Three years passed.
Ariana sat in the middle of the council, her expression as neutral as ever. The leaders refused to say a word. At this point, if they had ever said a woman was not supposed to lead, they had been entirely wrong—because the queen had not even spoken yet, and here they were, trembling like chickens doused with hot water.
One of the elders finally spoke quietly.
"We have not brought this up in a long ti, for years now, and we have co together to give so advice."
He stood with a bow. Ariana said nothing. They all looked at each other, wondering if her silence ant to go on or to stop talking. Curiosity filled the air until one of them stood, waiting for the queen’s order.
Ariana sat in the room, one hand tapping ever so slowly on the paper as her foot rested calmly on the floor. The council mbers stared—the way she just sat there, one hand tapping, already made their hearts race with fear.
This was exactly what the king used to do whenever he felt a zeal to kill. But they knew the queen—her silence ant she was in deep thought. Still, they could not help it; it always felt dangerous.
Finally, her cold expression cald lightly, as if she had found a redy to what she had been thinking deeply about. She moved her gaze from the paper to the council mbers, staring at the man who stood.
"What was it you said?" she asked calmly.
The man turned to the elder who had first spoken, who gave him a look to go on. He had unknowingly been saved by the queen’s silence.
"My queen, Luna Ariana, we all gathered here together for important advice we need to tell you. It has been years now, and we finally realized we should not keep it any longer."
"Oh, really?" Ariana stared at the man in surprise as the atmosphere turned cold and suffocating. His shoulders trembled under the sharp gaze of the queen. The other council mbers stared at each other in shock, then turned to the queen.
"I had no idea you all held a special eting after I already had mine with you." She moved the pen to her chin, thinking deeply.
"How co you did not say it to then—having it, keeping it, and only telling now?... Tell , what is your intention?" Her golden eyes blazed coldly, and the man’s hands grew sweaty.
Not that Ariana ever minded them having a special eting she was not part of, but at least she needed to be aware of it—not the details, just the fact that they had a eting.
"I apologize on behalf of everyone," he imdiately spoke with a bow, while Ariana just stared at him boredly.
"Go on. This better be worth the so-called secret eting."
The man gulped. He could not find the words anymore. It had been a little easy when they had planned it, but now, standing before the queen, it was harder than he had thought.
They had wanted to say this to the queen earlier, as curiosity had long eaten at them. But now, after years of planning, the man could not even bring himself to speak. His hands shook as he sat down. Who would have thought a woman could possess such an intimidating aura without doing anything?
Another elder stood, unwilling to keep the queen waiting.
He finally spoke.
"It is about your husband, King Zavren."
The mont those words left his lips, Ariana’s body stilled—utterly unmoving. Silence fell as no one dared speak.
To their surprise, she smiled. A calm, gentle smile as she laced her hands together and elegantly rested her chin atop them.
"Tell more. I am intrigued. What does my handso husband have to do with your special eting?" she asked ever so softly. But those soft words sent louder warning bells than any sharp tone ever could.
"Y... yes, we were th... thinking," the man stuttered, trying to regain his voice.
"We were thinking if it is possible to tell us what happened that day at the war that led to your husband..." He stopped short, unable to complete his words. Those golden eyes of hers spoke volus, choking his last words in his throat like a lump.
"You know I don’t fill in the gaps. Complete your statent... Mr. Matthew, is it?" She gave him a piercing gaze.
The man’s eyes widened. The council mbers stared at him in shock as well. They had always known him as Mr. Matt—never Matthew. The council was usually identified by face, not by na. Elders were few, and the royals rarely bothered to rember nas. That was what made it more terrifying—how did the queen know?
The man’s body shook. The queen had not even moved, yet by simply calling his na, she had stolen his voice. He could not speak. He had never told anyone his real na here.
Another elder stood with a bow as the man sat down in shock. That was the rule: if one elder failed to speak, another had to stand in his place to avoid delay.
"My queen, we asked because we were worried about you..."
Ariana’s lips parted, and laughter spilled out. But what made it terrifying was that it wasn’t cold or heartless—it was graceful, soft, almost lodic. And yet, it struck fear in them more than any heartless laugh ever could.
"Worried about ?" she repeated softly. "It seems you have forgotten to be realistic. Many died during the war. Have you visited their families for condolences? Sent them even a letter? Given them anything?"
Her words grew sharper as she sat upright, leaning back in her chair, one leg crossing over the other.
"Yet you co here worried about my husband, who is not even dead. Tell , what are your intentions, Mr. Green? Or better still, let ask you all—have any of you gone to et the wives of the fallen soldiers, even once?"
Silence. Then, slowly, they all shook their heads.
Ariana laughed softly again.
"And you gladly call yourselves elders of the royal council?" Her voice was calm, but it silenced them completely.
"Before you ask any questions, do what is right. It is not too late to make the right decision. eting dismissed."
Her tone was final. They all bowed respectfully.
Ariana stood, her expression calm, and walked away.
Just as she stepped out, Raven stood waiting with a respectful bow. Ariana walked on, Raven following calmly. Even if her expression gave nothing away, he could tell the queen was feeling down.
"Cancel any other etings for today," she ordered. Raven bowed and left.
Ariana walked toward the entrance, but her vision blurred. She pressed one hand against the wall for support while the other rested against her forehead.
As she took another step forward, her vision blurred again as her knees weakened.
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