Tamed by a tyrant

**Chapter Eleven: The Spy in Scarlet**

Lorenzo had not returned.

Four days had passed. Four long, coiled days, and the silence of his absence pressed in tighter with each tick of the palace clocks. It wasn't just the void of him that bothered me—it was what crept into it. The quiet stares. The drawn-out courtesies. The sudden stiffness of servants who once smiled.

Everyone was watching.

Everyone was waiting.

For me to fall.

But I had learned something in his absence: I didn't need Lorenzo's shadow to keep me safe. I needed my own fire.

So I lit it.

That morning, I summoned Elira before breakfast, my voice firm.

"I need a list."

She raised an eyebrow. "Of what?"

"Every servant who's entered my chambers in the last week. Their names, positions, when they were hired, and who approved them."

She didn't ask questions. Just nodded and vanished through the door with the swiftness of a shadow.

I dressed slowly, deliberately. I chose black today—a queen's mourning color, but I wore it not for grief. I wore it for warning. Let them think what they would. That I was in pain. That I was unraveling. That I missed my husband so much I'd taken to brooding like a widow.

Let them assume.

Let them misstep.

By noon, Elira returned with the parchment.

"Thirty-two names," she said. "Five of them recently rotated in from the South Wing. All new hires."

I unfolded the list at my writing table, studying the columns. One name, scribbled in a lighter ink, caught my attention.

"Mirna," I said aloud. "Scarlet laundry maid. Late-night duty. No prior records."

Elira frowned. "She wasn't on the hiring list I reviewed. But she was cleared through Housekeeping."

I tapped the table. "Bring her to me."

Elira hesitated. "If she's a spy, she may run."

"Then run faster."

* * *

Mirna was trembling when she entered my solar. Her hands were ink-stained. Her apron was clean, but her shoes were soaked. She'd been scrubbing something—and pulled away too quickly.

She curtsied deeply.

"Your Highness."

"What's your name?" I asked, calm but cold.

"Mirna, Princess. I—I work in laundry, night rotation."

"You've been assigned to my rooms."

"Yes, Your Highness. I—I was told to assist with linens and—"

"You were seen placing something beneath my pillow three nights ago."

Her eyes widened. "No, I—I didn't—"

"Mirna," I said, rising to my feet. "Don't lie to me. Not today."

Her voice cracked. "I didn't know what it was. I was told to leave notes. That it was for the prince. That it would help him protect you. I didn't know…"

I moved closer. "Who gave you the notes?"

"I—I never saw their face. They sent a boy. Same time every week. He'd wait in the servants' passage near the chapel. If I didn't take it, he said my brother wouldn't get the medicine he needs. He's very sick."

Tears welled up in her eyes.

"They said they were watching. That if I told anyone, I'd never see my brother again."

"And who are *they*, Mirna?"

Her lips quivered. "They didn't say. But once… once the boy dropped something. A medallion."

She reached into her apron and pulled out a small piece of blackened metal, no bigger than a coin.

I took it carefully.

An hourglass. Thorns circling it.

The Thorn Circle.

Again.

"Where is the boy now?"

"I—I haven't seen him in two nights."

Elira stepped forward. "Should I have her confined?"

I looked at Mirna.

She was pale, terrified, shaking like a leaf in a storm. But I could also see the truth in her—she hadn't meant to be dangerous. She was a pawn. And I needed pawns just as much as I needed queens.

"No," I said. "She stays close. Assign her to my service. She does her work here, in my eye. And we watch for when they come for her again."

Elira looked surprised, but nodded. "Understood."

I handed her the medallion.

"Have this inspected. Quietly."

* * *

That night, I moved through the palace differently.

No longer the silent, scared bride trailing behind a man with the weight of a kingdom on his shoulders.

Now I walked like the weight was mine.

And I carried it well.

I attended a small gathering in the Queen Mother's private hall—a salon filled with minor nobles, senior guardsmen, and two of the high-ranking court advisors. I smiled when necessary. Laughed when expected. But I said little.

Instead, I listened.

Rumors were shifting. The Queen Mother had begun meeting with new allies—names I didn't recognize. Trade officials from the Western Ports. Ambassadors from old bloodlines once exiled by Lorenzo's father.

And Maldrin was gone.

Vanished without a trace.

I asked Elira.

"He left for the capital's edge yesterday," she said. "No escort. No word."

"Do we know where?"

"No. But he's not alone. Three carriages went with him. Locked from the outside."

I said nothing.

The Thorn Circle was moving pieces again.

* * *

The next morning, I went to the temple.

Not for prayer.

For privacy.

The royal chapel was empty in the early hours. Only the marble saints stared down from their altars, hands frozen mid-blessing. I sat in the pew farthest from the altar, beneath a stained-glass image of the goddess of justice.

And I waited.

Ten minutes passed before a figure slipped in beside me.

General Arden.

His beard was neatly trimmed. His armor dark but silent. He didn't bow. Didn't smile. Just sat, hands resting on his knees.

"I thought you might summon me," he said.

"I didn't summon you."

"No. But you burned a letter last night. One with a sigil. And you let the laundry girl live."

I looked at him.

"You've been watching me."

"I watch everyone. Especially those who wear the crown."

"I don't wear it yet."

He glanced at me. "But you will."

I studied him carefully.

"Do you serve the Thorn Circle?"

"No," he said flatly. "But I know them. And I know they've infiltrated everything from the palace guard to the queen's tailors."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because the Circle is no longer content to whisper. They're taking action. And they won't stop until the throne is theirs."

"Do they want Lorenzo dead?"

"Not yet. But if he stands in their way, they won't hesitate."

"And me?"

He turned his body slightly toward me.

"You're harder to read. Some believe you'll become one of them. Some believe you're a liability. And some… think you might be their greatest mistake."

I swallowed. "What do *you* believe?"

He gave me a faint smile.

"I think you're the one person no one in this palace truly understands. Not even yourself. That makes you dangerous."

"And dangerous women don't last long here," I whispered.

"No," he said. "But sometimes, they change everything before they fall."

He stood, nodded once, and left.

* * *

That night, I did not sleep.

I stood at the edge of my balcony, wind tugging at the hem of my robe, and stared out at the dark.

Somewhere, Lorenzo was walking into danger. Somewhere, the Thorn Circle was threading new strings into the court's web. And here I stood—at the center of it all.

But I wasn't afraid.

Not anymore.

Because now I had eyes watching in the shadows.

Now I had ears in the kitchens and halls.

Now I had names.

And soon, I'd have power.

They thought I was the lamb married to a lion.

But they were wrong.

I was the girl who taught herself to bare her own teeth.