Morning in the palace always begins with sound.Not birdsong, but the tick of precision: shoes against marble, the echo of clipped voices, the faint brush of silk.
Every note measured. Every silence rehearsed.
When the summons came, it was on vellum so white it almost glowed. The seal of the Neutral Council—a ring of frost around an open eye—stared up at me like judgment itself.
I'd known it was coming. Fear loses its edge when you expect it, but it never disappears.
Two guards escorted me through corridors that smelled of polished stone and restraint. The farther we walked, the colder the air grew until it felt as though the walls themselves were breathing ice.
The Council Hall was exactly as I remembered: circular, flawless, echoing. Twelve seats carved from onyx surrounded a single chair of pale marble in the center—mine. Light from the dome overhead cut through the dust motes like blades.
"Princess Evne Roman," the Chancellor intoned. His voice had the precision of a scalpel.
"You stand before this Council to clarify your actions beyond our borders and your association with the Dominion King."
My hands folded neatly in my lap. "Clarify" was their polite word for confess.
"Please," I said evenly, "ask what you will."
A rustle of parchment. Quills scratching. The questioning began.
They asked about my disappearance.I spoke of solitude, reflection, a need to learn the world beyond neutrality. Half-truths polished to civility.
They asked about Leonardo Ivankov.I described him as a ruler met by chance—powerful, volatile, a man I studied out of diplomatic curiosity.
I left out the way his eyes burned when he said my name, or how my pulse still carried his scent.
"Did the Alpha King compel you in any way?" one of them asked.
"No." I met his gaze without flinching. "He does not command me."
That earned a whisper through the chamber—too bold for their liking. I softened my tone. "He respected me as one sovereign respects another."
"Respect?" another councilor murmured. "He invaded our border, shattered our gates, and endangered royal blood. That is not respect."
I let my breath steady before answering. "Then perhaps you should ask why a king would risk war for a single woman. Either he is mad… or something else drove him."
They didn't enjoy rhetorical traps, but I saw one mouth tighten.
The Chancellor leaned forward slightly. "What drove you, Princess?"
A drop of sweat slid down my spine though the air was freezing. I lowered my gaze as if in contemplation. "Duty," I said softly. "To understand the world our neutrality hides from us."
It was the kind of answer they could neither disprove nor punish.
For an hour, the questions circled—each phrased like a statement of law, each intended to make me contradict myself. I answered with the calm of a mask I'd worn all my life.
But underneath, my body betrayed me. My heartbeat too loud. My stomach tight, that same deep heaviness curling under my ribs.
The nausea rose again midway through a question about trade treaties. I hid it behind a slow exhale. I'd trained for diplomacy, not deception of this kind—deception of flesh.
The Chancellor's quill paused. "Are you unwell, Princess Evne?"
"I am fine," I said quickly. "Merely tired."
"Tiredness does not pale the lips so."
He was observant. Too observant.
"Perhaps the Dominion air disagreed with me," I replied, forcing a small, dutiful smile.
"It is heavy with iron and smoke."
He studied me a heartbeat longer before returning to his notes.
Relief was dangerous; it made me careless. When the next question came, I almost missed its trap.
"During your time abroad," said Councilor Marisse—the only woman among them, known for her cruelty behind silk—"did you share living quarters with the Alpha King?"
The quill in her fingers didn't move; she wanted to watch me react.
I let a beat pass, two, as if calculating propriety. "I did," I said at last. "Under guard. My safety required proximity."
"And proximity," she murmured, "breeds scent."
Every muscle in my body went still.
She leaned forward slightly, eyes glinting under the dome's light. "Forgive me, Princess, but one of our attendants mentioned an… irregularity upon your return.
Your pheromones read altered. Faint traces of Alpha resonance."
The room fell silent. The quills stopped. Even the air seemed to wait.
My pulse thundered in my ears. Breathe.
I lifted my chin, meeting her gaze. "Exposure leaves traces, Councilor. You would know that if you'd ever stood near a Dominion patrol. Their aura clings to everything."
A murmur ran through the circle; logic satisfied some of them. Not her.
Marisse's smile didn't reach her eyes. "Indeed. Still, I suggest a medical purification. To ensure our royal blood remains uncontaminated."
Her meaning struck like ice.
Purification.A polite word for examination—testing.
If they tested me now, they'd know. They'd smell it instantly: the subtle, new note in my scent.
I bowed my head just enough to appear obedient. "If the Council commands, I will comply."
The Chancellor nodded once. "We will summon the High Medic tomorrow at dawn."
Tomorrow. One day.
A reprieve, not safety.
The session ended with ritual precision: seals pressed into wax, signatures signed, the sound of marble chairs sliding back in perfect unison.
When I rose, my legs felt numb. My smile, however, remained flawless.
I curtsied, thanked them for their guidance, and walked out through the great glass doors as though my world wasn't cracking under my feet.
Outside, the corridor air hit me like a wave. I didn't realize I'd been holding my breath until the dizziness forced me to the wall.
Tomorrow they would test me.Tomorrow they would know.
Unless I ran again.
But this time, I wasn't alone.
A faint ache pulsed through my abdomen, subtle as a heartbeat. The warmth there steadied me.
"I'll protect you," I whispered. "Whatever it takes."
From behind, a voice echoed down the hall—Marisse again, her heels deliberate on the marble.
"Your scent has changed, Princess," she said softly, too softly for the guards to hear. "You should learn to hide it better."
When I turned, she was already walking away, her reflection fading in the polished stone like a phantom.