The corridors of the castle were unusually quiet that night. The laughter and clamor of the feast had long faded into memory, yet Serenya could still hear its echoes—the ringing of goblets, the sharp claps of applause, the murmurs of nobles who watched her every step.
And yet, beneath the veil of celebration, there had been something else. Something she could not shake off. Too many glances lingered too long, too many whispers hushed when she entered a hall. The unease clung to her even now as she paced in her private chamber, the moonlight painting silver patterns across the floor.
Why does it feel as though I am surrounded not by allies, but by wolves?
A soft knock broke her thoughts. Serenya turned sharply. "Who is it?"
"It is I, my queen—Marenne."
At once, her features softened. Lady Marenne had served her since her maiden years, long before the crown weighed upon her head. If there was anyone she could trust within these walls, it was her.
"Enter," Serenya said.
Marenne slipped inside, her expression pale, her hands twisting nervously at her skirts. "Forgive me for disturbing you at this hour, but I could not wait until dawn. I… overheard something."
Serenya's pulse quickened. "Speak."
The handmaid lowered her voice. "Two courtiers spoke near the kitchens, believing themselves alone. They said gold has exchanged hands in the promise of betrayal. My queen… they spoke of you."
For a long moment, Serenya stood still, her face unreadable. Only the tightening of her grip upon the window ledge betrayed the storm within.
"Did they name the traitor?"
Marenne shook her head. "No, only that the serpent hides close. Too close."
The words struck Serenya like a dagger. She dismissed Marenne with gentle words, but her mind was aflame. Close. Someone within the court… perhaps even among those who toasted me tonight.
Her gaze fell upon the necklace laid out upon her dresser—a heavy chain of silver, set with a ruby as dark and red as blood. Duke Haland had presented it at the feast, a gift he claimed was to honor her grace and wisdom. She had smiled, as courtesy demanded, but in truth, his eyes unsettled her. They lingered not with reverence, but calculation, as though he measured her worth not as queen, but as pawn.
She touched the necklace now and shivered.
Where was Alderic? The king's absence stretched on like an unanswered question. He had written of border disputes, of negotiations with the northern tribes, but Serenya's heart whispered doubt. Is he truly hindered by duty—or has something darker kept him away?
Her thoughts spiraled until she made a choice. If there were whispers of betrayal, she could not remain idle. She must act, or be consumed.
At dawn, she summoned Kael.
The captain of her guard arrived swiftly, armored yet silent, his loyalty etched in the stern lines of his face. He knelt. "My queen."
"Rise," Serenya said, and once he did, she studied him closely. In Kael, she had never doubted. His devotion was unwavering, his eyes sharp, his sword swifter still.
"There are snakes in this court," she whispered, pacing before him. "They coil in shadows, whispering against me. Last night, I heard hints of betrayal. I need to know who plots, Kael. And I need to know where Alderic truly is."
Kael's jaw clenched. "Do you suspect Duke Haland?"
Her gaze flickered to the ruby necklace again. "He cloaks himself in courtesy, yet there is venom in his eyes. Watch him, Kael. Quietly. If he breathes treachery, I want to know before his tongue completes the word."
Kael bowed deeply. "Consider it done. I will weave my men among his servants, and none will suspect."
"And Kael," Serenya added, her voice softer now, "find me the truth of the king. I cannot fight battles here while blind to what lies beyond these walls."
Their eyes met for a fleeting moment—hers, heavy with worry; his, dark and resolute. "I will not fail you," he swore.
As the doors shut behind him, Serenya sank into her chair, the weight of the crown pressing heavier than ever. She was no longer a maiden at court, nor merely a queen in ceremony. She was a player in a dangerous game—one where the stakes were her throne, her life, and the fragile hope of a kingdom that still believed in her.
And in the silence that followed, she realized something chilling:
The game had already begun.