7

Scarlett’s POV

“Who would send something like this in the middle of the night?” I whispered, unfolding the anonymous letter with trembling fingers in the dim morning light. “You think threats will make me run like a scared animal?”

The words on the parchment were sharp and cruel: Flee before the coronation or you and your child will die. You do not belong on the throne. Leave now or suffer the consequences.

I read it twice, feeling fear rise in my chest and then harden into resolve. No. I had run enough in the forest. This time I would stand my ground.

I walked straight to the fireplace, holding the letter over the flames. “Burn,” I said firmly as the paper caught fire and curled into ash. “I am not running anymore. Not from cowards who hide behind letters. This is my fight now.”

Later that afternoon, I entered the council chamber with my head held high. Jordan gave me a small nod of support as I took my seat beside him. The meeting began on trade routes and border security, but the noblewomen wasted no time turning their attention to me.

Lady Mirra leaned toward Lady Elara, speaking just loud enough for me to hear. “Look at her sitting there in that gown. Does she truly believe it hides her size? A Queen should embody beauty and grace. The people expect elegance, not someone who looks like she wandered in from the villages.”

Lady Elara smirked behind her fan. “Exactly. Intelligence is secondary when the crown sits on an ordinary head. How can she represent us at foreign courts? She looks more like a forest maiden who got lucky than a real queen. This is embarrassing for the kingdom.”

Their words stung sharply, but I kept my face calm. Jordan’s jaw tightened beside me. Before he could intervene, I lifted my voice clearly.

“Beauty may impress in ballrooms and portraits,” I said, meeting their eyes directly, “but survival and practical thinking are what keep kingdoms alive. Mock my appearance if it makes you feel superior, but I am here. And I will not stay silent while you dismiss me.”

Lord Harlan cleared his throat, trying to steer the conversation back. “Your Majesty, we face a serious disagreement on the eastern trade routes. Bandit attacks have doubled in the past month. Securing the borders properly will cost a fortune. Some suggest raising merchant taxes, while others want to pull guards from the northern passes. Both options carry heavy risks.”

Lord Varen shook his head firmly. “Pulling guards from the north is madness. It leaves us open to mountain clans raiding our villages. But raising taxes will anger the merchants and could spark revolts in the trade cities. We are trapped between two bad choices.”

I leaned forward, drawing on everything I had learned helping my late parents manage their trade contracts and border dealings. “Why not combine ideas smarter instead of choosing one disaster over another? Station small, mobile patrols along the main trade routes rather than large fixed guards at every post. These patrols can respond faster to bandit sightings. Use the coin saved from fewer stationary guards to offer rewards for merchants who report dangers early. At the same time, lower border taxes slightly for traders who prove loyal and help fund the patrols through small contributions.”

Lady Mirra raised an eyebrow, her voice dripping with doubt. “You learned this strategy in the woods? It sounds too simple for such a complex problem.”

“No,” I replied steadily, refusing to back down. “I learned it watching my parents balance contracts and security in smaller territories before everything changed. It worked there. The merchants felt valued instead of punished, and attacks dropped because everyone had reason to watch and report. We can adapt it here—perhaps test it on the eastern route first for one month and measure results.”

Lord Harlan stroked his chin thoughtfully, nodding slowly. “That… actually makes sense. Practical, balanced, and it avoids draining the treasury completely. I did not expect such detailed insight from you, Your Majesty. It shows promise.”

Lady Elara stayed quiet this time, but a few older council members murmured in approval. One of them, an elderly lord named Garrick, spoke up. “The Queen’s idea has merit. We have tried heavy taxes before and it bred resentment. This rewards cooperation. I support testing it.”

Jordan glanced at me with quiet surprise and something warmer in his eyes. “Well said. We will implement the Queen’s proposal on a trial basis. Prepare the orders.”

I felt a rush of pride as the table shifted. “You see?” I said, looking around at them. “I may not look like your traditional queen, but I can think for this kingdom. Give me a real chance, and I will earn your respect through results, not just title.”

Lord Varen bowed his head slightly. “Perhaps we underestimated you, Your Majesty. We will move forward with your plan for the routes and report back in two weeks.”

The meeting ended on a much stronger note. It was a small victory, but it gave me real hope that I could carve out my place here.

“You did well today,” Jordan said quietly as we walked out of the chamber together. “They actually listened to you. That is rare in these halls.”

I smiled faintly, still riding the moment. “It felt good to speak up and be heard. I’m tired of being the outsider they only whisper about. Maybe I can become more than just your contract queen.”

He nodded. “Keep standing tall like that. It suits you more than you know.”

Back in my chambers that evening, I pushed open the door and froze. Something was wrong. Drawers were slightly open. My clothes had been moved. The books on the side table were not in the same order I had left them.

“Someone searched my room while I was gone,” I muttered, heart racing as I checked every corner. “Who would dare do this so openly?”

I sat carefully on the bed, trying to steady my breathing. My hand slipped under the pillow and touched something soft and unexpected. I pulled it out slowly.

A single black feather lay there, dark and ominous against the white sheets. No note. Just the feather.

I held it up to the candlelight, my voice steady but cold with warning. “Another silent threat? Come out and face me if you’re brave enough. I am done running from shadows.”