Watching Sana suffer while Hatim’s gone? It’s agony. But don’t forget—she’s the girl born of shadows and stars.
This is her breaking point… and her becoming point.
Stick with me, bestie. Chapter 38 will dig even deeper, but a storm is coming—and it won’t spare the guilty.?