THE QUEEN'S SHADOW

THE QUEEN'S SHADOW
Tessa's point of view

The room they gave us was too clean. Too quiet. It didn’t feel like a place meant to comfort—it felt like a place meant to silence. Like the walls had seen too much and learned to say nothing.

Ares hadn’t spoken in a while. He lay stretched across the bed, one arm behind his head, staring at the high ceiling as if the answers he needed might be carved into the stone.

I, on the other hand, couldn’t sit still.

My fingers fidgeted with the hem of my sleeve, twisting, untwisting. Every few minutes I walked to the door, not because I expected it to open, but because I wanted to make sure it was still there. That we weren’t prisoners—yet.

I replayed the moment from the market again and again.

That man.

The one with eyes like dusk and a voice dipped in cold power. I had picked pockets in a dozen cities, but I’d never slipped up like that before. It wasn’t just that he caught me—it was how he caught me. As if he’d known. As if he’d been waiting for me to try.

And then he said Ares’s name. Like it belonged to him more than it belonged to the boy beside me.

“Ares,” I said softly, sitting at the edge of the bed. “Do you think that man knows your mother?”

His brow twitched. “He knows more than that. He said my name like he’s been watching me.”

“Then why now? Why reveal himself now?”

He let out a bitter breath. “Because he’s not the one revealing anything. We are.”

That thought chilled me. Had we walked into a trap? Or into someone’s long-laid plan?

I tried to shake the worry off, but my nerves itched. I hadn’t felt magic that strong since the night of fire and blood—the night I lost my parents. But the magic here wasn’t the same. It was old, tired, almost brittle, like a song the land no longer remembered how to sing.

Still, it hummed faintly in the air, especially the deeper we’d gone into the palace. In the main hall, it had clung to my skin like fog, curling beneath my collar, whispering in a tongue I couldn’t understand. And that portrait—the king. Ares’s father. I hadn’t been able to look away. He wore the same expression Ares did when he thought no one was watching. That quiet weight behind the eyes.

No wonder Ares froze.

The knock came just before sunset.

Sharp. Deliberate.

The same woman who’d entered earlier now returned, her black robes brushing the floor like shadows. She didn’t smile. Didn’t even blink as she announced:

“The queen will see you now.”

We rose without a word.

I followed Ares through the winding corridors, my heart a hammer behind my ribs. The palace changed as we walked—stone turned to marbled halls, dark tapestries replaced with silver-dyed ones. The air grew heavier, like each step carried us deeper into some forgotten story.

Ares didn’t say anything, but I could see his hands clenched at his sides. His breathing had changed. Shallow. Braced.

Then, we reached a door taller than any I had ever seen.

The guards pulled it open, and we stepped inside.

The throne room was vast. Dim light filtered through high, narrow windows, casting long shadows over the polished floor. Silver banners hung like frozen waves from the ceiling, and two thrones stood at the far end—only one was occupied.

The queen.

She sat tall, her crown a low circlet of dark steel. Her face was beautiful in a dangerous way—sharp cheekbones, eyes like stormclouds before the break. Not old, not young. Timeless, maybe. Regal in the way mountains are—unmoving and inevitable.

Beside her, standing off to the side, was him.

The man from the market.

He looked different now. Even more dangerous in the golden light. His presence filled the room, not loud, but loud enough that I felt it in my bones.

Ares stepped forward.

He was composed, but only just. “You said the queen would decide our fate. So let’s hear it.”

The queen raised an eyebrow. “Bold. I see your father’s fire lives in you.”

Ares flinched. I saw it, even if he tried to mask it.

She tilted her head, examining him like a puzzle.

“It’s strange,” she said softly. “To see the past standing so vividly in front of me.”

Ares’s voice dropped. “You knew him?”

“I knew both of them,” she said. “Your father… and your mother.”

Ares tensed beside me.

“What is this?” he said. “A test? A trick?”

The man from the market stepped forward now. “This is history coming back to finish its song.”

Ares stared at him. “Who are you?”

The man smiled, slow and cutting. “We’ll get there.”

“I don’t have time for riddles,” Ares snapped.

“No,” the queen interrupted, voice cool. “But you do have time for answers. And if you want them, you’ll remain here—under watch—until I decide you’ve earned them.”

Ares looked like he might explode, but I reached out and touched his arm. “Ares… maybe we should listen.”

His jaw worked, tension pulsing along his neck, but he said nothing.

The queen stood.

Even the air seemed to still.

“You are not a prisoner,” she said. “Yet. But you walk on the edge of something ancient, Ares. And you must choose wisely.”

Ares took a deep breath. “I want to know where my mother is.”

A flicker passed across the queen’s face. “Then you’ll stay.”

She turned to the man.

“Escort them to the east wing. Give them access to the archives, but nothing further.”

The man gave a small nod.

Then his gaze shifted to me. I froze under the weight of it.

“And keep an eye on the girl,” the queen added.

“She’s… connected.”

I didn’t know what that meant.

But the moment we turned to follow the guards, the man whispered something.

Barely audible.

Just one name.

“Ares.”

I turned sharply, but he wasn’t speaking to me.

He was looking at Ares. Not as a stranger.

But as someone who had known him long before today.

And from the look in Ares’s eyes…

He finally felt it too.