Chapter 94- Air of Treason

Chapter 94- Air of Treason


The palace was very quiet.

Morning light poured through the high windows, pale and cold, spilling across the mosaic floors like water through broken glass. The storm had passed, but its silence lingered heavy, expectant. Ariella walked slowly through the garden corridor, her fingers brushing along wet leaves as she passed.

The servants bowed as she entered the courtyard, but their eyes darted away. They whispered when they thought she couldn’t hear.

She caught fragments “the council,” “Lord Dravyen,” “the Queen’s temper.”

Each word sliced sharper than a blade.

Ariella didn’t slow. She’d learned not to. She moved like stone now deliberate, unshakable though inside, her thoughts circled like hawks.

By the time she reached the war chamber, Ares was already there, standing over the table map with his sleeves rolled to his elbows. Claire sat at the far end, her hands folded over a cup of steaming tea. The tension in the room was quiet but alive, like the moment before a match was struck.

Ares didn’t look up as Ariella entered. “You heard them, didn’t you?”

“I did,” she said softly. “Every word.”

He slammed his fist against the table. “Then we deal with them now. Dravyen’s been whispering treason for months. Let me call the guards.”

Ariella didn’t flinch. “No.”

Ares turned, his eyes blazing. “No?”

She moved closer, her voice calm, too calm. “If we drag him out in chains, we confirm his power. We turn whispers into prophecy.”

“So you want to wait until he sticks a knife in your back?”

“I want him to show me who else holds the knife,” she said.

Ares stared at her at the strange stillness that had replaced her old fire. “You’ve changed.”

“I’ve learned,” Ariella murmured.

Claire rose then, her gaze steady on Ariella. “You can’t do this alone. If there’s rot in the council, it spreads fast. You need to know who to trust.”

Ariella nodded. “I trust you. And Cador. That will be enough for now.”

Ares frowned. “And me?”

Her eyes softened. “Always you.”

He looked away, jaw tightening. “Then give me something to do.”

“You’ll have it soon,” she said. “For now, let me watch them breathe.”



By afternoon, the palace had returned to its shallow rhythm. Courtiers drifted through the halls like ghosts, pretending the air wasn’t thick with unease.

Lord Cador arrived quietly, cloak damp from the mist. His face was grim, his hands full of sealed reports.

He bowed deeply. “Your Majesty.”

“What have you found?” Ariella asked.

Cador laid the parchments across the table, careful, deliberate. “Supplies meant for the northern outposts never arrived. Food, weapons, horses all vanished from the  store room three days before the last battle.”

Ares leaned forward. “And you think Dravyen’s behind it?”

Cador hesitated. “I think he’s part of something larger. Someone is feeding information north perhaps to Cole’s remnants.”

The name hung heavy in the air.

Ariella’s expression didn’t change, but her pulse quickened. “How certain are you?”

Cador exhaled. “Certain enough to lose sleep.”

She studied the old man the lines around his eyes, the weight of loyalty carved deep into his shoulders. “You’ve always been careful with your words. Why tell me this now?”

“Because,” he said quietly, “I remember what loyalty costs when it’s ignored.”

For a moment, something passed between them not warmth, but respect.

Ariella turned toward Ares. “We’ll set a trap.”

Ares crossed his arms. “What kind?”

“We leak false orders troop movements, coded supply routes. If those reach Cole’s men, we’ll know who passed them.”

“And if Dravyen catches the bait?” Ares asked.

“Then he’ll hang by it,” Ariella said.



The trap was set by dusk.

Cador left the chamber under the guise of a courier meeting. Claire drafted the false missives herself, her pen steady though her eyes betrayed unease.

“You’re walking a knife’s edge,” she told Ariella softly as they sealed the last letter.

“I know,” Ariella said. “But sometimes the only way to find the truth is to bleed for it.”

Claire hesitated, then said quietly, “I liked you better before you learned to talk like him.”

Ariella smiled faintly. “And I liked the world better before it made me.”



Later that evening, the council chamber was empty again. The great fire burned low, shadows dancing across the walls. Ariella stood at the window, watching the courtyard below. Guards changed shifts, torches flickering like restless eyes.

Ares entered behind her. “Cador’s men reported movement,” he said. “A messenger left Dravyen’s quarters an hour ago. Headed north.”

Ariella didn’t turn. “Then it begins.”

Ares moved closer, lowering his voice. “Do you want me to follow?”

“No,” she said. “Let him think he’s invisible. We’ll follow the trail once he’s far enough to hang himself.”

Ares stared at her profile the calm poise, the edge of steel beneath her composure. “You scare me when you’re like this.”

She glanced at him, one brow lifted. “Why?”

“Because you sound like me.”

A faint smile touched her lips. “Then you taught me well.”



Hours passed. The palace dimmed, torches guttering low.

Ariella found herself walking alone through the gallery, her steps echoing. Portraits of old rulers watched her from the walls kings and queens with cold, painted eyes. For the first time, she saw herself among them. Not the girl who had once doubted, but the woman forged in blood and consequence.

Claire’s words echoed in her mind: You’re finding out how much of yourself was hidden.

A voice broke the stillness behind her.

“My Queen.”

She turned. Lord Cador stood there again, pale, eyes tight with unease. “The courier never reached the northern gates,” he said. “He was intercepted near the river. Someone killed him before he could deliver the message.”

Ariella’s pulse slowed. “And the letter?”

“Gone.”

Ares appeared in the doorway, drawn by the noise. “They knew it was false. Someone warned them.”

“Then Dravyen isn’t alone,” Ariella said.

Cador hesitated. “There’s more. The guard who found the body swore he saw a seal burned into the courier’s wrist a sigil I haven’t seen for some time”

Ariella stepped closer. “Whose?”

Cador met her eyes. “Dylan’s.”

The chamber went still.

Ariella’s gaze drifted to the window, where the horizon burned faintly red beneath the dying light. “Then the war never ended,” she said quietly.

Ares clenched his fists. “You should have let me kill Dravyen when I had the chance.”

“No,” she said. “Now we’ll let him believe he’s winning.”

He stared at her, realizing the plan forming behind her calm exterior. “You’re going to use him.”

“Yes.”

Ariella turned back to the window. “If he wants to play traitor, I’ll make him believe he’s the only one who can save the kingdom. And when Cole returns, Dravyen will bring him straight to us.”

Ares frowned. “You’re gambling everything.”

“That’s what queens do,” she said.

The firelight caught her face then part shadow, part flame.

She rested a hand against the glass, her reflection staring back at her calm, cold, resolute. “If they want war,” she whispered, “we’ll give them one they won’t survive.”