A breathless hush fell over the hall — the kind of silence that pressed against the skin, thick and waiting. Even the flicker of the candelabras seed to still, as though fla itself dared not move. All eyes were on , but their weight felt strangely distant, muffled beneath the pounding of my own pulse.
The Queen’s face was unreadable, carved from the sa marble as the pillars behind her. Her hands rested lightly on the arms of her throne–she had returned after throwing the gauntlet–but I could feel the force of her gaze on ; it was sharp, assessing, heavy with sothing I couldn’t na.
I could hear the murmurs starting in the far corners, low as a snake’s hiss.
"They’re saying she’s mad," a voice hissed from sowhere to my left.
"No... bold," ca another, softer but sharp, as though the word itself might cut them.
"Bold will get her killed," soone murmured behind .
"She turned the Queen down..."
"Madness..."
"Or brilliance..."
"...never seen anything like it."
The voices tangled together, snippets of disbelief, suspicion, and grudging awe.
Sowhere, a goblet clinked too loudly against a plate, drawing a sharp look from a nobleman who seed terrified the sound might shatter whatever spell held the hall.
I swallowed and forced my spine straighter.
El, I called silently. Tell I’m doing the right thing; that what I’m thinking is not going to entrap and ruin my life.
Her voice ca warm and dry in my mind. Ruin? No. Complicate? Certainly. You may have gone a touch overboard... but it’s as I ntioned before... the Queen is too clever to destroy you now. She’ll act to keep her throne, and that ans acting in your favor.
I wasn’t sure whether that was ant to comfort . My pulse was still climbing. And if she decides I’m more of a threat than asset?
Then, El replied, her tone light as if discussing the weather, you run very, very fast.
A deep laugh followed that.
Seriously? Not exactly the reassurance I wanted.
I took a slow breath, stood up and spoke, my voice cutting clean through the whispers. I didn’t need to mount the centre stage.
"I ca here for justice. For my sister. For Zande. For every truth buried beneath velvet lies."
The words tasted like iron and wine. My gaze swept over the Queen’s remaining family — Hendel’s rigid form and clenched jaws, Raul’s narrowed eyes.
Beyond them, the Lycan King sat as if carved from night itself, his now golden eyes fixed on –must be the anger, unreadable but edged with danger. His sons yet flanked him — Adam’s mouth a thin line, Noah’s expression a flicker of sothing I couldn’t quite place.
Daniel, however, had a smile on his lips. A surprise. If I should take a guess, I would say he was proud of my minor accomplishnt.
"And now that justice has been served," I continued, "I am content. I do not wish to marry. I do not wish to rule. I only wish for peace."
For a mont, no one breathed. The pause stretched, aching, disbelieving. Even the banners above seed to hold their sway, as though the hall itself waited to see if my words would fracture the world.
Then, with deliberate care, I reached for my goblet and lifted it.
"But I do believe the Queen has done sothing remarkable tonight. She has taken fire and bent it to rcy. She has upheld justice. That, I will honor."
I turned to the crowd, letting my voice rise. "To the Queen."
There was a murmur — hesitant, confused — then it swelled.
"To the Queen!" voices answered back, louder this ti.
Goblets lifted. Toasts echoed. Wine splashed across polished tables. For a heartbeat, it felt almost like any other celebration. Almost.
In the midst of it, I caught a change in the Queen’s expression. Not gratitude. Not pride.
Recognition. She knew what I’d done.
I had stolen the weight of the throne — the attention, the respect, the narrative — and then refused to carry it. I had left her holding it again, but under a light she hadn’t chosen.
I had refused to be a pawn in her ga.
El’s voice curled through my mind, warm and amused. You could’ve taken it all. Power was yours for the asking.
I never wanted power, I replied silently. Only truth.
Still, El murmured, you might consider learning how to wear poise like the Queen does. It suits her. And you will need it more than you know.
I frowned inwardly. What do you an?
El didn’t answer. The connection was there — I could feel her — but she remained silent, as if weighing her words. The lack of reply tightened sothing in my chest.
El, I pushed again. What do you an? My ntal voice softened. Please...
The quiet stretched. Then finally: Soon, you will be the seat of power, Maya. Whether you wish it or not.
That was all.
I waited for more, for the explanation that should follow, but nothing ca. Frustration bubbled up, sharp and hot. You can’t just drop that and vanish into silence.
When she still didn’t answer, I shut the connection with more force than necessary. The absence left an ache.
Around , the hall was coming alive again, the earlier tension dissolving into cautious chatter, the clink of plates and the rustle of silks. As if nothing monuntal had just happened. As if lives hadn’t been changed in the space of a few breaths.
My appetite vanished. The roasted ats, sugared fruits, and fragrant wines before might as well have been ash. The weight of El’s words pressed at from the inside, heavy with unknowns I could neither escape nor solve.
Why was my life so mysterious? Who am I?
I was still turning them over in my mind when a small figure approached the platform. A girl — perhaps thirteen — dressed in the pale green of a palace attendant, bowed slightly before speaking.
"My lady," she said softly, "soone requests your presence outside."
The answer was out of my mouth before I’d thought it through. "No." My tone was sharper than I intended, but I didn’t care. The last ti soone had "requested my presence" during a feast, I’d nearly ended up dead.
The girl blinked, hesitating. "It’s one of the princes, my lady. From the Lycan King’s court."
That gave pause. My first thought was Adam.
I looked to the platform where the three troublemakers had been earlier, but they were nowhere to be found.
Suspicion and curiosity tangled in my gut. In the end, curiosity won. I rose, my fingers brushing the hidden pulse of my magic. It was there, coiled and ready, a promise of defense should anything go wrong.
As I followed her toward the side doors, anticipation twisted through , mixing with a thread of unease. The air outside was cool, night having fully claid the sky. The scent of damp stone and distant pine drifted on the breeze. Moonlight spilled across the palace courtyard, painting the cobblestones silver.
Then I saw him.
Noah.
He stood near the edge of the torchlight, tall and broad-shouldered, dressed in dark blues that deepened the gold tint in his hair. His posture was easy, but there was a magnetic stillness about him, the kind that drew the gaze and held it. The night air stirred a strand of hair across his brow, and when his eyes t mine, the rest of the courtyard seed to fade.
I walked toward him slowly, every step asured. My magic stayed close to the surface, ready.
"What do you want?" I asked, my voice quieter than I expected.
He didn’t answer at once. Instead, he studied , as though morizing the way the moonlight traced my face. When he spoke, his voice was low, roughened at the edges.
"I’ve been watching you since the mont you walked into that hall," he said. "Not the way others watch, waiting for you to fall. I’ve watched because I can’t look anywhere else."
A pause.
"Dora, You speak like soone who’s lived a hundred lives and survived them all. You carry wounds like jewels — not hidden, but worn as proof that you endured." His gaze swept , unhurried but without disrespect. "You are unlike anyone I have ever known, Dora. And yet you make it seem like we’ve crossed paths before."
The words caught off guard. My heart kicked hard against my ribs. What was the quiet son of the lycan king doing?
"I ca here tonight for one reason," Noah continued, stepping closer, the scent of leather and wild earth surrounding him. "Not to negotiate, not to posture like my father, not to play court gas like my brothers. I ca to tell you that I..." His mouth curved faintly, as though the word felt too small. "That I want you. Not your magic, not your na. You."
I drew a slow breath, steadying myself. "Noah..." I shook my head. "Whatever you think you feel, it’s misplaced. I can’t—won’t—be part of whatever political sche this is."
His jaw tightened. "This isn’t politics."
"It’s always politics," I said, turning to go.
His hand caught my arm — firm, but not bruising. I froze, every nerve alert. His eyes searched mine once more, then, without another word, he drew toward him and kissed .
It wasn’t gentle. It was fire — sudden, searing, consuming. My magic flared instinctively, but instead of pushing him away, it tangled with the heat of the kiss, sparking in my veins. The world narrowed to the press of his mouth, the steady strength in his grip, the wild drum of my pulse.
When I finally tore free, breathless, I stepped back, heart pounding. My magic still humd, coiled and restless. "Don’t do that again," I said, though my voice betrayed the tremor running through .
His answering smile was small but certain. "I make no promises."
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