The throne room was emptier than she expected. No lavish drapes, no jeweled pillars — only the sharp scent of steel oil and the low hum of soldiers breathing in unison.
They lined the walls like statues, their armor black as midnight, each bearing the crest of the Phoenix Legion. At the far end, upon no throne but a raised stone dais, stood the man they called General Kael Draven.
Tall. Unsmiling. Cloaked in the kind of silence that devoured words.
Serenya had read about him in her past life — in whispered letters and fearful records. The war butcher. The kingmaker. The man who never knelt to a crown.
But now, she didn't meet him as a historian or victim. She met him as the woman who would one day have his loyalty… or his head.
"Your Majesty," his voice was smooth but edged, "I expected the council's puppet. Instead, they send me a girl dressed in widow's black."
Her lips curved faintly. "And I expected the king's hound. Instead, I find a wolf who thinks himself free."
A murmur rolled through the soldiers, but Kael's expression didn't change. He descended the steps slowly, each footstep echoing like a war drum.
When he stopped before her, they were nearly eye-to-eye.
"You've read my record," he said. "Then you know loyalty is not bought with crowns or pretty words."
"I wouldn't dare buy you," Serenya replied softly. "I will give you something no king, no court, no coin can… a war worth fighting."
His gaze narrowed — studying her as if peeling away flesh to see the steel beneath. For a long moment, no one spoke.
Then he leaned in, so close she could feel the cold of his breath.
"If your war is a lie," Kael murmured, "I will end it before it begins."
Serenya didn't blink. "If it is a lie, General, I'll give you the blade myself."
The room was silent, but in that silence, a seed was planted — one that would one day set the kingdom aflame.