The summons came in the form of a pressed violet, tucked inside her glove chest.
No words.
No seal.
Only a flower.
But in the coded language of the palace, it was an unmistakable message.
A meeting.
A secret one.
And by accepting, Selene would be stepping fully into the shadows she had only skimmed before.
She considered ignoring it.
Burning the flower.
Pretending she had never seen it.
But queens who survived did not turn away from the whispers in the dark.
They learned to speak in them.
Selene chose a gown of deep blue velvet, understated but expensive, and pulled her cloak tight against the chill night air.
She left her chambers alone, as the clock struck the first bell of midnight.
The palace corridors stretched silent around her, empty save for the flicker of torchlight and the distant echo of her own steps.
The meeting was to be held in the abandoned wing of the eastern tower.
A place once reserved for honored guests, long since fallen to dust and disuse.
She reached the door without incident.
It was cracked open, just enough.
Inviting.
She pushed it wider and stepped into darkness.
A hand grabbed her wrist instantly.
Selene did not flinch.
Another hand covered her eyes with a soft cloth.
Blindfolded.
Without a word spoken.
She allowed it.
Because she understood the rules.
No names.
No faces.
No witnesses.
Only intentions.
They led her through twisting corridors, deeper into the old wing.
The scent of mold and cold stone filled her lungs.
She counted her steps.
Thirty to the right.
Fourteen down a spiral staircase.
Twelve across another hall.
Then, finally, they stopped.
The blindfold was removed.
And Selene found herself in a low, domed chamber lit by dozens of guttering candles.
Around her, cloaked figures stood in a loose circle.
Some tall.
Some slight.
All masked.
All silent.
The Hidden Court.
One figure stepped forward.
A woman, judging by her voice.
"Queen Selene," she said, her tone smooth as water over stones. "You honor us."
Selene offered a shallow nod.
"I do not honor shadows lightly."
A soft ripple of amusement moved through the gathered crowd.
The woman smiled beneath her mask.
"Then let us speak plainly."
She gestured to a chair carved from dark wood, placed at the center of the circle.
Selene hesitated only a moment before sitting.
She folded her hands neatly in her lap, her posture regal and composed.
She would not beg.
She would not plead.
Let them see a queen who did not kneel even in the company of traitors.
The woman continued.
"You know why you are here."
Selene tilted her head slightly.
"Enlighten me."
"Veredon is bleeding. The king's rule weakens by the day. His enemies grow stronger, braver, bolder."
The woman stepped closer.
"But we believe salvation lies not in rebellion."
She paused.
"Not in destruction."
Selene arched an eyebrow.
"And what then?"
"In renewal," the woman said.
"In crowning the right sovereign."
A heartbeat of silence.
Selene kept her expression blank.
"Careful," she said lightly. "You speak treason."
The woman laughed softly.
"No, my queen. We speak truth."
Another figure stepped forward, a man, judging by his height and broad shoulders.
"You have proven yourself," he said. "You have survived."
He knelt before her, removing his mask.
Selene's stomach tightened.
It was Lord Darion Veyne.
A minor noble, wealthy, unremarkable, until now.
He looked up at her with fierce, burning eyes.
"You have the blood," he said.
"You have the will."
"You have our loyalty."
One by one, the others removed their masks.
Familiar faces.
The merchant lord Corvin Dalreth.
Lady Virenia, pale but defiant.
Three captains of the royal guard.
Even a priest from the sacred temple of the Twin Moons.
Selene's mind raced.
This was not a small rebellion.
It was an infestation.
And they were offering it to her.
A ready-made kingdom, in exchange for a crown.
The woman who had spoken first approached again.
She lowered her hood.
Selene recognized her instantly.
Lady Alessa of Rivermount.
One of the sharpest, most poisonous vipers in court.
Selene had long suspected her of disloyalty.
But not this.
Never this.
Lady Alessa smiled.
"Say the word," she said, voice low and coaxing. "And the court will be yours. Cassian will fall. Bloodlessly, if he surrenders. Bloodily, if he does not."
Selene stood slowly.
The circle parted around her like a wave against rock.
She walked among them, studying each face.
Each traitor.
Each dreamer.
Each desperate player in a game older than any throne.
"You ask me to betray my king," she said.
"You ask me to break my oath."
Lady Alessa's smile sharpened.
"No," she said.
"We ask you to fulfill your destiny."
Selene stopped at the center again.
She turned slowly, letting her gaze sweep across them.
And then she spoke.
"You offer loyalty," she said.
"But loyalty bought in secret is loyalty that bleeds at the first cut."
Murmurs rippled through the circle.
"You offer a crown," she continued, "but a crown built on sand crumbles at the first storm."
She stepped forward until she stood nose to nose with Lady Alessa.
"And Veredon will not be ruled by cowards."
Lady Alessa's smile faded.
"You would refuse?" she asked softly.
Selene smiled.
And it was a terrible, beautiful thing.
"I would rule."
The room held its breath.
Then Selene's voice cut through the dark.
"If I accept," she said, "you serve me. Not in secret. Not in shame. But openly."
"If I accept," she said, "there will be no mercy for those who falter."
"If I accept," she said, "you will kneel before me and you will stay on your knees until the blood you spilled is washed clean."
Her voice dropped to a whisper.
"And if you betray me… I will end you myself."
Lady Alessa stared at her.
Then, slowly, gracefully, she sank to one knee.
"My queen," she said.
One by one, the others followed.
The guards.
The merchants.
The priest.
All on their knees.
All eyes lifted to Selene.
All waiting.
Selene inhaled slowly.
This was not the path she had planned.
It was not the future she had wanted.
But it was the future that had come.
The fire had found her.
And she was ready to burn.