Chapter 39 Quiet Rebellion
Kira’s POV
I froze.
My heart actually stopped for a second.
Ronan just said…no. He’s the good one. Arabella swore he was the only decent soul in that entire viper nest. The one who used to sneak her food when they starved her. The one who took beatings for her. The one she told me would be my greatest ally.
Did they break him too? Did they threaten him with something so bad he’d sell her out?
“AHA!” King Ariston leapt up like he’d been waiting his whole life for this moment. “Prince Ronan knows Arabella better than anyone! He was even the one who discovered that her Vyris is dead, and he has just confirmed this imposter is not my daughter!” He didn’t even breathe. “Your Majesty, I demand to know what happened to my real daughter or, according to the ancient law, I will—”
“Father.” Ronan’s voice cut through the shouting like a blade, interrupting Ariston’s outburst. His voice was calm. Steady. Deadly quiet.
“I said she’s not our princess anymore. That’s simply what I meant. She is now the soon to be Queen of Draven.” He turned to me, eyes soft and wet. “But she is still very much my only sister…Arabella.”
I almost cried right there in front of everyone but managed to blink the tears away.
He knows.
He knows I’m not her.
And he just lied for me.
I exhaled like someone had punched the air back into my lungs.
Adrian’s voice rolled across the hall like thunder. “What were you about to say, Ariston? Which law exactly were you planning to throw in my face?”
Ariston looked around, suddenly realising no one was jumping to back him up.
Queen Selene tried again, her voice edged with warning. “Ronan, are you sure? We discussed saving your little sister from this place if she’s still alive—”
“Save her? Is that a joke?” Ronan actually laughed. A short, bitter sound.
He then walked straight to me, pulled me into another crushing hug. “I’m sorry I failed you,” he whispered against my hair, so low only I heard. “You finished yours. I’ll finish mine and join you. Just like I promised.”
He let go and walked back to his seat, ignoring the glare from Selene.
My skin prickled. What the hell did that mean? Did Arabella and Ronan plan for this exact day? I need to talk to him. Alone. Soon.
Adrian’s hand clamped on my shoulder and guided me gently back into my chair. Then he leaned back, lazy predator smile in place.
“I’ll ask you again, Ariston. Are you accusing me of harming my own woman and replacing her with an imposter?”
“N-no, Your Majesty,” Ariston stuttered, “it’s just…the Vyris is dead, we thought maybe—”
Adrian waved a lazy hand, pointing directly at Ariston. “You do know a Vyris can be destroyed on purpose and it doesn’t automatically translate to the owner being dead…right?” I asked sweetly. “How do I know you didn’t smash it yourselves just to get an excuse to march in here with your little army?”
Ariston went pale, his fists clenched so tightly that I was expecting his bones to pop. “Forgive my family, Your Majesty,” Ariston mumbled, head down, staring at his plate like it personally offended him. “It never crossed my mind to offend you.”
Pathetic. Looking around the table and seeing these vile people only strengthened my resolve to fulfill my promise to Abby. And the promise to myself.
By this point the table was loaded with food that smelled like heaven…roasted pheasant dripping butter, honey-glazed carrots, fresh bread still steaming, some creamy thing with truffles that made my mouth water so hard my stomach growled loud enough for the whole hall to hear.
I clutched it, embarrassed for half a second, then decided I didn’t care.
I cleared my throat and sat up like a spoiled princess, wiggling my butt on the chair. “So…who’s gonna serve me?” I asked, looking at the faces around the table.
Adrian grinned like a wolf who just found a new toy. “Who do you want, Abby… sorry… Kira. The maids are right here.”
I shook my head slowly. “Nope. I want someone from this table to serve me.” I turned to him, batting my lashes. “Can you make that happen, Your Majesty?”
His eyes shone with a kind of giddy anticipation, like he’d been dreaming all his life of me asking him for a favor. He smiled like he already knew I was about to start a fire and he was ready to pour oil on it.
“Point,” he said, voice dripping with amusement. “And I’ll make it happen.”
I clapped once, stood up, and started singing the dumb little nursery rhyme every kid knows, spinning slowly, finger pointing at every horrified, furious face…
“Eeny, meeny, miny, moe…”
My finger danced past Margaret, past Levi, past the brothers, past the king… and landed square on Selene.
I bopped in her direction as my finger landed on her. “I want my dear mother to serve me.”
The gasps were so loud I almost laughed again.
“Nonsense!” Ariston roared, on his feet in a blink. “The Queen of Ravaryn is no servant! I will not watch you disrespect my throne because you are no longer a Ravaryn!”
“Exactly,” Adrian said lazily, not even looking up from slicing his pheasant. “She is no longer a Ravaryn. She is my bride. Which makes her Queen of the Central and that includes the North and South. So are you really refusing to let the northern queen serve the central queen?”
Selene stood up slowly, playing the wounded deer. “It’s fine,” she said in a trembling voice, fake tears already loading. “She’s still my daughter, after all. What’s wrong with a mother serving her child? I served her when she was a baby…”
Her two older sons and Ariston all jumped up too, shouting that this was an insult to their throne, a crime, blah blah blah.
I rolled my eyes so hard I nearly saw my brain. “Oh goodness, it’s food, not your dignity. Calm down and serve me.”
One of the brothers yelled, “Arabella, enough!”
Adrian’s fist slammed the table. Plates jumped. Wine sloshed. Silence.
“Sit down and shut up so I can enjoy my meal,” he said, voice low and terrifying. Then he turned to Selene. “Serve her. Now.”
I clapped like a kid on her birthday and placed the napkin gently.
Selene walked around the table stiff as a corpse, picked up a clean plate, and started putting food on it with trembling hands. Everyone watched like we were putting on a play.
“More potatoes, Mother. The ones with the crispy edges. And that creamy truffle thing, yes, a big scoop. Oh, and don’t forget the gravy, lots of gravy.”
She brought the plate back, face tight with rage, lips white.
I sighed dramatically and pouted. “You served me with a bitter heart, mother. Go back and do it again. With a smile this time.”
She froze, as the rest of her family shifted like they wanted to throw me off a bridge.
Adrian lifted one brow at her direction and she forced the fakest smile I’ve ever seen and went back to dishing food.
“Wider, Mother,” I called, sweet as sugar. “I’ve served you with a smile plenty of times, remember?”
She stumbled, almost dropping the plate. Servants were whispering behind their hands, eyes huge. Some of them even giggled quietly.
Humiliation. Arabella endured it every day at her hands. And this? This is barely a warning shot compared to the hell I’ll soon rain down on her.
Lady Margaret hissed loud enough for the whole table to hear, “Now that she has the king’s favour she doesn’t even respect her own mother. No wonder they say daughters are worthless.”
I opened my mouth to destroy her, but Levi stood up first, chest puffed like a peacock.
“Your Majesty, I would like to speak.”
Adrian looked almost bored. “Ah yes, the big mate reveal. Go ahead, cousin. I’m listening.”
Levi threw his shoulders back, smug little smirk back in place. “She is my woman,” he announced, pointing straight at me. “Princess Arabella is my mate.”
Adrian’s fork clattered to the floor as I felt his body go rigid beside me. The air around him turned ice-cold and murderous as he stood up slowly.
I looked at Levi like he’d just grown a second head.
Did he just call me his woman? So we’re doing this now? Two royals fighting over me? God, my life is basically a telenovela.
This day just keeps getting better.