Pampered By All

The Grand Hall shimmered with golden light, but Elara's gaze cut through the opulence.

She wasn't here for beauty.

She was here for change.

The nobles assembled like hawks circling their prey, their silks whispering like dry autumn leaves. Whispers floated through the air, soft, sly things that curled around the marble columns like smoke. Elara walked into that space like flame into dry grass, steady and unbothered.

The seat they offered her was deliberate, between two lesser lords, close enough to be visible, yet far enough to sting. Not quite exile. Not quite welcome.

She sat anyway, chin high, movements graceful and sharp.

Let them play their games.

She had learned how to burn quietly.

Across the chamber, the Empress didn't blink. Draped in sapphire silk and shadows, she sat as if carved from frost. Her eyes never left Elara.

Then Lord Gerran stepped forward.

"The council recognizes the Flamebearer," he announced, his voice clipped, formal. "Elara of Bramblecourt. Chosen by the sacred stone. Victorious in the Trial of Echoes."

Scattered applause followed, polite and restrained.

Fake.

Elara didn't need their cheers.

She wanted them to realize she wasn't here to decorate their court. She was here to change it.

Meanwhile, in the Empress's private wing, Isla stood rigid before her mirror, fingers twitching as she secured her cloak.

The summons to Velmoor had come with royal wax and sharper implications.

Duchess Alithia, recluse, sorceress, feared practitioner of shadow magic.

Her voice held no warmth, no room for protest. "Say nothing. Trust no one. Alithia offers no second chances."

Isla's reflection flared with defiance. "And if she refuses to teach me?"

The Empress's eyes narrowed. "Then you were never meant to rule."

Returning to her chamber that evening, she discovered a parcel wrapped in rich crimson silk.

on her desk.

She approached it slowly.

Unwrap it carefully.

Inside lay a blade, elegant, curved, and etched with glowing sigils like flame captured in steel, light, deadly, and beautiful.

There was a note.

"Every queen bleeds before she rules." —M

She held the weapon in her hand, testing its balance.

It didn't feel like a threat.

It felt like a promise.