Chapter 3 : The Queen Beneath the Palace

Chapter 3: The Queen Beneath the Palace

The words on the mirror vanished as suddenly as they had appeared.

I stared at the glass, my pulse pounding so violently I could hear it in my ears.

THE FIRST QUEEN DID NOT DIE.

SHE IS WAITING FOR YOU BELOW THE PALACE.

My reflection looked just as terrified as I felt.

I touched the mirror with trembling fingers. The surface was cold and solid now, no ripple, no blood, no silver letters. If I hadn’t seen it myself, I would have thought exhaustion had driven me mad.

A knock sounded at the door.

I spun around.

“Lady Lyra,” a maid called softly. “His Majesty has ordered that you eat.”

His Majesty.

The title sent an unwelcome shiver through me.

“I’m not hungry.”

A pause.

“The king said you would say that.”

Of course he did.

The lock clicked, and the maid entered carrying a silver tray. She was young, perhaps my age, with dark curls hidden beneath a servant’s veil. Unlike the others, she avoided looking directly at my wrist.

She set the tray on the table with shaking hands.

“What is your name?” I asked.

“Evelyn.”

“You’re afraid of me, Evelyn.”

Her eyes darted to the glowing crescent beneath my sleeve. “No, my lady.”

The lie was obvious.

I sat slowly beside the tray. Fresh bread, roasted pheasant, and berries filled the air with a rich scent that made my stomach twist with sudden hunger. I hadn’t eaten since morning.

Evelyn remained near the door as though ready to flee.

“Tell me the truth,” I said quietly. “What is a Moonborn?”

Her face drained of color.

“My lady, I shouldn’t—”

“Please.”

She swallowed hard. “My grandmother told me stories when I was a child. She said the Moonborn women could walk through dreams and speak to the dead. Their blood was sacred, and kings once fought wars to possess it.”

Possess.

The word scraped against my skin.

“What happened to them?”

“They disappeared after the Night of Ashes. The first queen was blamed for the curse that fell upon the Shadow Throne.”

The first queen.

The woman in the mirror.

“What was her name?”

Evelyn hesitated. “Queen Selene.”

The name struck me with inexplicable force. A distant ache stirred behind my ribs, as though I had heard it before.

“Did she die?”

Evelyn looked toward the windows, where moonlight spilled across the floor. “The chronicles say she was executed beneath the palace.”

Beneath the palace.

A cold knot formed in my stomach.

Before I could ask another question, footsteps echoed outside the chamber. Heavy. Deliberate.

Evelyn bowed so quickly she nearly dropped the tray.

The door opened.

King Ronan Draven entered.

The room seemed to darken around him.

He had changed from his formal court attire into a black coat embroidered with silver runes. Without the distance of the throne room, his presence was even more dangerous. He filled the chamber as though the air itself belonged to him.

Evelyn fled at once.

Ronan closed the door behind her.

We were alone.

“You haven’t eaten,” he observed.

“I was busy being haunted.”

One dark brow lifted. “Haunted?”

I hesitated. Telling him about the mirror felt foolish, yet hiding it felt worse.

“A woman appeared in the glass,” I said. “She wore a silver crown. She warned me to run.”

His expression did not change.

That frightened me more than surprise would have.

“What else did she say?”

“That you would destroy me.”

Silence stretched between us.

Then Ronan crossed the room.

Instinct made me rise, but he stopped close enough that I could feel the warmth of his body.

“You should not speak to spirits,” he said softly.

“So she was real.”

His gaze flicked briefly to the mirror.

“Nothing in this palace is entirely dead.”

The answer chilled me.

I drew a breath. “Who was Queen Selene?”

Something dangerous flashed in his eyes.

“Where did you hear that name?”

“Evelyn.”

He turned toward the door. “I’ll have the servants punished for gossip.”

“No.” I stepped between him and the door. “She only answered because I asked.”

Ronan’s attention dropped to my wrist. The mark glowed brighter beneath his gaze.

“Move, Lyra.”

“Tell me the truth.”

His jaw tightened.

“The truth,” he said at last, “is that Selene was my ancestor, and speaking her name after midnight is forbidden.”

“Why?”

“Because she was the first queen of the Shadow Throne.”

The air left my lungs.

“She caused the curse?”

“That is what history claims.”

“But you don’t believe it.”

For the first time, uncertainty flickered across his face.

Before he could answer, the mark on my wrist burned.

I gasped.

Silver light spilled across my skin, climbing my arm like moonlit veins. The chamber trembled. Candles guttered. The mirror rang with a sharp, crystal sound.

Ronan caught my arm before I could fall.

The instant his fingers touched me, the world vanished.

Moonlight flooded my vision.

I stood in a vast underground hall lined with black stone pillars. Water dripped somewhere in the darkness. At the center of the chamber was a silver coffin surrounded by chains.

A woman knelt before it.

Silver hair cascaded down her back.

Slowly, she turned.

Queen Selene.

Her gray eyes locked onto mine.

“Find me before the blood moon rises,” she whispered.

The vision shattered.

I collapsed against Ronan’s chest, struggling for breath.

His arms tightened around me.

“What did you see?”

The warmth of him was terrifyingly comforting.

“A crypt,” I whispered. “Beneath the palace. She’s there.”

Ronan went perfectly still.

“That place is sealed.”

“Not to me.”

His heartbeat thundered beneath my cheek.

For one reckless moment I forgot he was a king, forgot the curse, forgot the danger. I became painfully aware of his hands on my waist, the scent of smoke and winter on his skin, the way his breath brushed my hair.

His fingers tilted my chin upward.

Our faces were inches apart.

“Do you feel it too?” he asked, his voice rougher than before.

The question stole my breath.

“Yes.”

The admission hung between us like a spell.

Ronan’s gaze dropped to my mouth.

A knock exploded against the door.

He released me instantly.

The sudden distance felt like a wound.

“Enter,” he snapped.

The door flew open. A captain rushed inside, pale and breathless.

“Your Majesty, the western guards are dead.”

Ronan’s expression hardened.

“What happened?”

“They were found beneath the palace.”

Ice flooded my veins.

The captain swallowed. “And one word was carved into the stone beside the bodies.”

Ronan’s eyes became deadly.

“What word?”

The captain looked directly at me.

“Moonborn.”

A deep rumble echoed through the tower.

The floor shook.

Dust drifted from the ceiling.

Then, from somewhere far below us, a woman began to sing.

The haunting melody rose through the stone like a voice awakening from a centuries-long grave.