Chapter 262
Silence. Thick as storm clouds, heavy as judgment.
Diana was probably right. I was mad; there was no other way to describe the reason for the numbing silence in the room. Only a mad person could do it, could conduct this massacre of music, could hold hundreds of people ransom to silence.
The grand hall — once bloated with music, wine, and whispers — now held its breath, waiting for the Queen to speak. And I? I sat in the center of it all, my fingers resting lightly on the stem of my goblet, trying not to show just how hard my heart was pounding.
Everyone was watching the Queen. But I watched everyone else.
Her family, for instance. The stunned, tight-lipped Raul. The pale, visibly trembling Rachel. Duke, whose mouth had pressed into a furious line, was beginning to stand, then stopped when the Queen did not acknowledge him.
Hendel was glaring at me, his clenched fists on the well adorned table shining white under the bright light. I knew that he would have snuffed the life out of me, if given the opportunity, without thinking it twice. He looked like a wounded lover seeking for revenge.
The nobles were tense — some muttering among themselves, others frozen mid-toast or mid-chew. A few audaciously cast me vengeful looks, unlike the rest who couldn’t raise their heads for shame. After all, they had agreed amongst themselves to swipe the Queen’s wrongs under the carpet because of a taste of the forbidden library and whatever nonsense she promised them.
And then there was the Lycan King.
He sat with his sons — all three of them, hulking shadows with gleaming eyes and expressions carved from stone. His gaze bored into me, heavy, unreadable, but unmistakably edged with threat.
His sons were no gentler. If stares could snap bones, I’d be a heap of splinters in my chair. Quite strange, if you ask me, considering they claimed to want me.
I swallowed tightly and tilted my head, offering the barest smile. Didn’t they like me anymore? Or had I gone too far?
In that moment, I wasn’t sure. I had acted on instinct — on pain, and anger, and the strange fire that El always stirred in me when she whispered courage into my spine.
El? I reached out silently.
A pause, then: You’ve made quite the scene, little storm.
Little storm? That was a first. Was I wrong?
A bit reckless, she said mildly. But not wrong. The Queen needed to understand that there are consequences to actions. Besides, she is a ruler first, and rulers don’t bleed in public unless they must. She will do what she must to keep her throne. Which, conveniently, includes giving you justice.
And if she doesn’t? The most unpredictable thing on earth were humans. What if she decides to be stubborn? To throw me into the dungeons? To damn the consequences?
Then we go to war properly. But not yet. Wait. Watch. I am with you, after all. Fear not.
I let out a slow breath. El was here. She could take care of things, if matters decided to go south.
Then the Queen picked the microphone. She did not raise a hand to silence the room — she didn’t have to. Her presence alone was enough to drag the attention of every living soul back to her like a magnet. When she spoke, her voice was velvet stretched over blades.
“Honored guests,” she said. “My apologies for the… unforeseen outburst. One must expect a little excitement at a royal celebration p>
A brittle chuckle skittered through the hall — the laugh of people afraid not to laugh.
The Queen looked out across the assembly, and her eyes came to rest on me — unwavering, unapologetic. I braced myself.
She stepped forward. “I have made mistakes. In my haste to preserve the image of a united, peaceful court, I allowed silence to cover rot. I wronged a family that has long served this court with honor.” Her gaze flicked to my parents, then back to me. “I wronged you, Dora. And yours p>
A murmur swept through the hall. I blinked.
“And I wronged the dead,” she continued. “Zande was more than a rising star. She was a visionary. I now know that she was carrying a child fathered by my son. That she was silenced, indirectly, by the weight of my protection over him. I did not know of her pregnancy — and that ignorance, too, is a crime. One I will not let go unanswered p>
She turned her head — and now, for the first time all night, she said his name. “Duke p>
Her son jerked like a puppet on strings.
“You lied to me,” she said quietly. “You didn’t inform me that the damsel was pregnant when you convinced me to send her to war. You let your sins write the story of another’s death. And for that, I strip you of title, of inheritance, and of courtly protection. You are hereby exiled — to the Shadow Wastes, beyond the Eastern Veil. You may take nothing with you p>
Gasps erupted. Several nobles stood abruptly, either to protest or flee. My mother clutched my hand. Duke had gone pale as marble, his mouth opening and closing, no sound emerging.
Justice, I thought fiercely. For Zande. But first p>
“What is the Shadow Waste and Eastern Veil?” I asked a numbed Diana, who looked on the spectacle with open mouth. Was the place that evil?
She turned to me, mouth still open. “It’s a place like death. Duke won’t survive there for a week.” She licked her lips. “I thought it a myth, seeing as no one has been sent there in the longest time p>
“What’s it about p>
“It’s a place where evil wielders of magic are sent to. That’s what the Shadow Wastelands are. Eastern Veil is just the name of a witch community, the last on our terrain. This is like life imprisonment, like a phantom zone. The air there, alone, is not conducive for us. It also saps our magic p>
Well, not what I expected. But, I believed Zande would be happy wherever she was, so I was okay with the ruling, even though the place gave me the chills.
Guards closed in on Duke. He didn’t fight. Didn’t speak. He only stared at his mother, as if waiting for her to take it back. Thᴇ link to the origɪn of this information rᴇsts ɪn.net
She didn’t.
When the guards took him away, the room buzzed with disbelief.
The Queen’s gaze now moved to Rachel, who had stopped breathing altogether.
“As for the contest,” the Queen said, her voice growing firmer, “and the dishonor committed therein — I will not tolerate such manipulation. Victory is not won through deception p>
“Mother—” Rachel whispered, rising from her chair.
“You will not call me that,” the Queen snapped. Then, smoothly again, “For your failure to uphold the honor of the crown, I hereby exile you from all courtly affairs for one full season. You are to be sequestered, stripped of all public duties. Return only when summoned p>
“No—” Rachel swayed. And collapsed in a faint.
Gasps again. The room was alive now — restless, fevered. Guards rushed to her side, lifted her with almost reverent efficiency, and carried her out like she was already dead.
I sat straighter in my seat. Part of me wanted to smirk. But another part — the deeper, older part — only felt the quiet, still satisfaction of justice being served. It wasn’t vengeance I wanted. Just truth. Just accountability.
“And now,” the Queen said, pivoting with terrifying grace, “to the matter of succession p>
I tensed. Why was she talking about that? Rachel would be back, right?
“There is a saying,” she said. “That power bends to those who dare speak when others cower. Tonight, one voice rang louder than any I have heard in years — not in rebellion, but in truth. Dora p>
My name in her mouth was soft. Measured. What game is the Queen playing?
“You were brave, if wildly inappropriate. But perhaps… appropriate enough for a queen. You possess the white hair — the mark of ancestral right. And now, with your display tonight, I see no reason not to put you down as the rightful heir to the throne p>
My lungs forgot how to work.
“And,” she continued, “to secure unity, I propose a joining. A marriage. Between you… and my remaining son, Raul p>
A crackle of stunned noise tore through the crowd. Daniel?
I didn’t move. My fingers curled around my goblet.
She was offering me the crown. The entire throne. Not just reinstatement. Marriage. Power. Position. Legitimacy. Everything I had just risked everything to speak against… and now it was being placed in my lap.
El was silent.
All eyes were on me.
Raul’s were the only ones that did not burn. He watched me with that unreadable expression he’d always worn — not hopeful. Not angry. Just… there.
I rose slowly, my voice calm, deliberate. “I didn’t come here for a crown.” I wasn’t playing this game.
It was obvious to me that the Queen had used this opportunity to finally accept the Lycan’s King offer.
Did I just walk myself into a trap?