Chapter 73: Favorite

Chapter 73: Favorite
Misarya did not wait for her courage to cool.

She left the safety of her cabin and marched directly toward the center of the camp. She found Jarek alone in the Warlord’s massive command tent, studying a sprawling, hand-drawn map of the northern territories. He looked up as the heavy canvas flap fell shut behind her, his golden-brown eyes registering a flicker of surprise before smoothing into a mask of polite, Askari indifference.

"My Queen," Jarek greeted, offering a shallow bow that bordered on insolent. "Is there something you need? If it is about Maya's duties—"

"I did not come here to speak about this, Jarek," Misarya cut him off, her voice ringing with the cold, aristocratic authority of Halen-dar. She stepped up to the opposite side of the map table, refusing to be intimidated by his massive, battle-scarred frame. "I came to speak about your wife."

Jarek’s jaw tightened instantly. He set down his charcoal stick. "What about my wife?"

"You're placing Rhea into a difficult position by actively plotting against me," Misarya stated, her lilac eyes locked onto his. "You are manipulating the customs of your people to shove your sister into my household to undermine my marriage, and you are breaking your wife's heart in the process."

Jarek blinked, his expression smoothing into a mask of perfect, aloof innocence. "Undermine your marriage? My Queen, I am a soldier. I do not pretend to understand the squabbles of women, but I am sure whatever Maya is doing is merely a misunderstanding..."

Misarya’s smile didn't waver, but the softness left her lilac eyes. "There is no misunderstanding, Jarek. Rhea told me of your plans."

The Warlord’s feigned ignorance vanished instantly. The mention of his wife's confession hardened his features, his jaw locking tight. He let out a slow, measured breath, abandoning the polite facade.

"She is pregnant with your child, Jarek, and yet you are driving her to consider her Right of Severance just to escape your scheming."

For a fraction of a second, genuine panic flashed in Jarek’s eyes. The mention of the divorce right hit him like a physical blow. But the Warlord's pragmatism quickly buried the husband's fear.

"My marriage is my concern, Misarya-Lir," Jarek rumbled, his voice dropping to a dangerous, vibrating register. "I love my wife. I would burn the plains to ash for her and the child she carries. But my love for Rhea does not blind me of my duty. My loyalty to the Dragon King comes before everything—including you."

Misarya swallowed, the polite smile finally slipping from her lips. "If you are loyal to him, you should respect the woman he had chosen as his Queen."

"It is nothing personal," Jarek said, his voice dropping to a low, pragmatic rumble. "It is also not uncommon for us. A Queen's companions more often than not go from shield-sisters to sister-wives..."

"I know you dislike me," Misarya said, keeping her voice incredibly gentle, refusing to let him rattle her. "And I know you disapproved of the King’s decision to marry me from the very beginning. Honestly... Not so long ago, I would have agreed with you." She took a step closer, her spine perfectly straight. "But the Dragon King has made his decision. I am the Queen, regardless of our personal considerations on that matter."

Jarek looked down at her, shaking his head slightly.

"This is not the valleys, Misarya-Lir," Jarek said bluntly. "We do not have hereditary kings and undying, sacred marriages. An Askari King keeps his throne with strength, gold, and heirs to carry on his fight. If it is not Maya... It will be someone else."

"The King has refused Maya's hand," she countered quietly. "He seems quite pleased with me as far as I can tell."

Jarek stared at her. The anger in his expression slowly melted into something far worse: profound, devastating pity. He let out a heavy sigh, resting his large hands flat on the edge of the map table.

"Did you truly think it was a matter of his heart? Do you honestly believe he kept you because he loves you?" Jarek said quietly, shaking his head as if speaking to a naive child. "You're a spoil of war, Misarya-lir. That's what you are."

The absolute certainty in his voice made a cold shard of ice form in Misarya’s stomach. "I am his Queen."

"Do you truly believe," Jarek asked softly, plunging the knife exactly where he knew it would hurt the most, "that when the novelty fades, and your womb remains barren... He will still look at you the same way? When war comes, he will need an Askari Queen to rule with him. I am simply ensuring his legacy is protected for the day he finally realizes that his pretty valley flower cannot survive the plains."

Misarya stared at the map between them, her vision blurring with unshed tears. The fierce, queenly fire that had brought her into the tent was completely extinguished, leaving only the terrified, broken girl from Halen-dar behind.

Jarek took a step closer, his shadow falling over her. "My sister is adorable, my Queen. She is kind, and she wouldn't hurt a soul without being provoked. It could be much worse... Maybe when Ikarion marches North, he could easily find himself another wife there. A wife... Not so kind like my sister. A woman who will definitely put up a good fight for that golden dragon crown of yours."

"What makes you think I wouldn't fight back?" Misarya challenged, her voice steady and fierce.

Jarek let out a short, humorless breath. "You remember Voriak-Lir, don't you? At the feast."

Misarya flinched internally, the memory of the that feast and Voriak's son rape attempt fresh in her mind.

"His first wife, his Queen, fought back fiercely when he started taking other wives," Jarek explained, his voice entirely devoid of malice. "She did keep her crown. But in the end, who sat by his side at that table? It wasn't her. It was his favorite. You can hold onto your crown as tightly as you want, Misarya-Lir... but in the end, it all comes down to how much power the King is willing to give you."

Misarya was silent.

"And to be honest..." Jarek continued. "How much power do you think he is willing to give a Halendarian teenage girl who has yet failed to give him a child?"

The words struck her like a physical blow, slicing perfectly into her deepest, darkest insecurities.

"This Halendarian teenage girl," Misarya said, her voice dropping to a deadly, quiet register that commanded the space around them, "is still your Queen. And you should measure your words the next time you direct them towards me."

Jarek's jaw locked, surprised by the sudden, lethal frost in her tone.

"I will not do to my husband what you did to your wife," Misarya continued, her lilac eyes burning into his, "and make him choose between a spouse and a loyal, esteemed friend."

She smoothed her skirts, her composure flawless, though her heart was hammering a frantic rhythm against her ribs.

"Take good care of Rhea," Misarya finished softly. "She needs her husband now. And she loves you very much. I do think it would break her heart to hear what you just said to me."

With a hollow, devastating silence, Misarya turned her back on the general and walked out of the tent.