Tamed by a tyrant

**Chapter Thirteen: Letters in the Fire**

The Thorn Circle didn't move in haste.

They moved in layers—like smoke curling around a flame, shaping nothing but meaning everything. Once they believed I was listening, they sent more messages. Carefully crafted. Worded like scripture. Promises and threats braided into silk.

At first, I only read them.

Then I started replying.

Not with truth. With just enough half-lies to keep the game going.

They believed I was desperate. Alone. Abandoned by Lorenzo and despised by his mother. And maybe, in some ways, they weren't wrong.

But desperation was not weakness.

It was a weapon.

Elira begged me to stop.

"They'll use you, Zara."

"Let them try," I said.

We burned every letter after it was read.

Every word committed to memory, then swallowed in ash.

But one message we didn't destroy.

Because it wasn't meant to be hidden.

* * *

I received it on the fifth night after Lorenzo's departure.

Slipped under my pillow, again. But this one was longer.

> "A storm is coming to the throne.

> The Queen Mother bleeds secrets.

> You carry a fire you haven't unleashed.

> We know what you are.

> Let us show you who you can become."

It was signed not with a name, but with a single mark: an hourglass.

I showed it to Elira.

"They want you to meet them," she said, breathless.

"Good," I replied. "Because I was beginning to grow bored."

* * *

The meeting was arranged for midnight.

In the north tower—once a bellwatch post, now abandoned except for pigeons and secrets.

I wore no jewels. Only a cloak, dark as soot, and soft boots that made no sound. Elira tried to follow, but I stopped her.

"If I don't return," I whispered, "light every candle in the palace."

"You'll return," she said. "Because you're not done burning them all down yet."

* * *

The tower groaned with age.

Wind clawed through the broken arches as I climbed the spiral steps. My heart didn't race—but it pulsed harder than usual, each beat a promise: survive. Learn. Strike.

At the top, a single lantern flickered.

Three figures waited.

One was the man I'd met in the library.

Another—a woman in scholar's robes, with a scar cutting through her left brow.

And the third…

Was Maldrin.

I didn't hide my surprise.

"You?" I whispered.

He smiled without warmth. "Didn't think you were the only one being hunted, did you?"

"I should have guessed. You vanished too quickly."

"Because they needed me somewhere more important."

He nodded at the other two.

"This is Delane," he said, indicating the woman. "She handles information. And that's Everin. He's the mouthpiece."

"I thought the Thorn Circle didn't reveal names," I said.

Delane smiled. "We do when we want you to feel trusted."

"But you don't trust me."

"Not yet," Everin said. "But we're willing to start."

I crossed my arms. "Why me?"

Maldrin's voice lowered. "Because you're already in the center. You sleep next to the kingdom's future. You dine with the enemy. You touch the crown when no one's watching. If we're to change the order of this land, it must begin with you."

I said nothing.

So they continued.

"You've seen what the Queen Mother truly is. You've felt the cold weight of royalty. This palace wasn't built for the weak—it was built to break them."

Delane stepped closer. "But you didn't break. Not when they mocked you. Not when they tried to silence you. Not when they left you unguarded."

"You adapted," Everin said. "You learned. You listened."

I nodded slowly. "And now you want me to act."

They exchanged glances.

"We want you to *choose*."

* * *

They offered me their protection.

Their secrets.

Their allegiance—if I gave them mine.

"If I say no?" I asked.

Maldrin tilted his head. "You won't."

"And if I do?"

Everin's voice chilled. "Then we forget you ever existed."

I let the silence stretch.

Then said, "I'll think about it."

"No," Delane said softly. "You won't."

She handed me a sealed letter.

"Deliver this. To the Queen Mother. Unopened. And we'll know you've chosen."

"And if I open it?"

"Then you'll die."

Not a threat.

A truth.

* * *

I descended the tower slowly, the letter pressed against my chest.

Back in my chambers, Elira paced like a caged lion.

"You're safe," she breathed, the moment she saw me. "Thank the stars. What did they say?"

"They want me to deliver something."

She recoiled at the parchment in my hand.

"That's poison," she said. "You know that."

"I'm not going to deliver it."

"Then what?"

I took a deep breath.

"I'm going to rewrite it."

* * *

I didn't sleep that night.

Instead, I sat by the fire with ink and parchment and opened the sealed letter. Inside was exactly what I feared—a carefully worded blackmail threat, outlining events from the Queen Mother's hidden past. Details about Alric. About forged death records. About a nursemaid sent to exile in exchange for silence.

I read it three times.

Then I copied it by hand—exactly as written—but added one sentence:

> "I know you buried your past.

> But if I must become your future,

> you will learn to make room for me."

Then I sealed it with my personal crest.

I burned the original.

And I sent the copy with Mirna at first light.

* * *

The Queen Mother summoned me within the hour.

She didn't speak for a long time.

Just stared.

Then, finally:

"You know everything."

"I know enough."

"And you changed the letter."

"Yes."

Her eyes narrowed. "Why?"

"Because if I delivered the original, it would have made me their puppet. And I'm no one's puppet."

She looked down at the parchment.

Then—unthinkably—she laughed.

Low and long and bitter.

"You might survive this after all."

I said nothing.

She looked up again.

"If you were anyone else, I would have you killed for reading this."

"But I'm not anyone else," I said.

She nodded. "No. You're a lion cub in the viper's nest. But still too small to bite."

"Not for long."

She held my gaze.

And for the first time—I think she saw me.

Not as a mistake.

Not as a threat.

But as a rival.

* * *

That night, I didn't write back to the Thorn Circle.

I didn't send a signal.

Didn't leave a message.

I let them wait.

Let them wonder.

Because now, I held a truth none of them could twist.

The Queen Mother owed me silence.

And in the palace of whispers, silence was the loudest power of all.