Phoebe's POV
I was deep in sleep when someone's hands suddenly shook me awake.
Blinking through the haze, I cracked my eyes open to find Samuel hovering beside my bed, his face tense with worry. He was the one who'd disturbed my rest.
"We have to go, my queen," his voice carried an edge of panic. "You're needed in the war room."
I frowned, glancing toward the window where darkness still blanketed the world outside. My drowsy brain struggled to process his words.
"Enemy forces are advancing on the palace."
My eyes flew wide with shock. I scrambled out of bed and grabbed my jacket, but then his earlier words hit me.
Why do they want me in the war room? The confusion gnawed at me. I understood that room was restricted—reserved for classified intel and life-or-death decisions.
"Because you're the queen," Samuel answered, and something almost like guilt colored his tone.
