Chapter 74 THE QUEENS FEAR
She shifted again, pain flaring briefly in her side. She ignored it because pain was familiar but fear was not.
“She has exposed your mother,” Athalia continued. “And once that is done, she will not stop and will follow the thread.”
Adrian’s voice dropped. “Are you afraid?”
Athalia met his eyes. “No, I just care for the peoples safety.”
The admission surprised them both.
“I am alone,” Athalia said quietly. “Sick, watched, yet she is gathering voices like she's against the kingdom.”
Adrian’s expression softened despite himself. “You are not alone.”
Athalia smiled faintly. “I wish it were true. You only came here for comfort. Don’t pretend otherwise.”
He did not deny it.
“I know she's just consort but the court listens to her now,” Adrian said. “ because they trust her.”
“They trusted me once, and I'm sure they will if I'm back,” Athalia replied. “Trust is not loyalty. It shifts.”
She reached out, her fingers brushing his sleeve. The touch was light, calculated, and familiar.
“I know you miss my influence,” she said. “You miss knowing that someone else would decide what must be done.”
Adrian closed his eyes briefly. “I only miss clarity.”
“Then listen,” Athalia said. Her voice sharpened, cutting through the weakness beneath it. “Celine must be removed.”
Adrian’s eyes snapped open. “No.”
“Not killed,” Athalia said smoothly. “Displaced, discredited and silenced. Find another”
He stepped back. “You’re asking me to betray my wife.”
“What am I then to you?”she asked.
Adrain said nothing.
“Do not mistake her for the Queen here, she's only a consort.” Athalia said
I am only asking you to save your crown,” Athalia continued. “Before she turns it into a platform for truth that will burn us all.”
Adrian shook his head. “But she hasn’t accused you.”
“She will,” Athalia said. “Because I am the end of the thread.”
Silence fell again and the tower seemed to listen.
“You’re sick,” Adrian said at last. “You shouldn’t be plotting.”
Athalia smiled. “Sickness clarifies oneself.”
She coughed again, harder this time. Adrian moved instinctively, steadying her shoulders.
“Send no one else to the tower or close to me,” Athalia whispered when it passed. “I trust only a few.”
He looked at her, at the frailty, and the iron still burning beneath it.
“I will not act against my…,” Adrian said quietly.
“Don’t you dare…” Athalia snapped.
Adrian pulled away and moved toward the door. “Rest,” he said. “I’ll return.”
She watched him go, her expression unreadable.
When the door closed, Athalia exhaled slowly. The strength drained from her limbs all at once. She lay back against the pillows, staring at the ceiling again.
Celine had forced her hand.
Later that night, a different visitor climbed the tower.
It was a Dark guard.
He did not knock. He moved with practiced ease, slipping through passages Athalia had not taught anyone else. He knelt beside her bed, waiting until her eyes opened.
“You sent for me, your highness” he said.
“I sent for you to silence someone ,” Athalia replied. “I know you will provide it.”
He studied her pallor. “You don’t look like you have much time.”
“Neither does she,” Athalia said.
She told him what she knew of the Queens careful web and now she might find out mine.
“You will not touch her, for now” Athalia said. “You will find out her secret and expose it.”
He nodded. “And if i encounter any issues?”
Athalia’s eyes hardened. “Then remind her how easily voices disappear.”
He rose and vanished back into the dark.
Athalia lay awake long after, listening to the tower breathe.
Far below, in a chamber filled with lamplight and papers, Celine paused mid-sentence as a chill traced her spine.
She had recovered and was reading testimony and names she recognized, with routes she had traced herself. She smiled faintly, sensing movement in the dark not yet visible.
“I can't believe…” she murmured to herself. “You’re finally afraid.”
She folded the parchment and sealed it, unaware that elsewhere, in a tower that had once ruled the kingdom, Queen Athalia stared into the dark and made one final calculation.
If Celine exposed everything, the kingdom would fall. And Athalia had never let a kingdom fall without taking someone with it.
The tower bells rang once, sharp and unexpected.
And in the silence that followed, two queens with one rising, and one fading moved their pieces toward a collision neither of them intended to survive.
On a sunny afternoon, the noble women had a gathering and the asked a question.
“Her Majesty, Queen Athalia is tired.”
Celine let the words fall gently into the room, as though they were concern and not a blade.
The noblewomen seated around her exchanged glances. Silk rustled, rings caught the light, yet no one spoke at first. The chamber smelled of tea and restraint, of things said carefully and planned slowly.
“Tired?” Lady Morwen repeated at last. “Or unwell?”
Celine lowered her gaze, folding her hands in her lap. The faint scar beneath her ribs ached as she shifted, a reminder of how close she had come to dying and how much closer she now stood to power.
“She struggles to rise most mornings,” Celine said. “The physicians do what they can. But the Queen… is not as she once was.”
No one contradicted her.
Athalia’s illness had become the palace’s worst-kept secret and rumors moved faster than messengers ever could.
Lady Serah leaned forward. “The people are beginning to notice.”
Celine nodded. “That is why we must act with care. This is not about removing her but it's about helping her.”
The word “helping” lingered.
By nightfall, Celine had visited three salons, spoken to seven women, and planted the same seed in each room. She never spoke of overthrow and spoke of power. She spoke of rest, of dignity and of mercy.
“She deserves peace,” Celine said softly to a group of elder nobles. “After all she has endured.”
“And the crown?” one of them asked.
Celine smiled faintly. “The crown must survive her.”
That was when the room went quiet.
But deep down her plan was simple.