ch 6 The queens move

Chapter Six — The Queen’s Move

The doors closed behind me with the hush of gold hinges, sealing me into a room that felt less like a chamber and more like a snare.

The queen’s apartments were warmer than the rest of the palace. Softer, too — plush carpets swallowed my footsteps, and silk banners in emerald and gold hung like rivers from the ceiling. The air was scented faintly with cedar from a fire crackling in a marble hearth, its glow catching on the crystal drops of a chandelier so delicate it seemed one harsh breath might shatter it.

And there she was.

The queen sat in a high-backed chair near the fire, a closed book resting in her lap as though I had interrupted nothing more than a moment’s quiet reading. She did not rise. She did not need to.

She was striking in a way that made the room seem arranged around her rather than the other way around. Midnight hair, threaded with silver, caught the firelight in glimmers. Her gown, a deep forest velvet embroidered with gold leaves, seemed to drink the warmth of the room. At her throat, a single teardrop emerald gleamed, rich as deep water.

But it was her eyes — pale grey, keen, measuring — that pinned me in place.

“Lady Serenya Vale.”

The sound of my true name filled the space between us, heavy with meaning.

I did not move. “I wasn’t aware my name had traveled this far.”

Her gaze swept over me, unhurried, but I felt as if every detail of me had been quietly noted. “Your name travels whether you wish it to or not. You are the last of House Vale. That alone makes you… indispensable.”

I said nothing, but she continued as though I’d asked her to explain.

“Your family’s land guards the Silverway Pass — the only route the capital can count on in winter. Trade, armies, messages… all flow through it. Whoever controls you controls that lifeline.”

She rose slightly, pacing with the slow grace of someone who never rushes toward victory. “The merchants whisper of an untouched ruby vein beneath Vale soil. A fortune waiting to be claimed, if only the right signature grants the rights. And some of the old lords still honor your crest — enough to tip the balance of the realm if you stood with them.”

My throat felt tight.

“An ancient treaty still binds your bloodline,” she added softly. “If the last Vale heir marries into the royal family, your lands pass directly to the crown without a single sword raised. No council vote. No rival claim.”

I steadied my voice. “And you think that’s why the prince—”

She smiled, and I stopped.

“He is my son,” she said, each word deliberate. “He does not court for pleasure. He courts to win. And when he wins, he does not like to lose.”

The fire popped in the quiet between us.

“I’ve been summoned before,” I said carefully, “but never with such… clarity of intent.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly, as though weighing my choice of words. “Then take this as both warning and opportunity. The wrong hand will use you as a pawn. The right hand might make you a queen.”

I swallowed. “And which hand are you offering me?”

She did not answer directly. Instead, she lifted a gold brooch from the table beside her — a hawk clutching a ruby — and placed it in my palm, her fingers brushing mine with deliberate weight.

“Wear this when you decide where your loyalties lie,” she said. “And remember — Kael plays to win, no matter the cost.”

I left the queen’s chambers with the brooch warm in my hand and the sense that my name was no longer my own.

Kael was waiting at the bottom of the staircase. He didn’t speak. He didn’t have to. His gaze was steady, watchful, as if he already knew every word that had passed between us — and was simply waiting to see what move I would make next.

“You were gone a long time,” he said finally, his tone even, but there was something beneath it — a quiet test.

“The queen had… questions.”

One corner of his mouth lifted. “She always does.”

Before I could ask what he meant, a voice called from across the marble hall. “Your Highness—Lord Ferrow of Greymarch seeks audience.”

A man in a sable-trimmed cloak approached, flanked by two guards. His sharp features and quick, appraising eyes reminded me of a hawk circling prey. He bowed low but wasted no time.

“My prince, I bring urgent petition from the Greymarch council. The Silverway Pass is at risk — heavy snows have slowed the miners’ caravans. Without safe passage, the eastern trade will collapse before spring.”

Kael’s attention sharpened instantly. “And what do you propose?”

“Authority to station our men on Vale lands,” Lord Ferrow said. “To secure the pass.”

Vale lands. My lands.

The title caught in my throat, but Kael’s expression didn’t change — he didn’t look at me, didn’t acknowledge me at all. “You have your own borders to defend, Lord Ferrow. Why should I hand you the only route that matters?”

Ferrow’s smile was thin. “Because it is not yours to give.” His gaze slid to me for the first time, and the weight of it made my skin prickle. “The rightful heir is here, is she not?”

Kael didn’t even glance in my direction. “The rightful heir,” he said slowly, “is under my protection. And while she is, her lands are mine to guard — and mine to command.”

The words were calm, but there was no mistaking the authority in them. Ferrow’s face tightened, but he bowed again. “As you say, Your Highness.”

When he was gone, I exhaled a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. “You speak of my lands as though—”

“As though they are the key to keeping the realm’s enemies in check?” Kael’s gaze finally found mine, dark and unreadable. “That is exactly what they are.”

He stepped closer, so close the faint scent of cedar and leather reached me. “The queen told you, didn’t she? About the pass. The merchants. The treaty.”

I said nothing, and he seemed to take my silence as answer enough.

“I will keep your claim safe,” he said, “but safety is not free. Every piece on the board has a cost.”

His meaning was clear — and so was the truth behind it: I was not just Serenya here. I was Vale. And Vale was currency.

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