But Then ;
The hall fell silent the moment the Queen Mother stood.
Not because she raised her voice.
Not because she demanded attention.
But because her presence filled every corner of the room like the tightening of a noose.
Her crown gleamed under the chandeliers, sharp as cold fire.
Observing So Far....
she paused and looked at me !!
My fingers curled into my dress.
"Maya Montclair," she said slowly, each word dipped in ancient authority. "Step forward."
Zayn shifted beside me.
His hand brushed mine —
But even he could not shield me from this moment.
I walked forward.
My footsteps echoed in the hall.
Every noble's gaze burned into me.
Celestine's lips curved — not yet a smile, more like anticipation.
The Queen Mother's eyes narrowed.
"For centuries," she began, "the throne has chosen queens not by sentiment… but by blood, legacy, and capability."
Zayn's jaw tightened.
Azael watched from the shadows, expression unreadable.
"But now," the Queen Mother continued, "we stand on dangerous ground. A prince who defies tradition. A marriage made of emotion rather than duty. And a young woman," her gaze cut into me, "whose bloodline remains unverified, whose upbringing remains questionable… yet whose presence has disrupted ancient balance."
My heart hammered.
The murmurs in the hall swelled — some curious, some hostile.
I swallowed.
"I have never wished to disrupt anything, Your Majesty. I only—"
She lifted a hand.
Silence snapped instantly.
"I am not interested in what you wish, child."
Celestine's eyes glittered.
The Queen Mother's voice softened — not kindly, but dangerously calm.
"The Crown Bells reacted to you. Why?"
I froze.
Because the Crown recognized your blood…
Because you were never meant to be hidden…
Because you are the daughter of a forgotten queen…
The Voices of the Crown whispered through my memory.
I said nothing.
"You cannot answer?" she pressed. "Or you will not?"
Zayn stepped forward.
"Mother—"
"Do not speak for her," she snapped, authority cutting through the air like a blade. "If she intends to stand beside the throne, she must stand on her own strength."
A ripple went through the nobles.
I drew a slow breath.
"I don't have an answer that would satisfy you yet. But I know the Bells do not react to ordinary people."
The Queen Mother's eyebrow lifted slightly — the tiniest flicker of surprise.
Then she stepped down from the dais, her robes whispering across the marble floor.
When she stopped before me, she was close enough that I could see the fine lines of age, power, and burden etched into her face.
"Then you will prove it."
My pulse stuttered.
"Prove… what?"
"That you are worthy of the prince who chose you," she said, voice low and deliberate.
"And worthy of the Crown that seems to think you belong to it."
My breath caught.
The entire hall leaned closer.
Celestine's chin lifted, confident.
Zayn's hand tightened behind his back, a silent storm.
Azael's eyes darkened — not with malice… but concern.
The Queen Mother raised her voice, letting it ring across the hall:
"By royal tradition, when a bride's lineage is uncertain, and when the throne detects a presence it cannot explain, she must face The First Gate of Worthiness."
A collective gasp.
My stomach dropped.
Zayn's eyes widened.
"No. Absolutely not—"
"Silence!" the Queen Mother thundered.
He froze.
Then she looked back at me.
"Maya Montclair, you will stand before the court at dawn," she said, "and you will undergo the First Gate."
My mouth went dry.
"What does that mean?" I whispered.
Her lips curved faintly — not in kindness.
"In this kingdom," she said, "a queen must carry not only beauty or love… but the heart, wisdom, and courage to carry a nation."
She stepped back.
"Tomorrow, we will see if you have any of the three."
The hall exploded in whispers.
Zayn reached me instantly, his hand on my waist, grounding me.
"Maya, you don't have to—"
"I do," I whispered, voice trembling.
He shook his head.
"You're not ready."
"Ready or not," came another voice —
Azael.
He stepped forward, face tight.
"The First Gate tests the deepest part of who you are," he said quietly. "Not skill… not knowledge… but truth. It strips you bare."
Zayn turned sharply.
"You know what she's trying to do."
"Yes," Azael said simply. "And that's why Maya must not face it alone."
The Queen Mother's eyes narrowed.
"Azael. Step back."
"For the first time in your reign," he replied, "I refuse."
Gasps erupted.
Zayn stared at him.
"You're… defending her?"
Azael's gaze held mine — unreadable, intense.
"She needs guidance," he said.
"And whether you want to admit it or not… I understand the Gates better than anyone here."
The Queen Mother's lips tightened.
"Azael—"
"Let him speak," I said suddenly.
The room froze.
Even Zayn turned to me, shocked.
My voice was steady — steadier than I felt.
"If the First Gate is about truth," I said, lifting my chin, "then let every truth come.
Let every shadow be revealed.
Let every lie fall."
The Queen Mother's expression didn't change — but something flickered in her eyes.
Respect. Or warning. I couldn't tell.
"Very well," she said softly. "If you wish to walk into fire… the kingdom will watch."
Her next words dropped like a blade:
"Tomorrow, when the sun rises, the First Gate will open."
Azael exhaled sharply.
Zayn pulled me closer, whispering my name.
But all I could hear was the Queen Mother's final decree:
"And when it ends… we will finally learn who you are."
The hall darkened.
A cold wind swept through the pillars.
The nobles bowed and retreated.
But I felt it —
the shift,
the stir,
the pulse—
The Crown was waiting.
And something in the palace whispered:
She will either rise…
or she will be unmade.