"The King has been captured," Selene said, her voice echoing through the cold, stone chamber.
The moment she, Travis, and Lila had returned, a council meeting had been called. Well—Travis had called it. Selene wouldn't have bothered. She had little patience for a room full of bitter men who clung to their titles like rusted armor. But Travis had insisted on their importance, especially now.
"What do you mean the King has been captured?" one of them asked, his tone lined with disdain.
"It means exactly that—the King is now in enemy hands," Travis replied evenly.
"Yes, fool, since you clearly need help understanding what 'captured' means," Selene snapped.
The man glared at her but said nothing, lips pressed into a tight, sour line.
"And how did you come by this information?" another councilman asked, brow raised skeptically.
"We came across a village," Travis began, his voice colder now. "Burnt to a crisp. My brothers-in-arms, all slaughtered. We found the King's sword buried in the earth, next to the rotting carcass of a horse."
He paused, letting the weight of his words settle.
"It was Bluelight," he added. "The King's horse."
The room fell silent as chill passed through the chamber.
"Gods…"
"Are you certain of what you speak?"
"Yes."
"If the King is gone—"
"Then a dark future awaits us all."
Murmurs filled the room, their earlier smugness crumbling into fear and uncertainty.
Selene let them drown in their panic a moment longer before speaking again. "Are you all quite finished?" she asked coolly. "Good. Because while you all panic and piss yourselves, I have a plan. We march. I will lead an army east. We will track Ronan, find him, and—if the gods are merciful—bring him home."
The councilmen all looked at her like she spoke a foreign language.
"You?" Lord Arthon barked out a laugh, fat shoulders shaking. "You'll lead an army?"
"She thinks she can command an army like she commands her maids?"
"Then she's madder than I thought—"
"A Woman, leading men into war?"
"This is what happens when we respect women too much."
"Does she think she's a war goddess now?"
Selene raised her chin, meeting their ridicule head-on. "I am Queen. I have every right to lead."
"You are Ronan's Queen," Lord Jerrold said, rising slowly, his lined face curled into a sneer. "Your authority exists because he lives. If he is dead—then you're nothing but a widow. And unless you are with child, your claim to the throne is dust."
The words hit like a slap. Not because they surprised her—but because of how smugly they were delivered. She could already hear them plotting. If Ronan never returned…
Travis stepped forward before she could respond. "I saw her lift Valerius," he thundered firmly. "I saw it with my own eyes."
There was another long silence. The councilmen all looking at eachother.
Murmurs rippled again.
"That's not possible," scoffed Lord Dermott. "The King's sword is bonded. Enchanted to recognize only his blood."
"Exactly. The King's sword only answers to him. It cannot be wielded by a anyone—let alone a woman."
"Well, Queen Selene did." Travis said. "If Valerius chose her, then the realm must too. She may not be Ronan, but she has his blade. And I'll follow that sword to the gates of hell if I have to."
"Spoken like a man smitten," someone muttered.
"Spoken like a man who saw what none of you believe possible!" Travis shot back.
"Then let her prove it," Lord Jerrold challenged. "Where is the sword?"
The room turned to Selene.
She said nothing.
Instead, She brushed her cloak aside, revealing the hilt of Valerius gleaming against her hip. The breath caught in several throats.
Then, with one smooth motion, she drew the blade.
Steel rang out, singing as she raised it high.
Not a single man spoke.
Mouths hung open. Eyes widened.
Valerius!! The King's sword—rested in the hands of a woman.
Of her.
Selene's gaze swept the room.
"You fear me because I am not what you expected. Because I'm not stupid and male and easily manipulated. But I am Queen—and I hold the King's blade. So unless one of you wants to duel me for the right to lead," she said, her hand brushing Valerius's hilt, "I suggest you stop groveling and start acting."
The room fell silent again. A few cleared their throats. One coughed awkwardly. No one stood.
Then, finally, a voice broke through.
"So… what is your plan, Your Majesty?"
Selene smiled, Satisfied.
"We'll gather the remainder of the royal army," she said. "We'll search every mountain, every marsh, every damned corner of this kingdom until we find the King—and bring him back."
"And if you encounter the Rebellion?" one of the older councilmen asked, his tone careful not wanting to provoke her. "Forgive my bluntness, but… you're a woman with no battlefield experience."
Selene tilted her head, eyes narrowing.
"Who said I have no experience?"
The man paled. His lips parted, then snapped shut.
"In my absence," Selene continued, turning back to the council, "the lot of you will manage the kingdom. I trust that won't be too difficult, given how quick you were to question rather than act."
Her gaze swept across the chamber.
"And if your prayers are answered—if I die—then by all means, choose another Queen. A softer one. More pliable. Easier to manipulate." Her voice dipped. "But for the sake of the realm, let's hope the King returns. Alive. And soon."
With that, Selene turned on her heel and walked towards the doors, offering no dismissal, asking for none.
The chamber remained hushed as she left. The councilmen watched her go, each one stewing in a storm of doubt, resentment, awe… and something else.
Fear.