The wind howled outside the palace walls, tugging at the flags like an omen. Morning had not yet broken, and the corridors were thick with silence, the kind that listens.
I sat alone in the war chamber.
Maps were scattered across the long obsidian table, marked with ink and blood. Routes of escape. Names of traitors. Supply chains I could burn to ash.
A lone candle flickered beside me, its flame dancing like a whisper of defiance.
Keal was late.
He was supposed to meet me. Not as a spy. Not as a traitor. As the boy who once carried my broken sword back from the battlefield, ashamed that it had snapped.
I heard his steps before I saw him.
Measured. Hesitant.
When he entered, he looked like a man unraveling.
"You summoned me?" he asked.
I studied him. His tunic was wrinkled, like he'd slept in it. Or hadn't slept at all.
"Close the door."
He did.
Silence stretched between us. Then, I stood and circled the table.
"Tell me," I said, "why you joined them."
His breath hitched. "Del, I never meant—"
"Lies are loud. Don't speak them."
His hands clenched. "It started before you ever returned. They said you were dead. They said we needed a future Delyra could believe in. One without ghosts. One without war."
"So you sold me."
"I tried to protect you!"
My laugh was bitter. "By marking me for death?"
"By steering them away from your mother."
That stopped me.
"What?"
He swallowed. "They wanted her dead. They thought she was your weakness."
I stepped forward, blade-fast. "She is not my weakness. She is my reason."
He lowered his eyes. "I gave them false leads. I swore I could control you. Keep you too distracted to find the truth."
"And when that failed?"
He looked up, eyes wet. "I warned you. I begged you to leave. To run."
"You wanted me to live as a fugitive."
"I wanted you to live."
I turned away, fury rising cold through my ribs. "You're a coward."
"Maybe," he whispered.
We stood in the silence.
Then, slowly, he stepped to the table. From his coat, he drew a folded letter and laid it before me.
"They plan to poison your water. The royal table. At the next council."
I took it, unfolded it, scanned the contents. It was coded, but I recognized the cipher. His handwriting.
He'd betrayed them.
Or maybe he never stopped betraying someone.
"Why are you giving me this now?"
He didn't answer right away.
"Because I can't keep watching you burn and calling it loyalty."
I folded the letter again. Tucked it into my belt.
"You're done here, Keal."
His breath caught. "You mean—"
"Leave the palace. Tonight. If I see your face again, I won't hesitate."
He nodded, slow, broken. Then turned and left.
As the door clicked shut behind him, I sat again.
The candle was almost gone.
I stared at the maps and wondered how many more would betray me before this ended.
And how many I would have to destroy to win.
The next morning, I ordered all the wine in the royal cellar destroyed.
When the steward demanded an explanation, I told him his vintage tasted like ash.
By dusk, three of the kitchen staff had vanished.
By midnight, I knew where they'd gone.
Nira returned from the catacombs, a bloodstained note clenched in her hand. "We found the poison."
"How much?"
"Enough to kill the council twice."
I nodded. "Then they should be careful what they sip."
She grinned, sharp as glass.
That night, I wrote letters in code to every loyalist commander I had left. I told them what was coming. I told them to choose.
And I signed each one:
The White Flame of Delyra.
I stood again at the mirror that night, blood on my sleeve.
And for the first time, I saw the queen in the glass.
She did not smile.
But gods, she was real.