A hush followed, until Lord Elador stepped forward, clearing his throat.
"Your Majesty... the walls of the east gate have crumbled. Bandits enter freely, and trade caravans no longer pass through Eudoria. The treasury is…" he hesitated "…a ghost of its former self; also we must reopen trade with the Eastern Isles. I suggest lowering tariffs and offering rare artefacts in exchange. Our treasury cannot withstand another drought."
"Strength is the only language these kingdoms understand. I propose we rebuild the army and demand allegiance from the border provinces. Peace has only made us weak." Chimed in Duke Marrowind standing tall now facing the Queen like they were acquainted.
One glance at him and Freya smiled, understanding all this was far beyond her, but she could see through the man in her sight. People who were ready to take advantage of your down.
In parts of Queens's memories she saw this particular man always in the corner but did not choose to expose him, the type of traitors that would keep her busy for the time being.
"You're Highness…" bowed a lady in muted crimson, her hands trembling slightly as she spoke, "The land is cursed, Your Grace. Ritual cleansing is needed. Perhaps... removing the old king's tomb and burning the remaining royal relics will break the hold."
A heavy silence followed.
The officials exchanged uneasy glances. No one dared to echo her suggestion, but no one spoke against it either.
Lady Virelle, standing like a column of shadowed grace, smiled politely her gaze never rising. "How bold," she said softly, her voice like silk hiding steel. "To suggest we erase the roots of our history in hopes of unbinding the future."
Having a woman seated among officials was rare. One that's brave enough to speak curses into court? Unheard of.
Freya tilted her head, eyes narrowing with thoughtful calm. "Even the dead carry weight. But I will not burn what still breathes in memory. There are other ways to cleanse a kingdom."
Her words held finality, yet left the room colder than before.
Lady Vielle's gaze finally lifted slowly, boldly locking with Freya's.
"No, Your Majesty," she said, voice firm but laced with quiet grief. "Not all memories deserve preservation."
The court stiffened. Freya's fingers curled lightly around the arm of her throne, but she said nothing.
Virelle took a step forward. "The former king did not die from sickness or blade. He bartered with something beyond us traded bloodlines for power. What cursed Eudoria wasn't fate, it was his hunger. That hunger still feeds... through his tomb, through the relics he bound with whispers and rituals we were forbidden to question."
A heavy silence swallowed the hall.
"If you do not burn what he left behind," Virelle continued, "the land will remain tethered to his ruin. Crops will wither, walls will crumble, and no amount of gold or soldiers will change that."
Freya's breath caught. "And you…" Virelle added, her voice softer now, "will fade, just as he did. Not from weakness, but from a curse meant to punish all who carry his name."
Whispers broke out among the officials. But Freya's world was silent her eyes locked with the woman who dared speak the truth
Gasps followed her words, but Lady Virelle stood unmoved, her dark eyes unwavering. A quiet strength surrounded her one that hadn't always belonged to a courtier.
She raised her chin. "There's something else you should know, Your Majesty. I am not just a councilwoman." Her voice dropped, low and resolute. "I am the daughter of Lysaria, the last High Witch of Eudoria."
A sharp intake of breath echoed around the room. Whispers turned to fear.
"My mother was burned by these very people," she continued, "for trying to cleanse this land long before the king's corruption. Since then, I vowed to bury my power, to survive. But now..." Her gaze flicked over Freya with something close to reverence, "Now I smell the old magic again alive, pulsing from you."
The weight in the air grew heavier.
"You carry something within you, something ancient... either a gift or a curse." She stepped forward slowly. "And that is why I cannot stay silent. If we don't burn what remains of him, if we let his shadow linger... it will destroy not just this land, but you."
Freya's eyes narrowed, studying Virelle. The murmurs around them blurred into nothing. She rose slowly from her throne, every movement deliberate.
"Come," she said softly, yet her voice cut through the air like ice. "With me."
Virelle followed in silence, her steps light but steady. Behind the heavy doors of the council chamber, Freya led her to a secluded chamber the Queen's Mirror Room. It reflected truth… and lies.
Freya turned. "Remove it." Virelle blinked. "You're Majesty?"
"The glamour. Show me who you really are."
A long pause. Then Virelle exhaled, fingers brushing her temple. The air shimmered faintly as her plain features peeled away like mist, revealing a young woman with radiant skin, sharp golden eyes, and hair the colour of ash kissed with light. She was breath-taking, powerful but there was sadness in her beauty.
"This is me," Virelle whispered. Freya stepped forward, inches away. "You were once hated."
"Yes."
"But you still chose to serve."
"I choose you," Virelle said. "Because I see in you what they tried to kill in my mother—fire wrapped in kindness. Magic laced with purpose."
Freya was silent. Then, softly, "Swear to me. Swear your power is mine to command... and I'll make sure they fear what they once burned."
Virelle knelt, bowing her head. "By my blood, I swear."Virelle remained on one knee, golden eyes lifting to meet Freya's.
"Your Majesty… I also know something deeper. Something others cannot see." Her voice dropped into a whisper, reverent but sharp. "You are not Queen Genevieve… at least, not entirely."
Freya stiffened, lips parting in stunned silence.