[Third Person].
A murmur of agreent stirred. One of the widows spoke up quietly. "If not for her... so of our leaders would be dead."
That truth spread across the gathering like steady light. Another woman nodded slowly. "If she were dangerous to us, she would have let the vampires take the throne."
A few chuckles followed. The fear began dissolving.
Helena pressed gently at the final place. "Instead of fearing a powerful Queen," she said, "perhaps we should be grateful we have one."
The silence that followed was no longer tense; rather, it was reflective. Then, unexpectedly, one of the older won began softly chanting, "Long live the Queen."
Another joined. Then another. Though their voices were not loud, it was sincere.
Helena felt the tension in her chest finally loosen. She had not forced any loyalty to the Queen. She had simply reminded them of the truth.
By the end of the gathering, conversations had shifted from suspicion to admiration. The won began repeating the narrative differently:
"Our Queen saved them."
"The Moon Goddess approved her."
"Stormveil is safer with strength."
And as always, it was the won who carried stories into hos. Within days, market whispers began changing tone, and the fear lost its edge. It did not disappear entirely, but it no longer dominated.
And when word reached the palace that the atmosphere among the common won had softened, redith finally allowed herself to breathe. She sent for Helena that evening.
When Helena arrived, redith rose and embraced her without hesitation.
"I heard of the new narratives about ," redith said warmly. "You have done well. Thank you."
Helena smiled. "Won speak. I rely redirected them."
redith’s eyes softened with gratitude. "I owe you."
Helena shook her head gently. "You trusted ."
anwhile, outside the palace walls, the story had shifted. And this ti, it was not fear spreading, but pure loyalty.
***
~Carter Residence~
Gabriel Carter had been waiting for a response since he sent a letter off to his mother, questioning her identity and her choice to keep it from him.
When the ssenger finally arrived that afternoon, he did not even pretend to be calm. He dismissed the servant, broke the seal on the envelope himself, and unfolded the letter with tight fingers.
Alas! To his greatest shock, the paper was blank. Not a single word or letter was written on it. His jaw clenched.
For a long mont, he simply stared at the empty sheet, as if words might suddenly appear out of guilt, but nothing did.
His mother had received his letter. And this was what she sent him as a response. Silence.
A slow heat climbed up his neck. To him, it felt deliberate. Dismissive. As though she had read his questions about her identity, about redith, about fae blood, and decided he was unworthy of an answer.
"So this is how little I matter to her," he muttered under his breath.
Margaret, who had been watching from across the room, frowned slightly. "Perhaps there is more to it—"
Gabriel folded the paper sharply. "There is nothing more to it. If she wished to answer, she would have."
Though he did not know that so letters required more than eyes to read, he did not pause long enough to consider that possibility.
Instead, pride swallowed curiosity, and the blank page burned in his hand like an insult.
Yet, it was still uncertain whether his mother replied to him using her secret thods or if she simply sent a plain sheet of paper.
---
At the Fellowes Estate, the mood was far less restrained.
Reginald paced his study, fingers clasped behind his back, while Wanda stood near the window, her arms folded tightly across her chest.
"The narrative is shifting," Reginald said flatly. "Faster than I anticipated."
Wanda’s jaw hardened. "It shouldn’t have. The people were afraid."
"They were," Reginald agreed. "Until soone redirected that fear."
"Those people really worked overti on this case." Wanda exhaled in frustration. "And by now, Draven must already be investigating who spread the rumours."
Reginald finally stopped pacing and looked at her. "At least," he said slowly, "we will not be implicated."
Then, he moved toward his desk and poured himself a drink. "On the contrary," he continued, "you and Levi will likely receive recognition soon for protecting civilians during the vampire attack."
Wanda blinked as her father allowed himself a small, satisfied smile.
"The King cannot ignore public acts of loyalty. And recognition from the throne, even a small one, begins to repair reputation." He said and lifted his glass slightly.
"Depending on how generous he is, our family na may begin rising again. And our nobility status can be restored with ti."
Wanda’s anger cooled into calculation as she smirked faintly. "Then I will make sure my next public appearance is even more impressive."
Reginald nodded approvingly. "That is my daughter."
But neither of them noticed how thin the ice beneath them had beco. Draven was not blind, and he was not forgetful.
---
On the other hand, disappointnt hung heavily in the sitting room of the Carter residence that evening.
Monique tossed aside her shawl with irritation. "Those gullible people have started praising her again."
Gary leaned back in his chair, scowling. "Unbelievable."
Mabel stood near the tea table, staring into her cup as though it had personally offended her.
"She should have fallen," Monique muttered. "This was the perfect opportunity."
Gary huffed. "She’s lucky." He looked up at the others and added, "Lucky to have a mate like Draven. Any other King would have distanced himself by now."
Mabel scoffed sharply. "He is actually abusing his authority. That’s what this is. The Elders can’t challenge him anymore."
Her tone was sharp, but beneath it, sothing darker stirred. Frustration and humiliation. Her plan had been flawless. The rumour had spread like wildfire, and yet redith remained untouched. She was still Queen, still protected, and still rising.
Mabel’s fingers tightened around her cup. "She won’t stay lucky forever," she muttered.
Neither Monique nor Gary noticed the flicker of unease that passed briefly across her face. And none of them knew that beyond the walls of their comfortable estate, the King of Stormveil had already ordered a quiet investigation.
Draven was patient, but he was hunting. And when he found the origin of the rumours, rcy would not be part of the conversation.
Reviews
All reviews (0)