Chapter 38

Thrones are made of glass.

I sat at the head of the high council chamber, no longer a rebel heir. But the sovereign ruler of a kingdom was still choking on old blood.

The crown sat heavy on my head. The dagger remained at my side.

And surrounding me were survivors of a broken regime.

Varek standing on my right, his armor scratched but proud

Damian, silent to my left, hand near his pistol at all times.

And twelve new nobles were handpicked. Not born into their seats. Loyal to me, not the dead court.

But I knew better than to trust any throne that had been washed clean in fire.

Because glass, no matter how polished, could still shatter.

The first council meeting was quiet. Too quiet.

Reports of rising rebellion in the outlands. Rumors of foreign syndicates circling like vultures.

And whispers softer than breath. That I am not my mother’s only heir.

I stood when the last report was read and approached the map of the five territories.

Send relief to the East Border. I ordered. Rebuild the orphan camps. Double guard the posts.

Varek frowned. “We don’t have the funds.”

Damian added. “The nobles won’t allow it. They expect you to repay their loyalty with favors, not charity.”

I’m not here to play favorites. I’m here to break the circles.

I drew a red line through the nobles. Districts on the map.

Anyone who resists reform loses their titles. I don’t need the old money. I’ll build my own.

Silence. Then slowly, Varek smiled.

“Your mother would’ve burned them all.” My eyes gleamed. I still might.

Later that night, I walked in the gardens alone.

Where my mother once held secret meetings, I now sought silence.

I needed time to think. To breathe. To seek through the shifting piece of power that threatened to undo everything we’d won.

I touched the dagger on my hip. My only constant.

Then, a voice behind me. Cool, amused, and infuriatingly familiar.

“You think crowns make you untouchable?”

I didn’t turn.

Alec.

He stepped from the shadows, sharp as ever in a tailored black cloak, no insignia on his chest. Because men like him don’t need to belong to anything to be dangerous.

You’re late. I said.

“You’re reckless,” he replied. “The nobles are already plotting your removal.”

I turned to him, brow raised. Let them try. The watcher died thinking the same thing.

His gaze swept over me, like he was calculating. “You’re playing queen well.”

I am queen.

“For now.”

That flicker of old tension passed between us. Not love. Not hate.

Something more dangerous. Memory.

You helped my mother, I said. But you let her die.

“I helped her survive longer than anyone thought possible.” He countered. “And I didn’t come back to be lectured by her daughter.”

Why did you come back then?

He paused.

“Because someone inside your court is feeding information to the black syndicate.”

I stilled. You’re sure?

“I intercepted a transmission. Coded. Masked. But it came from Edenfall. High-level clearance.”

Do you have a name? “Not yet.”

He stepped closer. “But I can get one if you let me inside.”

I studied him for a while.

Letting Alec back into my inner circle was like holding a viper by the tail.

But what if what he said was true? Someone close to me, too close is preparing to betray me.

Fine. I said. One chance.

His grin was like wolffish. “Always generous Your Majesty.”

I turned away before he could see the weight in my eyes.

Because deep down, I already suspected.

Not Varek. Not Damian.

But one of the nobles I had handpicked. And if Alec found out first…. He wouldn’t bring me the traitor.

He’d use them.

Hours later, I lay in bed, unable to sleep. Damian lay beside me, one hand draped over my hip. Protective even in slumber.

But my thoughts were already on the traitor. And on the files that I haven’t opened yet.

Marked with one word. Gabriel.

I slipped out of bed quietly. Opened the safe, pulled out the file, and began to read.

Gabriel Durate.

My uncle. My mother’s younger brother. Presumed dead twenty years ago in the first rebellion.

But according to Lara’s report….

Alive.

And not just alive. Leading a Splinter Cell loyal to the First Court.

Planning something called the project resign.

The goal?

To reclaim Edenfall’s throne by blood. Not by truth.

I shook my head. Because if Gabriel as alive…if he had ties to the Black syndicate…

Then, this war isn’t over. It has just begun.

And this time, it will be fought not for justice.

But for the crown itself.