LOGINThe girl trembled violently beneath Rowan’s grip, her breathing turning shallow and uneven against his hand while the cold edge of the knife rested against her throat. Fear widened her eyes so much they seemed almost glass-like in the darkness of the room, and for a moment Rowan was reminded of just how dangerous this situation had become. One scream, one wrong movement, and every guard stationed around the estate would come running.“Silence,” he repeated softly, though the warning carried far more threat this time. “Nod if you understand me.”The maid nodded frantically.Only then did Rowan slowly loosen his hand from her mouth, though the knife never moved away from her skin.“Good,” he murmured. “Now answer carefully. Where is Lady Elinor?”The girl swallowed hard, her voice trembling so badly that the words almost broke apart before leaving her lips.“She… she isn’t here.”Rowan’s grip tightened instantly.“Don’t lie to me.”“I’m not lying,” she whispered desperately. “Please… pl
The words followed Lyria long after she left the corridor, echoing through her mind with cruel persistence while she walked beside Mariel in silence. Every part of her wanted to dismiss Valeria’s confidence as arrogance, to convince herself that the woman had exaggerated the situation simply to wound her, but the certainty in Valeria’s eyes had felt too real to ignore. She had spoken like someone already imagining the future unfolding exactly as she desired it, a future where she remained indispensable to the king no matter who wore the crown beside him.And what terrified Lyria most was how deeply that possibility affected her.Not because of politics.Not because of power.But because the thought of another woman carrying Edrion’s child felt unbearable in a way she could no longer explain away.The palace corridors stretched endlessly around her, golden light spilling through tall windows and painting long shadows across the marble floors, yet none of it seemed beautiful now. Everyt
The words lingered between them, suspended in the heavy silence of the room.Lyria felt as though the air had become too dense to breathe properly.“Why… are you so certain?” she finally asked.The question left her lips more like a whisper than a clear sentence, betraying the agitation his closeness was stirring inside her. His presence seemed to unravel her little by little, and the frantic rhythm of her heartbeat made it almost impossible to gather a coherent thought. Edrion watched her with quiet attention, as though he were taking note of every small shift in her expression: the blush slowly rising along her throat, the quickening pace of her breathing, the tension gathering in her hands.His gaze lowered briefly to the place where his hand had rested before, and then, with calm deliberation, he lifted it again and placed it gently against her chest, directly over her heart. The touch was light, barely more than a brush, yet the effect was immediate. A shiver ran through her body
Lyria’s breath caught in her throat, and for a moment she forgot the room around them entirely. The discarded fabrics, the unfinished gown, the careful strategies she had spent days building inside her mind all faded beneath the warmth of his hand against her skin and the unwavering certainty in his voice. Edrion had not spoken like a man offering a romantic promise. He had spoken like a king declaring fate.His fingers remained lightly against her cheek, rougher than hers and unexpectedly warm despite the cold authority that always seemed to surround him. Lyria became painfully aware of how close he was, close enough to feel the faint warmth of his breath, close enough that if either of them moved even slightly, the distance between them would disappear completely. What unsettled her most was not the closeness itself, but the realization that it frightened her far less than it should have.“You say that so easily,” she murmured, her voice softer now, quieter without intending it.Edr
Lyria’s smile remained in place as she stopped beside the table.The concubines did not return it.Some looked at her with open curiosity, others with barely concealed disdain. Valeria, however, watched her as though assessing a new object whose value had yet to be determined.“Lady Elinor,” one of the women finally said, a redhead with sharp eyes. “We didn’t know you enjoyed the gardens.”Her tone sounded pleasant on the surface, almost courteous, but the intention hidden beneath those words was anything but kind. Lyria recognized it immediately, though she did not allow it to show on her face. She merely inclined her head slightly, maintaining the composure she had spent the entire morning practicing.“I’m still discovering them.”Another concubine let out a soft laugh.“Of course… all of this must be very new to you.”Several glances passed between them.“The gardens,” another added. “The palace. Life… in general.”The words landed softly, yet each carried a sharp intention beneath
Lyria’s chambers were filled with women. Seamstresses bent over delicate fabrics, maids moving in and out carrying boxes and ribbons, and, overseeing the entire scene, an older woman with rigid posture who watched every movement with the same severity a general might use to inspect a battlefield.“No, no, no,” the woman said in disapproval. “A queen does not sit like that.”Lyria looked up patiently.“Like what?”“With your shoulders slouched.”The woman walked over and gently pushed her back straighter.“Straight.”Lyria obeyed.“A queen must look as though she was born on the throne, even if she arrived yesterday.”Mariel hid a smile behind her fan.“My lady is learning quickly.”“She will have to,” the older woman replied dryly. “The wedding is in a month.”Lyria had already heard that phrase too many times since the previous morning. One month. Thirty days to learn how to move, speak, and breathe like a queen, to transform herself into someone she had never been and, until recentl







