The moment the great doors swung open, a hush rolled through the grand hall like a sudden wind sweeping across a field. Every head bowed instantly...no hesitation, no scattered movement. Only one unified wave of reverence.
King Valerian Stormborne entered.
He walked with the calm assurance of a man who never needed to declare his power; it radiated from him naturally. His blond hair caught the light from the chandeliers above, glowing like strands spun from sunlight. His eyes...cold, sharp, and impossibly arresting.....swept across the hall with an authority that made even seasoned ministers shrink back instinctively.
He wore a deep black coat embroidered with subtle silver patterns, fitted perfectly to his broad shoulders. The mantle draped over him added to his imposing height, the rich fabric shifting with every purposeful step he took. There was no mistaking it....he was beautiful, he was dangerous, and he was their king.
He ascended the steps leading to the dais with unhurried steps, turned to face the hall, and gave a slight nod.
At once, the people rose to their feet.
Among them, Lady Cynthia Raventhorn did not blink. Her gaze fixed on him with shameless longing, as though he were a dream she'd once touched in her sleep and had spent years chasing since. Her lips parted slightly, her face tightening with envy and hunger.
He should have been mine.
The thought flickered clearly in her narrowed eyes.
Her fists clenched at her sides as she imagined herself standing at the king's right, imagined herself wearing the Queen's crown.....imagined him turning toward her with gentleness rather than the chilling indifference he often reserved for everyone else. And maybe lean down and capture her lips in an endearing kiss. Her cheeks burned and blushed at the thought.
But he did not so much as look in her direction.
Valerian took one step forward, and the hall held its breath.
"My people," he began, his voice deep, smooth, and commanding enough to still every whisper. "Welcome to this blessed day.....the coronation of your future queen."
Silence.
Not the peaceful kind.
The fearful kind.
A few ministers exchanged uneasy glances.
Valerian's gaze hardened.
"I have heard the rumours," he continued. "Every whisper. Every doubt. Every insult."
Several nobles lowered their heads sharply.
"It ends now."
His voice cracked like thunder....quiet thunder, but thunder nonetheless.
"Whether you approve or not, the lady you doubt is my bride," he declared. "By law, by right, and by my will, she will be crowned queen of this realm."
A minister near the front swallowed hard. Another pressed his lips together, staring at the ground.
"If anyone wishes to speak against it," Valerian said, "let them step forward."
No one moved.
"Good." His voice dropped lower, colder. "Because I will tolerate no slander about her curse, her body, or her worth. She is under my protection. To speak against her is to speak against me."
The weight of his words settled heavily over the hall. Some people bowed deeper. Others trembled. All acknowledged him with murmured words of obedience.
Valerian lifted his chin proudly.
"That is all."
Even Cynthia bowed, though her jaw clenched tightly. She dipped her head only because she had no choice, but hatred burned in her eyes.
She wanted to scream.
To claw.
To push Aurelia aside and stand in the place she believed she deserved.
Enjoy your moment, she thought darkly. A crown is easiest to steal when its wearer thinks it is secure. I'll take back what is rightfully mine, she thought.
Her mind was already spinning with schemes, each darker than the last.
******
Time stretched for a heartbeat before the herald stepped forward again, lifting his staff high.
"Presenting....Her Majesty, the future Queen of the Realm… Lady Aurelia Stormborne."
A ripple passed through the hall.
Every head turned.
At the far end of the hall, Aurelia appeared in the doorway, her hand clasped protectively around Vaelric's small one. A veil covered the lower half of her face, but even with it, there was something striking....something bold.....about the way she stood.
No trembling.
No shrinking.
Aurelia held her spine straight, her chin lifted. Her gown of deep blue flowed behind her like quiet water as she took the first step onto the red carpet. The embroidery shimmered softly with each movement, dignified but not ostentatious.
"She's walking like she belongs here," someone whispered, astonished.
"She's cursed," another hissed.
"And yet she looks… regal."
Aurelia ignored every murmur. Her grip on Vaelric tightened, and he squeezed back reassuringly.
"Mother," he whispered, "you're doing great."
She smiled beneath the veil.
They walked forward together....queen and prince, side by side....passing rows of nobles who bowed as she approached.
Her gaze flicked toward the royal family seated near the dais.
Princess Levina shot her a warm smile, practically glowing with excitement. Beside her, Ser Corvin Asterholt sat still, his expression unreadable but respectful enough.
Then Aurelia's eyes fell on the dowager queen.
Aelira's scowl was subtle but deep, carved with disapproval and resentment. She did not bow. She barely even inclined her head.
Of course, Aurelia thought. She hates me.
Lady Rhaelynn stood next...her delicate face arranged into a smile so sweet it was nearly sour. She tilted her head in a gesture that screamed false politeness.
Aurelia's eyes moved to the last figure seated near the corner.
The grand prince.
Daeron Stormborne.
He was smiling.
Not politely.
Not kindly.
Smiling like a devil who had found a new toy to play with.
Their gazes locked.
The smile widened.
Aurelia's heart beat once in her throat, sharp as a warning.
But she did not look away.
If he wanted to play games, then he would soon learn she was not a piece on anyone's board.
Her chin lifted slightly as she passed, veil shifting with her breath.
She continued walking toward the dais where Valerian stood waiting for her, eyes fixed upon her with an intensity that made the hall fade into noise.
And the murmurs swelled again as Aurelia drew close to the throne, her steps calm, steady, and unbreaking.