The throne room gleamed.
Not with gold.
With ambition.
Silks rustled like whispers. Every noble wore perfume, but smelled of danger.
And at the center—like a queen yet uncrowned—stood Elara Valenhart,
flanked by shadows and silence.
The council had summoned her knight.
But she had arrived first.
"This isn't a trial," she said softly.
"It's a message. And I've written mine in fire."
---
Cladus stood still.
Stoic.
Stern.
But beneath his calm—Elara could hear the blade in his breath.
He hadn't spoken since the letter.
Hadn't answered her questions.
"Why didn't you tell me who you were?"
No reply. Only silence that roared between them like thunder in a sealed room.
---
And then—
A voice sang through the marble chamber.
Serina.
Draped in silver, veiled in mock grace.
"Sister," she said, all sugar and venom, "what a surprise. I expected tears. Not tactics."
Elara smiled.
"And yet here I stand. Dry-eyed. With your leash in my hand."
Gasps followed. But Serina only blinked.
"You always were dramatic."
"And you always underestimated me."
She stepped closer—two wolves circling.
"You forged letters in my name."
"You seduced my knight."
"And now you think you're ready to play queen?"
"No," Elara said. "I think I'm ready to win."
Serina's smile faltered.
Just slightly.
---
In the gallery above, Auren leaned on the balcony rail.
He didn't move. Didn't speak.
But gods, how he watched.
His mask was back on.
Humor in his eyes.
A quip on his tongue.
But only the marble beneath his nails knew how hard he was clenching.
"They're playing now," he whispered to no one.
"And I'm still the fool in the middle."
Still the puppet.
Still golden.
Still waiting for a string to snap.
---
The High Chancellor cleared his throat.
"Sir Cladus . Step forward."
Elara stiffened.
Cladus moved.
But before he could speak—before a single accusation flew—
Elara placed one hand on his arm.
"I will answer first," she said.
"You are not on trial, Lady Elara."
"Then make me one. Because I choose to stand between him and your knives."
The court froze.
Even Cladus turned, ever so slightly, to look at her.
But he said nothing.
Because his silence was the only shield he had left.
---
And so it began.
The first move on the board.
A knight, a duchess, a serpent, and a prince painted in laughter.
This was no longer a story.
This was survival.