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Mirrors Don’t Lie (But They Flirt)
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2025-10-29 13:27:51
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The Lycan King’s Rogue Queen The Hall of Mirrors
Kael Veyra woke like a blade being polished—hushed, bright, and a little too pleased with its own reflection. By noon, the Hall of Mirrors had filled with courtiers who smelled like money and nerves. The room itself was a geometry problem: a hundred panels of silvered glass angled to catch every breath, every blink, every lie. High above, a skylight dripped white light as if noon had been jarred and poured. Lumi tugged my sleeve. “Ground rules?” “Don’t touch anything that looks like it’s going to ask a personal question,” I said. She nodded solemnly. “So, the whole room.” Riley came to stand at my side—black jacket, bare throat, eyes that had learned to put out fires and start them. I didn’t reach for her hand. I didn’t have to. Choosing to stand here was already its own vow. Solven materialized from a mirror with all the humility of a sermon. Their mask today was half-moon, half-sun, stitched where the two refused to agree. “Majesty. Lady Riley.” A courteous incline. “Veyra th
The Lycan King’s Rogue Queen Mirrors Don’t Lie (But They Flirt)
KaelIf anyone asked, I’d call it diplomacy.If I was honest, it was an excuse to breathe next to her without the world watching.Veyra — city of mirrors and masks — was technically neutral ground.Which made it perfect for my plan.No council. No decree. No Daren Vale. Just a dinner that wasn’t supposed to mean anything.Except it did.Because it had been months since Riley’s memories began returning in fragments — a name here, a laugh there — and every time she looked at me, I could see the question she didn’t dare ask:Was I ever yours?So I’d done the stupid thing.The brave thing.The Riley thing.I planned a date.Three days convincing the Veyran council to host us “in the name of diplomacy.”Two hours choosing the restaurant with the most dramatic lighting.And one very long speech to Lumi about not calling it a date out loud.Spoiler: she called it a date out loud.---RileyHe called it “a strategic dinner to reassure neutral territories.”Translation: the Lycan King wants to
The Lycan King’s Rogue Queen Coffee, Knives, and Other Bad Decisions
Riley Cindrel woke up cranky. You could feel it in the cobblestones — like the whole city had slept in its crown and dreamed of being the victim. Shops opened late. Priests of the "perfectly harmless sunlight" found new excuses to sweep somewhere else. Even the pigeons looked judgy. Lumi and I hit the market before dawn because apparently, revolution requires caffeine. "Ground rules," I said, tugging my jacket closed. "If Ronan tries any noon tricks, stab his cup." "With what?" she asked. "Your eyes." "Copy that." She flashed a smile that could’ve qualified as a war crime. Ronan Vale appeared right on schedule, like a golden sin with good timing. No cape (thank the gods), just that effortless grin people wear when they’ve never lost anything that mattered. He chose a wolf-owned cart — decent choice — the one with coffee strong enough to confess for you. He bowed. To me. To Lumi. Even to the barista, who didn’t bow back and handed him a cup that looked like liquid defiance.
The Lycan King’s Rogue Queen Noon Rugs & Bright Lies
Kael Dawn found Cindrel gathered beneath its own arrogance. The upper terrace became a balcony of judgment; the square below, a throat full of held breath. Auditors lined our rear flank with salt-knives and moon-ink. Lira held a ledger like a weapon. Varyn posted steel at every arch. Lumi stood at my elbow with an apple and the alert contempt of a cat who’s decided the city is a bad sofa. Riley stepped up beside me. No crown. No cloak. Just a black jacket that made her look like a promise someone would regret breaking. She didn’t need armor; the room changed shape to fit her. “Ready?” I asked. “No,” she said. “Do it anyway.” The bell tolled. I raised my voice. “People of Cindrel,” I said, “by right of the crown and the law we bled to write—hear the record.” Lira lifted the first rug—one of the pale noon-weaves we’d pulled from behind a panel—and snapped it open so the square could see the threadwork stitched in hidden gold. A collective hiss crawled the crowd. “Solar tethers
The Lycan King’s Rogue Queen The Bright Lie
Riley Cindrel’s council chamber was designed to make people agree with it. Sunlight fell through a honeycomb of gold-latticed skylights, spilling in neat hexagons across marble that had never seen dirt. Banners hung like sermons. Every seat faced the throne dais, as if the room itself had already chosen a king and wanted applause on schedule. Lumi took one look and wrinkled her nose. “It’s a yes-man in building form.” “Accurate,” I murmured. “Try not to lick the walls; you’ll get drunk on self-importance.” Kael heard me (of course he did) and didn’t smile (of course he didn’t). His shoulders wore the quiet weight I’d started to learn: King, not just Lycan. The kind who had to make a decree and then walk it into every city because words don’t grow legs by themselves. We were here to nail Cindrel’s compliance to the floor. Again. And the Vales were already seated like a matched set of knives. Lady Serina gleamed—pearl hair, pearl smile, pearl cruelty. Beside her: Daren Vale, all
The Lycan King’s Rogue Queen The Court of Smiles and Knives
Riley Cindrel didn’t look like a city. It looked like a warning wrapped in gold. The streets gleamed too clean. The people smiled too wide. Every balcony dripped with banners stitched in silver thread — old symbols of Lycan dominance Kael had outlawed weeks ago. “Smells fake,” Lumi muttered beside me. “Like perfume and lies.” “Then keep your blade sharp,” I said. “Both kinds.” She grinned. “Yes, Alpha Mom.” Kael ignored us, but his jaw was tight enough to crack a gemstone. “We’ll meet their council, remind them what the decree means.” “You mean tell them to stop pretending slavery is heritage,” I said. “That too.” I could feel the tension thrumming through him — the calm before the storm, the weight of a man who’d learned peace was just another kind of war. --- Kael The Council of Cindrel assembled in a marble hall big enough to make gods feel small. They were all there — the nobles who’d hidden behind old titles when the world changed — and leading them, Lady Serina of
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