The Grand Hall is packed.
Every member of the Royal Council is seated in ceremonial robes. The air is thick, not with incense, not with perfume but with questions. Waiting and watching.
Cassian and I walk in together, hand in hand. He's silent, jaw tight, and gazes forward. I try to match his stride, but my chest is tight as though the walls themselves are pressing in.
I don't speak. Neither does he. There are no words for this moment.
At the far end of the hall sits Queen Morgana, propped in her recovery chair like a figure carved out of ice. She looks pale. Distant. Her fingers are draped over the armrest, one ringless. She doesn't look at me. Not once.
Shea sits in the corner, not hiding, not shrinking but silent. Her chin is raised slightly, but her eyes flicker with uncertainty.
Lord Edric rises from his seat. "We are gathered here to hear the truth," he announces, voice as even as a judge's gavel. "No rumours. No suspicions but the facts only."
He nods toward the two doctors, dressed in full white with silver pins on their shoulders, royal medical insignia.
One of them steps forward with a crisp white envelope. No sound is louder in the room than the quiet rustle as he opens it.
"Seventy-two hours ago," the doctor begins, "blood samples were drawn from Princess Celeste Lucien, and from Lady Shea of the palace, at the request of this council, in order to establish potential biological connection to Her Royal Majesty, Queen Morgana of Matica."
He pauses, eyes skimming the parchment in his hands.
"Both tests have been independently verified by the kingdom's three top labs."
My fingers dig into the folds of my gown.
The doctor inhales. And then he speaks.
"Results show… that Lady Shea shares a maternal genetic match with Her Majesty. Truly she is the biological daughter of the Queen."
A few murmurs break through the room, though we had all already suspected it.
But I don't blink. I'm not here for that confirmation.
I'm here for the next one.
The doctor glances once more at the paper, then looks up.
"And Princess Celeste Lucien… also shares a maternal match with Her Majesty. The data confirms a 99.98% probability that she is the Queen's biological daughter."
The Grand Hall gasps — a sound collective and stunned. A ripple of disbelief swells through the rows of councilmen and nobles.
I stand frozen.
The floor does not give way beneath me but it feels like it should.
I feel Cassian's grip on my hand tighten.
I can't look at anyone. Not yet.
"Queen Morgana never had any siblings, we all knew that. This means… Princess Celeste is not the Queen's sister."
He looks at the crowd, then finishes:
"She can only be her daughter."
The room falls into a stunned silence.
Then slowly, as if time itself must catch up, all heads turn toward the Queen.
She doesn't react.
No gasp. No denial. No confirmation.
Just that same cold expression carved into her face.
I can feel my heartbeat in my throat. I look at her, really look and wonder how long she's known. How long she's buried me inside her past like an unspoken shame.
Cassian's fingers twitch against mine.
He finally whispers, "Celeste…"
But I can't speak. Not yet. Not with her still holding the truth behind sealed lips.
Not while the whole of Matica stares at me like I am both a miracle and myth.
Across the room, Shea's mouth parts in shock. Her gaze darts between the Queen and me, her chest rising and falling faster now.
I feel like the walls are caving in.
Like the truth is still only half-born.
And somehow, still, she says nothing.
The hall is silent.
So silent I can hear the echo of my own breathing, the thunder of Cassian's heartbeat against mine. For what feels like eternity, no one moves. No one speaks.
Then finally, Lord Edric steps forward. His voice is low but firm, trembling slightly under the weight of what the doctor has just revealed.
"Your Majesty…" he says, turning to face the Queen fully. "We cannot leave this room without further clarification. If Celeste is your daughter… and Prince Cassian is your son…"
His voice trails off as though the rest of the sentence is too poisonous to finish.
The implication crashes into the room like a tidal wave.
If we are siblings… then our marriage is forbidden.
Illegal. An incest. Bad enough to fracture the throne.
Gasps. Shuffling feet. Uneasy glances.
My knees threaten to give way, but I remain standing. Cassian stares straight ahead, stunned, expressionless. His grip on my hand tightens.
Lord Edric doesn't flinch. "Your Majesty," he repeats. "The kingdom deserves the truth. You must speak."
Cassian turns toward her, voice hoarse. "Mother… explain this!!!"
The Queen remains still for a moment. Then slowly, she raises her head.
And with a tone stripped of all its usual pride, she mutters, "They are not siblings."
The room inhales sharply.
A beat of silence.
Then…
"What do you mean?" Lord Edric demands.
"How?" another councilman echoes.
"The doctor just said Celeste is your child!"
Queen Morgana looks at me. Then at Cassian.
Then back at the council.
"Celeste is my child," she says, her voice louder now. "Cassian… is not."
The collective gasp is thunderous, louder than any royal decree I've ever heard.
I stagger a little, stocked.
Cassian's mouth parts. "What…?"
Before anyone else can ask more, the Queen raises a trembling hand and points at me.
"Before I say anything further… find Oman. The midwife who served me twenty-eight years ago, the year I gave birth to her." Her finger doesn't waver from me. "Oman was the only other soul present. She knows the whole story better than I do. Bring her here."
She turns to Lord Edric directly. "Edric… find Oman."
He doesn't question. Doesn't blink. He simply nods and gestures toward a guard. Together, they leave the chamber swiftly, the doors closing behind them with a heavy thud.
No one speaks.
Cassian drops into the nearest seat, looking like his entire world is unraveling.
Shea looks between me and the Queen, her face pale with guilt, her mouth moving without words. She doesn't speak. She only looks at me with something that could be shameful. Or regret.
I… I don't know what to feel.
My chest is tight. My breath is shallow. My mind keeps circling the same impossible loop.
Cassian is not the Queen's son. Then whose son is he?
And why did she lie all these years?
What did Oman see that no one else did?
I glance at Cassian, his jaw clenched, staring at the polished floor as if it might split and offer a new truth.
If what she says is true…
Then we are not bound by blood.
But we are bound now by something more dangerous:
A kingdom that may fall if any part of this truth is mishandled.