The great council chamber of Eldoria was built to impress and intimidate. Columns of black marble stretched toward the vaulted ceiling, gilded with carvings of angels and beasts locked in eternal combat. Long windows poured sunlight across the polished floor, though shadows clung in the corners like watchful sentinels.
Sophie's slippers clicked softly as she followed the herald down the length of the hall. Every step seemed to echo, drawing eyes toward her. Lords, ministers, and generals were already gathered, their murmurs falling silent as she passed.
At the far end, on the dais beneath the crest of the realm, Alexander sat in his carved throne of obsidian and gold. The crown rested lightly upon his brow, but his presence was heavier than steel. His eyes, sharp as a hawk's, never left her.
Sophie's breath quickened. She had not been summoned to council before—not formally. The timing unsettled her. After Nara's cryptic warning in the laundry halls, she had sensed Alexander's watch tightening. Now, here she was, thrust into the blaze of public scrutiny with no explanation.
Eira had warned her just that morning: He's testing you.
Sophie raised her chin as she approached the dais. She would not falter.
"Your Majesty," the herald announced, bowing low, "the Queen joins the council."
Alexander's lips curved into a faint smile that never touched his eyes. "Let her be seated beside me," he commanded.
A chair, smaller but finely wrought, had been placed at his right hand. Sophie lowered herself into it, her hands folded tightly in her lap, forcing composure onto her face.
The meeting began. Reports of border raids, grain shortages, and trade disputes filled the air, voices rising and clashing like clashing blades. Sophie listened, her mind spinning. She had little knowledge of statecraft in this realm, yet she felt Alexander's gaze flick to her often—as though he measured not only her silence, but the thoughts behind it.
Then, too suddenly, he shifted the spotlight.
"Tell me, my queen," Alexander said, his voice carrying easily across the chamber, silencing others mid-sentence. "What would you do, were you asked to judge the loyalty of a servant who has grown… curious about things best left alone?"
The question struck her like cold water. Her throat tightened. She forced herself to meet his gaze, though her pulse thundered.
The council leaned forward, hungry for her answer. Some smirked, others frowned, but all listened.
Sophie's thoughts darted wildly. He's not speaking of servants. He's speaking of me.
Careful, she told herself. Careful.
"I would ask," she said slowly, "what drives that curiosity. A loyal heart may seek truth for the good of the crown. A disloyal one seeks it for themselves. Only intent can tell the difference."
A low murmur spread through the chamber. Alexander's eyes narrowed, as though dissecting every syllable.
"And if that intent were unclear?" he pressed.
Sophie drew a steadying breath. "Then I would watch. And wait. A loyal heart will prove itself in time. A disloyal one will stumble into its own undoing."
The murmur grew louder, rippling through the council like a stirred hive. Some nodded approval; others whispered suspicion.
Alexander leaned back in his throne, fingers tapping once against the armrest. "A patient answer," he said, his voice unreadable. "Perhaps even a wise one."
But Sophie caught it—the sharp gleam of challenge in his eyes.
The council moved on to other matters, but the air remained taut. Sophie sat still, every nerve alive, knowing she had been measured and weighed in front of them all.
At last, the formal session ended. Ministers bowed, generals saluted, and courtiers dispersed. Yet Alexander did not dismiss Sophie.
When the chamber was nearly empty, he rose, the sweep of his cloak whispering across the marble. "Walk with me," he commanded softly.
Sophie obeyed, her heart pounding. They passed beneath the arching doors into the quieter corridors, the sound of their steps mingling in the silence. Guards followed at a distance, shadows on their heels.
"You spoke well today," Alexander said at last.
"Thank you, Majesty." Her voice was steady, though her palms were damp.
"Yet you chose caution over truth," he continued, his tone unreadable. "Why?"
Sophie faltered, then recovered. "Because truth is often tangled. And in public, Majesty, untangling it carelessly can wound more than it heals."
For a long moment, he studied her, his eyes unreadable pools of storm. Then, unexpectedly, he chuckled. Low and dangerous. "You learn quickly."
Relief washed through her, but it was thin and fleeting.
Alexander stopped before a tall window, the kingdom sprawling beyond it in sunlit haze. His hands clasped behind his back, his profile cut sharp against the light.
"Do you know why I called you here?" he asked without looking at her.
"To test me," Sophie admitted softly.
He glanced at her then, a faint smile curving his lips. "At least you don't pretend otherwise."
Sophie dared a step closer, her voice trembling despite her will. "Majesty, I would never betray your trust. I only… seek to understand this place, its people. I want to belong here, truly."
Alexander's gaze lingered on her face, sharp and penetrating. "We shall see," he murmured.
Then he turned away, striding down the corridor, leaving her standing in the sunlight, her heart rattling in her chest.
Eira was waiting when Sophie returned to her chambers, her eyes wide with worry. "What happened?"
Sophie sank onto a chair, pressing trembling hands together. "He put me in front of them all. Asked me to judge loyalty as though I were the one on trial."
"And what did you say?"
Sophie recounted her words, and Eira's face paled. "That's dangerous. Too clever, too cautious. He'll think you're hiding something."
"I am hiding something," Sophie whispered fiercely. "We both are. But I can't stop now. Nara's warning—Seraphina, the prophecy—there's too much at stake. If Alexander already suspects, then maybe the only way forward is through."
Eira grabbed her hands, squeezing tight. "Then we must be twice as careful. Every move you make, every word you speak, he will weigh. And next time, he may not test you in a council chamber. He may corner you where there are no witnesses at all."
Sophie shivered. Yet despite her fear, determination sparked in her chest. Alexander could set his traps—but she would not walk blindly into them.
She would find the truth, whatever it cost.
Meanwhile, in his private chambers, Alexander dismissed his advisors and poured himself a cup of wine. He did not drink. He stood at the window, staring out at the horizon where storm clouds gathered.
Sophie had not broken. She had not confessed, nor stumbled, nor cowered. Instead, she had danced carefully across his snares with unexpected grace.
It both impressed him—and infuriated him.
"She is no simple pawn," he murmured. "But is she queen… or traitor?"
His grip on the cup tightened. One thing was certain: he would know soon enough.