The echoes of clashing steel still thundered in my ears, the sharp ring of metal against metal carved into my mind. The feast hall, once alive with laughter and the clinking of glasses, had transformed into a battleground, its grandeur stained with chaos and blood. I could feel the gazes of every noble, every servant, every guard locked onto me—the girl who had dared to tear through the fragile veneer of civility and turn their carefully curated night into a tempest.
The gown I wore, one of the rare gifts brought by the king's wife this very morning, felt impossibly heavy. Its delicate fabric was stained with blood, both mine and others', and yet, when I looked down, I saw how the deep sapphire silk caught the light. The intricate embroidery traced like the rivers of my homeland, shimmering with gold threads that made the dress glow beneath the chandelier's gleam. I couldn't deny it—I looked beautiful. More than beautiful. I looked untouchable, a force wrapped in silk and steel.
But there was no time to admire it.
My breath came in ragged bursts, chest rising and falling beneath the heavy silk. My hands still gripped the short blade I'd torn from the nearest guard's belt moments ago, its cold weight grounding me in the midst of the storm.
The room had fallen into a heavy, suffocating silence. The nobles' faces were masks of shock, awe, or barely concealed hatred. The king's wife—her expression twisted into something cold and cruel—stood off to the side, her eyes burning with fury. She was not yet queen, but her ambitions were as clear as the sharpness of the blade I wielded.
Ilyra was by my side, the sharpness in her gaze unyielding. "They won't forget this," she whispered, voice low, steady. "They'll come after you harder next time."
Maren, bruised but fierce, wiped a thin line of blood from her cheek, nodding in agreement. "This is only the beginning. They'll be better prepared. You need to be ready."
I swallowed, the weight of their words pressing on me. They were right. This fight was far from over. The web of lies and schemes in this palace ran deep, and I was just beginning to unravel the threads.
As the whispers started to swirl, carrying rumors like wildfire, I scanned the faces around me. Some eyes shone with reluctant respect, others with thinly veiled fear, and more than a few with dangerous malice.
My gaze drifted to the table where the king's wife had sat before her departure. The gifts she had brought—delicate jewels, exotic silks, rare perfumes—still lay untouched, a reminder of the calculated smile she wore just hours ago. She had come bearing gifts to sway me, to draw me into her poison-tipped web. Instead, I had turned her own game against her.
I stepped forward, the hem of my gown whispering across the marble floor. Each footfall was a declaration: I belonged here. Not as a pawn, but as a queen in waiting.
The guards shifted, the tension thick enough to choke on. One of them, a tall man with scars like a map of battles past, approached quietly and slipped a hand to my elbow. "We'll keep watch," he said softly, his voice a promise. "No one will lay a finger on you."
Gratitude flickered in my chest. I nodded. "Thank you."
The night outside the hall was cold and dark, a stark contrast to the fiery storm that had raged within these walls. As I was escorted back to my chambers, every shadow seemed to hide a threat, every whisper carried secrets waiting to be uncovered.
Once alone, I let the tension drain from my shoulders and sank onto the edge of the window seat. The moonlight spilled across my skin, pale and trembling. I touched the fresh cuts on my arm—the sting a sharp reminder of how close I had come to death tonight.
But more frightening than the wounds were the implications.
If they wanted me dead, then I was a threat. Not just to the king's wife, but to the entire corrupt council that had ruled this palace from the shadows. I wasn't just fighting for myself anymore. I was fighting for my mother—trapped in her endless slumber, defenseless—and for every loyal subject who dreamed of a kingdom free from poison and deceit.
I closed my eyes, letting my thoughts settle.
I needed eyes everywhere.
I needed a network.
A spy network.
The first step was clear. I would assign my most trusted maids—women I had carefully chosen for their loyalty and intelligence—to keep close watch over my mother's chambers. No medicine would be delivered without their inspection. No visitor would be allowed without their knowledge.
And beyond the palace walls, I needed informants, watchers in the streets and taverns, ears in the dark alleys. The city's whispers would become my weapons.
I pulled a small journal from the drawer beside me, its leather cover worn and familiar. With steady fingers, I began to write.
Assign Maris and Elat's to mother's quarters. No one delivers anything without their approval .Check the apothecary's supplies daily. I will inspect all medicines personally. Our enemies are clever . Poison is their easiest weapon.
I paused, heart pounding, then continued.
Send Joran and Lias to the market districts. Find out who is speaking against me, who moves in the shadows, who sent the note containing a warning. The council must not know we are watching.
The night stretched on, the weight of the task settling on my shoulders. But beneath the exhaustion, a fierce light burned inside me—hope, determination, a promise.
If they thought they could break me with steel and lies, they were wrong.
Because I had survived.
And I would make sure they never forgot it.