Tamed by a tyrant

## Chapter 39 – Beneath the Throne

Peace had returned to the palace—but it was a different kind of peace. Not the kind built on joy or celebration, but one forged through exhaustion and wariness. The walls still held echoes of betrayal, and though the conspirators had been exposed, Zara knew better than to believe the danger was truly over.

Because the deeper you went into the heart of the court, the colder it became.

Zara sat in the Queen's study, the morning sun casting golden stripes across the parchment in front of her. She was reviewing reports from the border villages, most of them filled with requests for food, security, and repair. Her quill moved steadily, but her thoughts drifted.

The court had been too quiet lately. Too still.

She had learned that silence was often the deadliest sound in the palace.

A knock interrupted her thoughts.

"Enter," she called.

To her surprise, it was Sir Calven—the captain of the royal guard and one of Damon's most trusted men.

"Your Highness," he said, bowing. "We've uncovered something. In the old cellars beneath the west wing. Something you and the prince must see immediately."

Zara stood without hesitation. "Lead me."

---

The west wing of the palace was rarely used—old, damp, and filled with relics from the past. It was where generations of royals had hidden their secrets, and where the old kings had punished their enemies in the dark days of the kingdom's history.

Sir Calven led her down a narrow stone staircase, the torchlight flickering across moss-covered walls. Two other guards waited below, standing beside a hidden wooden door.

"It was sealed behind a false wall," Calven explained. "We discovered it during routine inspections."

He handed Zara a piece of worn cloth—part of a royal standard with the old king's sigil on it. Her stomach turned.

With a deep breath, she stepped through the door.

Inside was a small, forgotten chamber.

And what she saw made her blood run cold.

Letters. Scrolls. Maps. And a blackened crest etched into the wall—the insignia of a secret order that had once tried to overthrow the throne nearly fifty years ago.

And in the center of the room: a ledger. A record of names.

Zara opened it slowly, each page brittle and yellowed.

Then she saw it—names of current nobles. Advisors. Men and women still serving in court.

Some of them had already been exposed.

But others…

Her breath hitched. One name stood out, circled in red ink.

Lord Kendel.

---

By the time she returned to the palace proper, the fire in Zara's veins had burned away her fear.

Damon met her in the corridor outside the council room.

"What is it?" he asked, reading the fury on her face.

"Come with me," she said.

In the Queen's chamber, she handed him the ledger and pointed to the marked page.

His jaw tightened as he read. "We trusted him."

"Too much," Zara replied. "This wasn't just about politics. He's part of something older. Deeper. An underground faction that's been waiting for the right moment to rise again."

Damon paced the room, fire flickering in his eyes. "We need proof. Something solid enough to bring him down publicly. If we move too soon, it will cause unrest."

Zara met his gaze. "Then we trap him."

---

That night, Zara hosted a private dinner, inviting only a select group of nobles—including Lord Kendel. She wore her most elegant gown, a gown designed to command respect and disarm suspicion. She smiled, laughed, sipped her wine—but beneath the surface, every word she spoke was a move in a dangerous game.

Lord Kendel was as charming as ever. His words were smooth, respectful, laced with subtle mockery only she could detect.

Halfway through the meal, she leaned in slightly.

"Lord Kendel," she said softly, "I've heard... rumors. About a group—secret, ancient. Dedicated to restoring the old bloodlines."

He raised a brow, intrigued. "Dangerous talk, Your Highness."

"But true, isn't it?" she replied, her tone innocent. "The old kings didn't just die out. They left behind loyalists. And perhaps those loyalists still whisper in the halls of this palace."

His gaze flickered, just for a second. That was all she needed.

"I don't deal in fairy tales," he said smoothly.

"No," Zara replied, sipping her wine, "you deal in survival. Just like I do."

---

Later that night, Damon reviewed the enchanted crystal hidden in Zara's necklace—capturing every word of the conversation with Lord Kendel.

It was enough.

The following day, before the full court, Damon summoned Lord Kendel.

The room was packed. Every noble, every advisor, every servant in the hall sensed something monumental was about to happen.

Damon stood tall at the front, his voice thunderous.

"We have uncovered treason—again," he said. "And this time, it runs deeper than before."

He revealed the secret chamber. The ledger. And finally, the recorded conversation.

Gasps rippled through the room.

Lord Kendel did not deny it. He merely looked at Damon and said, "You've made a powerful enemy, Your Majesty."

To which Damon replied, "Then I will rule without fear."

Lord Kendel was escorted away, his fate sealed.

---

After the court dispersed, Damon turned to Zara, pulling her gently into a quiet corridor.

"You were brilliant," he murmured. "You've become more than I ever imagined."

Zara looked up at him, a fierce gleam in her eyes. "This throne isn't just yours, Damon. It's ours. And I will protect it with everything I have."

He kissed her then—slow, reverent—as if acknowledging not just her strength, but the way she had become the foundation of the kingdom's future.

---

That night, as the moon bathed the palace in silver light, Zara stood by the window of her chamber. Her reflection stared back at her—wiser, stronger, no longer the girl who had once trembled at the sound of her husband's footsteps.

No, now she walked beside him, unflinching.

And while the shadows would always linger beneath the throne, they would never again catch her unaware.

---

*End of Chapter 39*