Serina curtsied. Graceful. Deadly.
"Careful, sister. Queens fall harder when they've tasted power."
The chamber erupted.
Voices. Panic. The Chancellor's quill snapped in half from how tightly he gripped it.
And above it all—Elara stood still.
Flames licked at her thoughts. The docks. The proof. Gone.
Just like that.
She had declared herself checkmate—only to realize Serina was playing a different board entirely.
---
Meanwhile, beyond the rose-marble corridors…
Auren stood at the edge of the terrace.
The lilies still bloomed, unaware of politics.
Unaware of betrayal.
"Burned already?" he murmured. "Tch. How boring."
A shadow approached him.
"It's done. Just like you asked, Highness."
Auren's tone didn't change. But his eyes did.
"All three firebombs?"
"Planted. But only two went off. The last ship's safe. Hidden in the North cove."
"And the manifest?"
"Rewritten. It now bears her seal."
Auren smiled—not the flirtatious grin, not the smirking mask.
But a quiet, calculating curl of the mouth.
"Good. Let Serina taste victory. Let her believe Elara's foundations are ash."
"But what if Lady Elara never finds the last shipment?"
Auren's gaze didn't waver.
"She will. Because I know how she thinks."
He paused, then whispered—just to himself:
"And for once… I don't want her to fall."
The servant hesitated.
"Will you tell her?"
Auren scoffed. Gently.
"Please. She thinks I'm an arrogant ass."
"Aren't you?"
"Oh, absolutely," he said, turning to leave, cloak brushing the petals.
"But even the court clown knows how to hold a kingdom together."
---
Back in the chamber…
Elara lifted her head.
Eyes burning, pride intact.
"You set fire to my move, sister. Clever."
"Then bow," Serina replied sweetly. "And accept your place beneath me."
Elara's smile returned.
"Not quite."
Because deep in her chest—
A quiet hum had begun.
A whisper of something unseen.
Something that had survived the flames.