All Chapters of His Queen,Their War: Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

I tried again and again and again.The fabric laid before me, crimson folds staring back. My fingers moved automatically now. It felt like a rhythm—cut, pin, stitch, undo. Every attempt felt close, painfully close, yet still wrong. The line of the bodice wasn’t sharp enough. The drape wasn’t speaking the way I wanted it to. It didn’t feel like me yet.Hours slipped by without permission. Guila stayed with me, offering quiet suggestions, steady hands when my own trembled. At some point, she sighed and told me she’d go get snacks before I collapsed from frustration. I barely registered her leaving, my mind was too loud.When the door closed behind her, the silence pressed in.I stepped away from the table and walked to the window, pressing my palms against the cool glass. Night had fully settled outside, the sky deep and heavy, scattered with faint city lights. I closed my eyes and drew in a slow breath.Calm down, I told myself.You’re not failing. You’re learning.My chest felt tight

His eyes found mine first through the mirror. He pauses just inside the threshold, gaze locked on my face as if he's memorizing it all over again. There's tenderness there, mixed with something deeper, hungrier. Only then does his gaze drift downward, slow and deliberate, tracing the lines of the satin gown that clings to my shoulders, my waist, the gentle curve of my hips. The dress is almost perfect, but the zipper at the back gapes slightly. He closes the distance between us in a few measured steps, coming to stand behind me. In the mirror, we look like a portrait—me in ivory satin, him in his tailored dark suit, the contrast sharp and beautiful.He gathers the delicate fabric at my lower back with careful fingers, mindful not to crush the elegant draping that falls from my shoulders. His warmth radiates through it as he positions the zipper tab.As his fingers brushed my skin to align the halves perfectly, a flood of memories rushed in.I remembered the first time he did this, ye

I sank into the seat of Guila’s car, trying to calm the storm in my chest. My hands fidgeted in my lap, twisting the edge of my sleeve. Salvatore. Of course he’d be here. As if the universe had a cruel sense of humor. I wasn’t ready to face him,not yet. Not when everything about him still made my heart stutter in ways I refused to admit.The drive was tense, quiet except for the hum of the engine and the soft music Guila let play. She didn’t comment on my mood, though I caught her shooting glances my way. She’d already warned me before that she’d help me focus, but honestly, right now, my focus was on keeping my cool the second I stepped foot into that building.The fashion house the school had rented rose before us, grand and imposing. I could feel the electricity even before we parked. Stepping out, my heels clicked against the polished pavement, each sound echoing my nervous anticipation. Girls were already milling backstage, wearing their heels, checking their dresses, and rehear

~Alessia’s POV~The second I stepped off the runway, the roar of the crowd faded behind the heavy walls. My legs were shaking, my heart slamming against my ribs like it wanted to escape my chest. I pressed my back to the cool wall of the backstage corridor and let out the breath I’d been holding for what felt like forever.I did it. I actually did it.A squeal burst out of me before I could stop it. Giulia was already there, arms wide, crashing into me with a laugh so loud it echoed off the metal racks.“You were incredible!” she cried, squeezing me until I could barely breathe. “Absolutely flawless, Alessia! The judges were scribbling like mad. You owned that runway.”I buried my face in her shoulder for a second, letting the relief flood through me. “I thought I was going to faint,” I whispered. “I really thought my knees would give out.”“They didn’t,” she said, pulling back to grin at me. “You looked like a goddess. That red satin? It was on fire.”I laughed, shaky and bright. “I

Alessia’s POVI stood in front of the full-length mirror one last time, the backstage lights soft against the emerald silk. The dress clung to me like a second skin. It was bolder than my first, lower in the back, the silver embroidery catching every flicker of light like tiny constellations. I ran my fingertips over the bodice, feeling the texture of the fabric, and a quiet laugh escaped me.It was better than the first.So much better.That realization stung in a way I hadn’t expected. Because it wasn’t just a dress. It was proof. Proof that Salvatore had paid attention. It was proof that he knew me. He knew my taste, my style, the way I wanted to feel when I walked out there. He’d chosen something that made me look dangerous, untouchable, unforgettable. And that knowledge made my chest ache in a sweet, confusing way.I lifted my chin, met my own eyes in the mirror, and smiled.A real smile. Small, but mine.The second round was about to begin.The music began. The models were lined