The air in the lounge turned heavy, like the walls themselves were holding their breath.
No one spoke. Not even the guards.
Only the word — Princess — still echoed in my head.
She had never called me that before.
Not once.
Zayn's hand tightened around mine.
Azael's jaw locked.
I could see it in their eyes — whatever this was, it wasn't a simple call.
"Why would she… ask for me?" I whispered.
Zayn turned to Azael, silently demanding an explanation.
Azael only shook his head. "You know why."
"No," I said louder this time. "I don't."
Zayn looked down, then back at me, his expression torn between fear and defiance.
"She must've heard," he said finally.
"Heard what?"
"That I told you everything."
My stomach twisted.
"Zayn—"
But before I could say another word, the guard cleared his throat.
"Her Majesty… insists it be now."
Zayn's eyes softened, but I saw the flicker of panic behind them.
He brushed his thumb over my hand. "You don't have to go if you're not ready."
Azael's voice cut in, low and controlled. "If she sent for her personally, refusing isn't an option."
I looked at him — the other twin. The one who spoke less, but always seemed to know more.
"Will you come with me?" I asked.
He shook his head. "She asked for you alone."
My heart sank.
Alone.
Of course.
The walk to the Queen Mother's chambers felt longer than it should.
The guards walked ahead, silent as ghosts. Every portrait I passed — kings, queens, ancestors — seemed to watch me with knowing eyes.
When we reached her door, the guard who had fetched me paused.
"She's expecting you," he said.
Then, as if even he feared being near that door a second too long, he bowed and stepped back.
I stood there for a moment, hands cold, breath uneven.
Then the door opened on its own.
---
The Queen Mother sat near the window, back straight, her gown glimmering under the morning light.
She didn't turn immediately when I entered.
"Maya," she said softly. Her tone wasn't angry — that made it worse.
I bowed slightly. "Your Majesty."
"Come closer."
I obeyed.
Her gaze moved to the golden crest on the wall — the two lions forming a crown — the same symbol Zayn had told me about.
"I see my sons have told you the truth," she began.
I hesitated. "Some of it."
Her lips curved faintly. "Ah. Then let me tell you the part they didn't."
My pulse raced.
What more could there be?
She stood, turning toward me. Even in her age, her presence filled the room — graceful, regal, dangerous.
"When a prince gives up his crown," she said slowly, "the balance of this kingdom trembles. Love may be pure, Maya, but it is never simple. You, of all people, must understand that."
"I never asked him to—"
"I know," she interrupted softly. "But he did. And that choice has consequences far beyond the heart."
Her words pressed into me like weight.
"I don't understand," I murmured.
"Oh, you will," she replied. "Because you are now part of a story written long before either of you were born."
She stepped closer, her perfume — jasmine and iron — thick in the air.
"There is something about you, Maya," she continued, eyes searching mine. "Something that does not belong to chance. Something my ancestors warned about."
My breath hitched. "Warned?"
"Yes." She nodded, almost sadly. "A woman who would come from outside the bloodline. One who would make the twin heirs forget their vows… and alter the throne's destiny."
The words sliced through me.
"Are you saying I'm that woman?"
She didn't answer. She didn't have to.
The silence told me everything.
I stepped back, my voice trembling. "Your Majesty, I love your son. That's all. I never wanted—"
"But love," she said, cutting me off again, "is the most dangerous want of all."
She turned toward the window. "For now, I will not condemn your marriage. But I will test it."
I froze. "Test it?"
Her gaze flicked to me again, sharp, assessing. "Tomorrow, a royal council will be held. Every noble house will attend. You will stand beside Zayn as his wife."
"That doesn't sound like a test," I whispered.
Her lips curved. "It will be… when you realize who else is expected to stand beside him."
I frowned. "Who?"
She walked past me, the faint sound of her gown brushing marble.
Her voice came soft… but deliberate.
"The woman he was meant to marry."
My heart stopped.
And before I could even form a word, the Queen Mother's final sentence sealed the moment in my bones:
"Let the court decide, Maya — whether love can truly outweigh a crown."
---