SAGE
Every eye in the tent turned toward , after Adam’s question, after his defense of why he had given a choice to choose.
The silence was almost alive—breathing, waiting. Even the night air that filtered through the open canopy felt charged, trembling between curiosity and fear. A beautiful sothing.
I liked that feeling. It was power. It was control beginning to take shape. It was plans beginning to fall in alignnt.
A soft smile curled on my lips as I let my gaze wander lazily over the crowd—faces stiff with expectation, a few turned away as if unwilling to et my eyes. Their discomfort was delicious, sating, arousing.
Then my gaze found him.
Adam.
For the first ti that evening, I really looked at him. Like really appraised him. The real King of the entire region—his brothers were just la figure heads, the male who had been watching like a challenge wrapped in silk since the gas.
He looked... annoyingly good. But then, was there ever a ti he wasn’t? Ever a ti he was caught ugly?
Broad shoulders that filled his royal jacket effortlessly, the embroidery glinting under the candlelight. His hair was slightly disheveled, like he’d run a hand through it one too many tis, and it made him look less like a king and more like the kind of trouble mothers warned daughters about.
His jaw was sharp, his lips set in that disciplined line of authority, but his eyes—those eyes were the problem.
They were fixed on , burning in a way that wasn’t purely political. There was hunger there, restrained and fierce, like a wolf pacing behind bars. One that has been barely concealed since my win over Darius. Worse, he wanted to notice it.
I knew it as much as I knew that look: not as an enemy, not quite as prey, but as sothing he didn’t yet understand and couldn’t ignore. Sothing he wanted. He wanted to know that he wanted . Just like six years ago.
And now, there it was again.
Did Adam really think I’d fall prey to whatever gas he was trying to play?
Please.
Things were way different now. Vastly different. I wasn’t dumb Maya or foolish Dora. I was Sage.
I chuckled softly, breaking whatever tension that lingered, and turned my gaze from him to Noah, then to Daniel—both wearing identical expressions of calm, and sothing else that looked suspiciously like jealousy. Sothing that barely lasted for a microsecond in their beautiful cold eyes.
Again? I held back a scoff. They should be happy that I wouldn’t pit them against each other. No, it would be worse. Much worse. Or should I?
If anything, I’d be counting on that ego of Adam. Kings like him always believed they could manipulate the fire without being burned. I couldn’t wait to let him learn differently. Slowly. Painfully.
My fingers brushed against the stem of a goblet. I lifted it, deliberately slow, the silver catching the soft light. I took a sip, unhurried, savoring the faintly sweet wine as the room held its breath.
Every movent was calculated, designed to draw out the mont—to make them all feel the tension winding tighter and tighter, like the bow of a string about to snap.
When I finally set the goblet down, I smiled.
"I want," I said clearly, "a respected place in the pack."
The air seed to drop ten degrees.
Murmurs rippled instantly through the nobles, sharp and scandalized. I waited, watching the confusion shift into outrage.
"—a noble position," I continued, my tone unbothered, "one that answers to no one. Second only to the King himself."
The reaction was delicious.
Gasps. Hisses. Voices breaking into curses.
"She dares—"
"Has it ever been heard of?"
"What nonsense!"
"Who does she think she is?!"
"She is after us, I swear by the goddess!"
Their words tangled together in a growing uproar. A few of the elders turned red with anger. Sowhere near the far end of the table, I heard a glass shatter.
Through it all, I smiled, swirling the last of my wine lazily.
Of course, it was Adam who silenced them. His voice carried easily, a single sharp word that cut through the noise like a blade.
"Enough."
Instant obedience.
Ah. That tone. He used it well.
My smile deepened as I leaned back in my seat, crossing one leg over the other, letting them all look at and choke on their disbelief.
When the tent was quiet again, I tilted my head, pretending to study my nails. "I suppose I should explain, before anyone here dies from shock."
A few of the nobles stiffened further, clearly restraining themselves.
"I’m a royal, after all," I said softly. "And I expect to be treated as one."
That earned another wave of muttering—this ti from Claire, whose sharp tongue never seed to rest. She leaned forward, her face twisted in disdain.
"If you’re a royal," she said coldly, "what are you doing here? Where is your throne? A fugitive, perhaps?"
The jab should have stung. It didn’t.
I smiled at her sweetly, letting my voice drip with indifference. "That’s the reason I won the contest, my lady. So that I could be in a position to make demands."
I let the word demands linger, my tone deliberate. "To trade whatever aningless prizes you give your winners for sothing I actually want."
I paused, letting my gaze flick between her and Adam, reading their expressions.
"I don’t want to be treated as nothing," I said, softer now, but my voice carried. "I won’t bear it. Because if I do—"
I let my lips curl. "—I might just burn down the person or people responsible."
A few gasps followed, but I only smiled wider. "So for both our sakes, and yours, I think it’s best if I’m given that position. A figurehead, really. I won’t take part in your councils, won’t ddle in your decisions. I only want my space respected. Mine and my friend’s."
I glanced toward Isla, who was trying very hard not to grin.
"That," I said lightly, "and the sa money prize given to Darius."
The tent erupted again.
More curses. More outrage. Soone called a witch out loud this ti. Another said I’d brought sha to the gas.
I laughed softly, not even pretending to hide my amusent. "Oh, co now. You should be happy I’m not asking for the King’s hand in marriage."
That silenced them.
A dangerous kind of silence.
I tilted my head, pretending to think. "Actually..." I murmured, my tone musing. "Maybe I should do that, since I could have what I crave, and more..."
Adam’s eyes snapped to instantly, sharp and unreadable.
"Perhaps I should ask the three kings to marry ," I said louder now, feigning contemplation, "or better yet—ask to rule the kingdom myself."
The effect was imdiate.
Faces drained of color. Forks froze halfway to lips. Even Noah and Daniel looked like they’d swallowed their tongues.
It took everything in not to laugh outright.
"After all," I said, still smiling, "I’m about to risk my life to protect your precious kingdom. Or do you think casting do magic is simple?"
The smile fell from my face then, my voice dipping into sothing quieter, heavier. "Ask Darius," I added, gesturing toward him with a small flick of my hand. "He knows."
Every head turned toward him.
Darius, lounging beside , looked far too entertained by the chaos. His dark eyes glittered like a cat’s, his smirk lazy.
He shrugged, eting their gazes one by one before saying, "She’s right. It isn’t simple. Not even close. She’s doing the bulk of the work. And it’s draining... can lead to her death, if she isn’t careful."
A ripple of uneasy murmurs followed, but no one dared argue.
I could feel Adam watching again. That quiet tension from before returned, thicker now, pressing against the edges of the room.
I didn’t look at him this ti.
Instead, I turned my goblet between my fingers, pretending to admire the reflection of the candlelight on the wine. My pulse was steady, my expression calm. Inside, though, I was laughing.
They thought I was unpredictable. They had no idea.
When the murmurs began to die, I lifted my chin slightly. "I do have one more request," I said.
The air seed to still again.
All eyes turned to .
I smiled, slow and deliberate, then turned to Darius.
"I want him out of the pack. Imdiately."
Darius inhaled sharply beside . For the first ti since I’d t him, I actually caught him off guard.
The first ti I’d ever truly caught him unawares.
Apart from the field battle, of course.
He looked confused. I pitied him.
"I won’t need him for the do casting," I said casually, turning back to Adam. "So I’d rather not have him in my way."
I’d rather be holding all the strings.
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