113

113
Chapter 113

Azalea had barely taken five steps out of the council chambers before a maid came running down the hallway, nearly tripping over her skirts.

“My queen!” the maid said breathlessly, bowing quickly. “Leandro’s mother and Thomas’s mother are asking to see you immediately. They are waiting in the East Wing parlor.”

Azalea arched a brow. “Now?”

“Yes, my queen. They said it was urgent.”

Vicky frowned beside her, her hands automatically reaching to steady the hem of Azalea’s gown. “It sounds like trouble,” she murmured.

Azalea’s lips curved into a faint, cold smile. “Then let them wait,” she said simply. “I will go to my chambers first.”

The maid blinked, surprised at the dismissal, but bowed again and quickly scurried away to deliver the message.

Azalea walked back toward the royal wing, her steps measured and graceful, but her mind was working quickly. There was no doubt in her mind that Leandro and Thomas had already run to their mothers, complaining about her presence at the council meeting. This was their next attempt — an indirect attack, aimed at shaming or intimidating her into silence.

When she entered her chamber, Federico was standing near the window, still in the same dark tunic he had been wearing when she left. He turned immediately when he heard the door open, his expression tense — but when he saw her, he relaxed slightly.

“You handled it,” he said, reading the answer on her face.

“They won’t be calling another council meeting behind your back anytime soon,” Azalea replied, removing her crown and placing it gently on the dresser.

“Good,” he said, relief flashing briefly in his eyes. “But I can tell there is something else.”

Azalea nodded, walking closer to him. “Leandro’s mother and Thomas’s mother sent for me. They want me in the East Wing immediately.”

Federico’s expression darkened. “Of course they do. You humiliated their sons today — they cannot bear the thought of a queen who stands her ground.”

Azalea lifted her chin, her voice calm but firm. “I intend to go. But not as a cornered woman. I would like to obtain an official permit from your office before I meet with them. I will not let them twist my presence into a sign of weakness.”

Federico’s lips curved faintly in admiration. “You are learning quickly,” he said. He moved to his writing desk, swiftly taking out his seal and parchment. “Here — this states that as queen, you acted under my authority and with my full knowledge.”

He signed and stamped the document, then handed it to her. Their fingers brushed briefly, and he held her gaze.

“Be careful, Azalea,” he said quietly.

“I always am,” she replied with a small smile.

When Azalea entered the East parlor, both Leandro’s mother and Thomas’s mother were seated stiffly, their backs ramrod straight, their expressions a mixture of outrage and disbelief.

“My queen,” Leandro’s mother said with mock politeness, though her tone held no warmth. “You came.”

“Indeed,” Thomas’s mother added, folding her hands on her lap. “We thought perhaps you would send a messenger. After all, it seems you are quite busy taking the king’s place these days.”

Azalea stood before them, serene and unflinching. “You sent for me,” she said evenly. “So here I am.”

Leandro’s mother narrowed her eyes. “You were at the council meeting. Alone. Speaking for the king. Do you understand how inappropriate that was? In our time as queens, we never once dared step into council matters unless summoned.”

“That is correct,” Thomas’s mother said, nodding sharply. “We respected tradition. We respected the line between a queen’s duties and a king’s.”

Azalea tilted her head slightly, her expression unreadable. “And I am not you.”

The two women exchanged a startled look, clearly not expecting the directness of her words.

Azalea stepped forward, holding out the parchment Federico had given her. “I did not go to that meeting on a whim. I went with the king’s blessing and full authority. If you wish to challenge my right to speak in his name, then you challenge the king himself.”

Thomas’s mother’s face flushed with indignation. “That is not what we are saying—”

“Then what are you saying?” Azalea asked, her voice calm but with an edge that silenced the room. “That I should have let your sons call a council meeting to undermine the king’s command while he is supposedly at the border fighting for this kingdom? That I should have stood by while they insulted his leadership in front of the lords?”

Neither woman answered.

Azalea’s lips curved into a faint, cold smile. “I am not like you. I will not sit silently and allow anyone to weaken the crown. Not the council. Not your sons. Not even you.”

She held their gaze for a long moment, letting the weight of her words settle in the air. Then, with a graceful turn, she tucked the parchment back into her sleeve.

“If that is all, I will take my leave,” she said. “The king expects me to rest, and I have no intention of disobeying him.”

Without waiting for a reply, Azalea turned and swept out of the room, her gown whispering across the marble floor.

Back in her chamber, the tension she had been holding in her spine finally loosened. She closed the door behind her and leaned against it for a brief moment, taking a slow, steady breath.

Federico was already lying on the bed, propped up on one elbow, clearly waiting for her return. He sat up the moment he saw her expression.

“You handled them?” he asked.

Azalea nodded, walking to the dresser and removing her jewelry. “They tried to lecture me about tradition,” she said lightly. “I reminded them that I am not them.”

Federico’s lips quirked in amusement, pride flickering across his features. “I would have loved to see their faces.”

“They were speechless,” Azalea admitted, unable to hide a small smile. “I think they forgot I was raised to stand my ground, even before I became queen.”

She crossed the room and climbed onto the bed beside him, finally letting herself relax.

“You are becoming more dangerous every day,” Federico murmured, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her close.

“Dangerous to those who want to see us fail,” Azalea replied softly, resting her head against his chest.

“Good,” Federico said, kissing the top of her hair. “We will need that strength soon enough.”

For a moment, there was silence, broken only by the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her cheek.

Then Azalea shifted, glancing up at him with a faint smile. “For now,” she whispered, “let us rest. Tomorrow we can deal with the rest of them.”

Federico nodded, pulling her even closer until they were lying side by side. As the candles flickered low, the weight of the day melted away, leaving only the warmth of each other’s presence.

They stayed like that until sleep claimed them both — two figures against the storm that waited outside their chamber doors.