All Chapters of The human queen : Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

(Kiana – POV, ) The moment we step out of the feast hall I know I am in danger. It starts with silence. Which is worse than noise. I walk beside them, trying to keep my expression calm, my steps steady, my thoughts… contained. But I can feel it. Three pairs of eyes. Watching me. Waiting. I last exactly five seconds. “What?” I say, turning to look at them. Nyara gasps dramatically. “She speaks!” I roll my eyes, but I can already feel the warmth creeping into my face. Selene crosses her arms, her lips curved into a knowing smile. “How was breakfast?” she asks, far too calmly. “It was breakfast,” I reply quickly, continuing to walk. Arielle hums softly behind me. “Was it?” I stop. Turn. Look at them. “It was,” I insist. Nyara walks straight up to me, narrowing her eyes as if she is inspecting something very important. “No,” she says slowly. “It was not.” I try to step around her. She moves with me. “Nyara…” “You did not eat,” she continues. I blink. “I did

(Third Person – pov) Morning light spills gently into the eastern wing of the palace, soft and golden, touching everything it finds with warmth. Here, there is no sickness. No smoke. No fear. Only laughter. “Kiana, stand still!” The Queen’s voice carries across the chamber, firm but filled with affection. Kiana laughs, though she tries to obey, her hands lifting slightly as two attendants circle her, adjusting layers of fabric that seem to grow more complicated with each passing moment. “I am standing still,” she insists, though her shoulders shake with quiet amusement. “You are moving,” one of the attendants replies, trying and failing not to smile. “You are both making her nervous,” the Queen says, stepping forward with measured grace. Her hands move with practiced ease, smoothing the fabric at Kiana’s waist, adjusting a fold near her shoulder. The gown is not yet complete. But already it is beautiful. Soft fabrics cascade around her, light catching on delicate threa

King Thalric – POV, The hall empties slowly after he leaves. No one speaks. No one dares. I remain where I stand long after the doors have closed behind him. Kiana. The name echoes louder now. Not as a daughter. Not as laughter in the halls. As a price. My hands tighten at my sides, fingers curling until the tension burns into my palms. One day. He gives me one day. As if time is something I still control. As if choice remains mine to make. I turn at last, walking out of the hall with measured steps. No one stops me. No one questions me. Guards bow their heads as I pass, their eyes fixed on the floor, unwilling to meet my gaze. Because they already know. There is no solution. Only a choice. And I already hate it. The walk to the Queen’s chambers feels heavier than any battlefield I have stood on. Each step drags against the weight pressing down on my chest. I have faced war. I have watched soldiers fall beside me. I have carried wounded men from fields soaked in b

Kiana – POV, I don’t understand. The words echo in my mind, louder than everything else around me. One hour. The wedding will take place in one hour. I stare at him as he walks away, his presence still lingering long after he is gone. The air feels colder now, heavier, like something has shifted that cannot be undone. My body feels wrong. Too still. Too heavy. As if I have forgotten how to move. Then I turn. My eyes find my father. “Father…?” My voice trembles. So do my hands. “What is he talking about?” No one answers. The silence presses against me, thick and suffocating. It fills the space between us until it feels like I cannot breathe inside it. I take a step forward. My breath grows uneven now, my chest tightening with something I cannot name. Something sharp and spreading. “Father, what is he talking about?” I ask again, louder this time. He looks at me. But not the way he usually does. Not with warmth. Not with patience. There is something in his eyes

King Idra – POV, The ceremony means nothing once it is done. What matters Is what follows. The palace does not celebrate. There is no music. No laughter. Only silence. Heavy. Unwelcome. As expected. Preparations are already underway by the time I step out of the hall. The stone beneath my boots echoes with each movement, sharp and deliberate, cutting through the stillness that has settled over the palace like a storm waiting to break. My men move efficiently. Horses are readied in the courtyard, their breath visible in the cool air. Carriages stand in position, polished and prepared. Guards line the outer walls, watchful and disciplined, their armor glinting faintly beneath the dull sky. We leave today. I do not intend to remain here longer than necessary. Behind me, I hear her footsteps. Unsteady. But present. She follows. Good. I do not turn to look at her. There is nothing I need to confirm. Obedience has already been secured. “She wil