📍 Chapter 55 – Beneath the Throne
The scroll sat untouched on the edge of Zaire's desk, its opened seal like a wound. Zara watched him from across the room, her back straight, her hands folded in her lap, trying to read the war behind his eyes.
Zaire hadn't spoken in over ten minutes.
He simply stood there, one hand gripping the corner of the table, the other loosely hanging by his side. The fire in the hearth crackled softly, casting restless shadows on the stone walls.
When he finally did speak, his voice was hollow. "He was supposed to be dead."
Zara didn't answer. She knew who he meant.
"Do you believe everything they told you about him?" she asked, careful with her tone.
Zaire let out a humorless breath. "No. That's the problem. I don't know what's real anymore."
He turned to her, eyes darker than she'd ever seen them.
"My cousin, Kalren, was the only person I trusted before the war. We trained together. We bled on the same fields. I once told him that if I ever wore the crown, I wanted him by my side." His jaw clenched. "Then he disappeared during the rebellion. They said he was killed when the northern fortress collapsed. There was no body, only blood and a broken crest."
"And now he sends threats?" Zara asked.
Zaire nodded. "This… this scroll is a warning, but not just for me. He wants to rattle the court. My mother. The nobles. He wants them to doubt my strength."
Zara looked down at her lap. "Then it worked."
Zaire's eyes narrowed slightly.
"I saw the way they looked at me today," she said quietly. "Like I was the snake in the garden. Like I didn't belong beside you."
"You do," he said immediately.
She shook her head. "Only because you say so. But if you were gone tomorrow, would anyone fight for me? Or would I be tossed back into silence like I never existed?"
Zaire crossed the room slowly and crouched before her, taking both her hands in his. His touch was surprisingly warm, but there was a tension under his skin.
"I'm not going anywhere," he said. "And neither are you."
Zara held his gaze. "You can't promise that."
"I can." His grip tightened slightly. "Because from now on, I'm not letting you walk into anything blind."
She blinked. "What do you mean?"
He stood and walked to a carved wooden cabinet on the far wall. Opening it, he reached behind several old scrolls and lifted a false panel. From it, he pulled a worn leather ledger and tossed it gently on the table.
Zara stood and moved closer, curiosity pushing away fear.
"What is that?"
"Everything the court pretends not to know," he said. "Secret alliances. Financial bribes. Cover-ups. Every noble who's ever used the crown to feed their own greed is in this book. And Kalren knew it existed."
Zara stared down at the open page. There were names. Codes. Dates. Some she recognized from the council meetings. Others were unfamiliar.
"You're keeping records of them all," she whispered.
"I have to," Zaire said. "Because one day, someone will try to burn this palace from the inside out. And I intend to know exactly who lit the match."
Zara flipped through a few pages, pausing when she saw Lord Eshan's name. Next to it was a sum of money and the phrase: *Received from unknown benefactor, Eastern Gate smuggling pass.*
"This is dangerous," she whispered.
"I know."
"If someone finds this—"
"They won't," he said firmly.
Zara looked up at him. "Why are you showing me this now?"
Zaire didn't speak for a long moment.
Then: "Because if I die, you'll be the only one who knows it exists. And you'll know who to destroy."
The words were sharp. Final. Like something sealed in blood.
Zara didn't move. "Don't talk like that."
"It's not a wish," he said. "It's a reality. Kalren isn't just coming for me. He's coming for the throne. And if I fall, he'll erase everything I've built—starting with you."
Her throat tightened. "Then we have to stop him."
Zaire's expression shifted. A flicker of something—respect, maybe—passed through his eyes.
"We will."
---
Two days later, the palace shifted.
Zara felt it before she saw it—subtle glances in the halls, sudden silences when she entered rooms. Even the servants had grown cautious, polite to the point of discomfort. It was as if her acceptance into Zaire's inner circle had turned her into something dangerous.
And then, the rumors started.
They came quietly, whispered behind hand fans and passed over trays of wine.
"She's influencing him too much."
"She was seen alone in the East Wing tower."
"No one knows where she's from. What if she's a spy?"
Zara tried to ignore it. She tried to keep her head high, her shoulders straight.
But it wore her down.
One afternoon, while walking through the gardens, she overheard two noblewomen speaking near the rose arches.
"I heard she wasn't even nobility. Just a merchant's daughter with a pretty face."
"She's more than that if she's got Zaire wrapped around her finger."
"She'll disappear like the last one."
Zara didn't flinch. She simply turned and walked away.
But something inside her hardened.
She couldn't be soft anymore. Not here. Not now.
---
That night, Zaire summoned her to his private chambers—not her own.
She'd never been inside.
When the guards opened the doors, she stepped into a room far quieter than she expected. No gold. No silk. Just stone walls, a few iron sconces, and a simple bed covered in dark sheets.
Zaire stood near the window, arms crossed, staring out into the blackness.
"I hear the court's been busy," he said without turning.
Zara walked to the center of the room. "They're afraid. Of me. Of you. Of what we might do together."
He turned then. His eyes were tired.
"They should be."
Zara stepped closer. "What's next?"
Zaire didn't answer immediately.
Then: "We invite Kalren to the palace."
She stared. "What?"
"I'll send him a message. One he can't ignore. If he's really behind the threats, he'll respond. If not… someone else is using his name."
Zara's voice was low. "You're playing a dangerous game."
Zaire gave a thin smile. "So are you."
He reached for her hand—not to pull her in, but to press something cold into her palm.
It was a dagger. Slim. Beautiful. Deadly.
"Keep it hidden," he said. "Use it only if you must. But don't hesitate."
Zara stared at the blade.
There was no room left for innocence here.
Only war.
And she had chosen her side.