Chapter 202 - The Next Morning

Chapter 202 - The Next Morning
Rhiannan POV

Morning light poured through the east-wing windows like the gods themselves had decided to personally illuminate my suffering.

Beautiful, golden and warm. Completely fucking unnecessary. I sat buried in pillows in the royal solarium, glaring at breakfast while one of my unborn children attempted to relocate my spleen. The room had supposedly been designed for peace and quiet reflection. That was adorable. Nothing in this castle had been peaceful or quiet since I arrived. Especially not my uterus. I adjusted the silk wrap around my stomach for approximately the twentieth time. It slipped open again. “Fine. Fuck you too.”

Liam appeared in front of me carrying a silver platter large enough to feed a small village. He bowed dramatically. “For my glowing Queen of Questionable Cravings.”

I narrowed my eyes. “I will throat-punch you with a pickle.”

“Violent before breakfast. Stunning.”

He placed the platter down. I inspected my tribute.
Honeyed crepes. Vinegar-drenched pickles. Sliced dragonfruit. Grapes. A chocolate-dipped meat skewer.
And something wrapped in bacon that smelled like cinnamon and cheese. I pointed. “What the fuck is that?”

Liam looked delighted. “Bacon-wrapped cinnamon cheese.” I stared at him. He stared back. “Give it to me.”

“I knew you'd understand my vision.”

I took a bite. Sweet. Salty. Smoky. Cheesy. My eyes closed. “Oh, fuck.” Across the room, Arwen made a gagging noise. “That combination is an act of war.”

“Shut your mouth.”

Kaleb calmly sipped his tea. “I once watched her dip a cheese danish in mustard.”

Arwen looked horrified.

“I was pregnant!”

“You are still pregnant.”

“Exactly. Therefore all food crimes remain legally protected.”

Kaleb nodded. “Fair.”

I grabbed a crepe, layered dragonfruit across it, added a pickle slice, and rolled the entire monstrosity together. Arwen physically turned away.

“Triplets demand balance,” I informed him. “One wants sweet. One wants salt.”

Elisha glanced up from the magical barrier reports hovering above his hands. “And the third?”

I bit into my crepe. “Already pissed off at life.”

“Diplomat, warrior, tax collector.”

I pointed at him with the crepe. “Don't put that evil on my babies.”

Elisha smirked. “Pray the warrior is firstborn.”

“I don't care who comes out first as long as someone comes out and gives my bladder back.”

A tiny kick answered. I looked down. “You heard me.”
Another kick. “Don't start.”

Liam offered me a grape. I opened my mouth. He popped it in. Across the room, Mela flopped dramatically into a chair. “Speaking of things that need to calm the fuck down, Faenet is still absolutely feral over Thorne and Lerenya.”

Riven wandered in behind her. Shirtless. Of course. I didn't even know why I bothered noticing anymore.
At this point, I suspected the man considered fabric a personal attack. He bit into an apple and held up his smart crystal. The trending list hovered above it.

#VampDaddy
#WaterWife
#SecondMateWatch
#LetHimBiteMeToo
#FeralsInLove

I stared. “Second Mate Watch?”

Mo gasped from the chaise lounge where he had somehow buried himself under three blankets despite it being warm. “YES.”

He sat upright and dramatically fanned himself with a Faenet flyer. “Apparently everyone knows ancient vampires can bond more than once, and now the entire fucking world is trying to predict who comes next.”

I shoved another bite of crepe into my mouth. “Poor bastard barely survived meeting the first one.”

“Exactly!” Mo cried. “Imagine the drama.”

Mela leaned forward. “Faenet's favorite theory is a fire sprite.”

“Wrong,” Mo said immediately. “Goth librarian.”

I paused. “Goth librarian?”

“Picture it. Black lipstick. Spectacles. Terrible attitude. Thorne walks into a library covered in blood, she looks over her book and says, ‘You're dripping on my floor.’”

I chewed. “That is weirdly compelling.”

“THANK YOU.”

Riven looked at Mo. “You just want someone who can handle a threesome.”

Mo shrugged. “Or a fight club. Same skill set.”

I snorted so hard I nearly inhaled pickle. Then Sable walked into the room. Everything changed. He didn't announce himself. Didn't need to. The shadows moved before he did. One second I was watching Mo argue that librarians were inherently dangerous.
The next, Sable stood in the doorway looking like a living storm cloud. His wings weren't visible, but darkness crawled around his shoulders. His jaw was tight. Too tight. I slowly lowered my crepe. “What happened?”

“They poked the shield last night.”

Silence. Even Mo stopped moving. I sat straighter. My body protested immediately. I ignored it. “Define poked.”

“A tendril.”

Sable crossed the room. “Thin. Magical. Almost undetectable. It touched the northwest section of the barrier for less than three seconds.”

My stomach tightened. Not from the babies this time.
“Veltherion?”

“I can't prove it.”

Which meant yes. Sable stopped beside me. “But the magic was old. Corrupted. Powerful.”

Liam lowered the grape he'd been about to feed me.
His usual amusement vanished. Arwen's expression hardened. Kaleb set his tea down. Reyna's eyes began to glow. “He wasn't trying to break through,” Sable continued. “He was tasting it.”

I hated that word. Tasting. Like our shield was skin and something in the dark had dragged its tongue across it. “What did Sasha find?”

“Nothing beyond the contact point. She reinforced the entire northwest quadrant.”

Sasha's voice came from the wall crystal. “I also added two additional detection layers, three counterstrike protocols, and an automatic containment response.”

I looked toward the crystal. “How automatic?”

“Extremely.”

I smiled slightly. “That's my girl.”

“I am not your girl.”

“Sure.”

Sable didn't smile. “He's fucking with us.”

“I know.”

“He wants us to know he's still out there.”

“I know.”

“And if he's testing the shield now, Trial Two is an obvious target.”

There it was. The thing none of us wanted to say.
Yesterday had been a victory. A huge one. People were celebrating. Faenet was obsessed with vampire mating drama. Our new workers were settling into the Sanctuary. Outreach teams were traveling across the world. And somewhere outside our walls, a wounded monster was watching and waiting. I rested one hand over my stomach. Three tiny lives. My children. My kingdom. My people. Fuck him.

“Then we make Trial Two the hardest fucking place in the realm to attack.”

Kaleb nodded immediately. “We're already adjusting troop positions.”

“Double the perimeter.”

“Done.”

“More healers.”

Arwen nodded. “I'll arrange it.”

“Evacuation gates?”

“Already prepared,” Sasha answered.

I looked at Sable. “And you?”

His eyes darkened. “I'll be in the sky.”

Of course he would. I exhaled. “Perfect. Flaming hemorrhoids, triplet gymnastics, half a million Trial contestants, and now feral ex-evil-king energy poking my fucking shield.”

Liam handed me the bacon-wrapped cheese. “For morale.” I took it. “Thank you.”

Kaleb's mouth twitched. “We can't delay the Trials.”

“I know.”

And I did. That was the worst part. Stopping would tell Veltherion he could control us simply by showing his shadow. No. We kept moving. We prepared. We protected. But we fucking moved. Reyna stepped toward the center of the room. “Then we should discuss the Noble Trials.”

I stared at her. “Of course we should.”

She flicked her fingers and a shimmering map unfolded across the room. My breakfast disappeared beneath floating diagrams. I frowned. “My pickle is behind the governance model.”

Liam reached through the projection and retrieved it.

“My hero.”

Reyna ignored us. “The preliminary screening spells are complete. Sasha finished the background scans and verification systems.”

“Correct.”

“We've prepared three primary trial formats.”

The projection shifted.

“The first is a logic and leadership test disguised as community planning.”

I perked up. Now that interested me. Not sword fighting. Not brute strength. Leadership. “What are they doing?”

“They'll receive a simulated settlement with limited resources and multiple problems. Food shortages. Housing issues. Magical contamination. Disputes between residents. Infrastructure failures.”

“Good.”

“They'll have to prioritize.”

“Better.”

Reyna smiled. “And every decision changes the simulation.”

There. That was what I wanted. Because leadership wasn't about finding the perfect answer. Sometimes there wasn't one. Sometimes you had ten hungry families and enough food for six. Sometimes fixing the bridge meant delaying the clinic. Sometimes protecting one village left another exposed. I wanted to know who listened. Who adapted. Who admitted they were wrong. Who treated the poorest farmer with the same respect they'd give a prince.

“What are we calling it?”

Reyna's expression changed and I immediately became suspicious. Mo raised his hand.

“Oh no.”

“It has a name.”

“Mo.”

He beamed. “Build-A-Bitch Village.”

I closed my eyes. Mela clapped wildly. “It's memorable!”

“It's fucking terrible.”

“You remembered it.”

“That isn't the point.”

Riven bit into his apple. “I like it.”

Sasha's voice cut through the room. “Working title.”

“Traitor,” Mo whispered.

“I have also rejected his proposal for a creativity challenge involving ferrets, edible banners, and glitter-based resource allocation.”

“Coward.”

“I control the castle ventilation system.”

Mo slowly lowered his flyer. “I respect your leadership.”

Smart monkey. Reyna swiped the projection aside. “The application system is ready.”

That sobered me. Already? I looked around the room.
These weren't just applications for jobs. We were replacing an entire political structure. For generations, authority had belonged to people because of their blood. Their names. Their parents. Their wealth.
Fuck that. I didn't want nobles who had been born close enough to a throne. I wanted leaders. People who knew what hunger looked like. People who had rebuilt homes. Raised siblings. Buried neighbors. Managed farms. Negotiated disputes. Made hard choices without losing their humanity. People who understood that ruling wasn't a reward. It was a fucking responsibility. Sasha spoke. “Faenet integration is complete. Applications can go live in three minutes.”

I stared at the glowing map. My hand drifted over my belly. Someday these babies would inherit whatever we created. That terrified me more than Veltherion did. Because killing monsters was easy compared to building systems that didn't create new ones. I wanted my children to grow up in a kingdom where a farmer could look a prince in the eye. Where power had to prove itself. Where nobody was untouchable. Not even them. Especially not them. “Sasha.”

“Yes?”

“Launch it.”

A pause. “Are you certain?”

I smiled. “Let's see what kind of leaders this kingdom has been hiding.”

The crystal flashed. “Applications live.”

Nothing happened. For approximately two seconds. Then every smart crystal in the room screamed.
Notifications exploded. Mo yelped. Mela dropped hers. Kaleb's began vibrating across the table. Sasha spoke. “Ten thousand applications.”

My eyebrows shot up. “Already?”

“Twenty-seven thousand.”

“Holy shit.”

“Forty-three thousand.”

Faenet feeds filled the air. Faces. Names. Stories. A middle-aged woman stood outside a rebuilt cottage.

💬 I HELPED REBUILD MY VILLAGE AFTER THE FLOOD. I WANT TO SERVE.

A broad-shouldered dwarf held up blackened hands.

💬 FORMER BLACKSMITH. I DON'T WANT TO FIGHT, BUT I CAN BUILD LIKE HELL.

Then a young woman appeared with several children climbing all over her.

💬 I RAISED TWELVE SIBLINGS. IF I CAN SURVIVE THAT, I CAN GOVERN.

I pointed. “Put her through immediately.”

Sasha paused. “Because she raised twelve siblings?”

“Do you understand the diplomacy required to stop twelve children from murdering each other over food?”

“No.”

“Exactly.”

More applications poured in. Pirates. Teachers. Farmers. Displaced royals. Healers. Forest witches.
Merchants. Traveling cooks. A former brothel manager who claimed she had mediated more disputes than most kings. Probably true. A goblin sanitation supervisor. A centaur midwife. An elderly baker. People the old kingdom never would have considered important enough to enter a palace were asking for the chance to help run it.

Something tightened behind my ribs. Yesterday, half a million people had shown up because we offered them a chance. Today, thousands more were doing the same. Not because I promised them titles. Because I promised them a voice. Liam quietly held a grape near my mouth. I ate it without looking away from the applications. “This kingdom's going to be unstoppable,” I whispered.

“Obviously.”

I looked at him. His grin returned. “And sexy as fuck.”

I laughed hard. “There it is.”