The doors of the Royal Council Chamber creak open, and I step into a room full of tradition, ego, and expectation. Every seat is filled. No one wants to miss today. Not when both the Queen and Crown Prince are absent.
The weight of history presses in from the gold-etched pillars and the towering mural of the Founding Monarchs above us. I almost falter, almost.
But then I feel the warm grip of Council Head Edric on my elbow. His tall frame walks with surprising steadiness for a man well into his sixties.
"Come, Your Highness," he says gently. "The council is yours today."
He leads me to the high seat usually reserved for Cassian, and I sit, cautiously and purposefully. The room falls silent.
Edric turns to the table. "In the absence of the Crown, Princess Celeste Lucien will chair today's session, as appointed."
No one argues. But I see the flickers, small, sharp glances passed between members. They're watching me. Measuring.
I lift the scroll. My voice is clear. "Let's begin."
For the next hour, we move swiftly through the agenda.
A new proposal for agricultural subsidies in the Outer Territories. Passed.
An audit report on the royal treasury allocations. Referred to the subcommittee.
Appointments to the Security Review Board. Debated and then approved.
Edric supports me at every turn, subtly guiding procedure, whispering reminders when necessary. I manage to hold my own, my voice calm, my posture firm. There are no outbursts. No drama.
Not until the floor opens for closing remarks.
That's when it begins.
Councilor Fenra rises, her eyes sharp beneath her ivory veil. "Before we adjourn," she begins, "there is one matter of grave concern among us."
My chest tightens. I brace.
"It's about the Queen," she continues. "We have received no formal update on her health. The palace medical wing is sealed, the court physician silent. And now, Prince Cassian has also withdrawn."
A few heads nod.
Councilor Vexen adds, "With all due respect, we're not just stewards of land and economy. We safeguard the monarchy's stability. And this silence threatens it."
Councilor Runo leans in. "We've heard troubling things. Strange symptoms. Blood loss. Some say… poison."
"And what of Shea?" Danthos presses. "She vanished the moment this illness appeared."
The name strikes a chord. Eyes turn toward me.
"She's never been formally introduced. We don't know who she is or what authority she holds. But she was always at the Queen's side."
I let the silence settle for a moment. Then I speak; measured, and precise.
"I understand your concerns. As it stands, the Queen is undergoing medical treatment. Prince Cassian is personally overseeing her care. No official diagnosis has been released, but the matter is being handled with discretion and urgency."
Edric watches me. He gives a small nod of approval, or permission to go on.
"As for Shea," I continue, "her relationship with the Queen is of personal origin. At present, there is no evidence linking her to any wrongdoing. However, I will relay the council's request for a formal statement."
Vexen's jaw tightens. "That's not enough."
Fenra sighs. "We demand transparency. Silence breeds unrest."
I hold her gaze. "And reckless speculation breeds damage."
The chamber is quiet again.
Not out of agreement. But uncertainty. And something else.
They've seen me hold the chamber in line.
Not by royal decree.
But by control.
I glance once at Edric. His eyes are steady. Proud.
I close the scroll with finality.
"If there are no further matters, the Council is adjourned."
And with that, I rise, and so does the room.
But I feel the shift beneath their bows and murmurs.
There's smoke in the walls of this palace.
And soon, fire will follow.
***
Evening has settled into the palace like a velvet curtain, soft but heavy.
I find Cassian in the study. Not the grand one near the main hall, but the smaller chamber tucked behind our quarters, the one he prefers when he wants to think.
He's seated, unbuttoned, leaning over a medical chart with his fingers threaded through his hair.
He looks up when I step in. "You handled the council today," he says, and though his voice is low, I hear the weight in it. "Thank you."
I nod and sink into the chair across from him. "They needed direction. Edric helped me keep it steady."
He leans back. "What did they say?"
I hesitate. "They noticed your absence. And the Queen's. Some are worried."
His jaw tightens. "Understandably."
"They've heard things… about blood loss. Unnatural symptoms. Some believe it's poison. Others are whispering witchcraft." I pause. "And some… brought up Shea."
That makes him sit up straighter. "Shea?"
I nod. "They say she's never been formally introduced. That she vanished the moment the Queen took ill."
Cassian exhales slowly and rubs the back of his neck. "I've tried not to think about that."
I tilt my head. "What do you mean?"
He pushes the file across the table toward me. "Dr. Malrick ran full diagnostics today. The Queen's condition is worsening. She's becoming severely anemic. He says she needs a direct blood transfusion, not from a bank. From someone within the royal bloodline."
I glance at the chart. "So… you?"
He shakes his head. "My blood doesn't match. At all."
I blink. "But…"
"She has a rare genotype. AB negative. Extremely rare in Matica. Malrick says her immune system would reject the transfusion if the match isn't precise."
My fingers tighten around the armrest. "So who else…?"
He meets my eyes. "The Queen was adamant. She kept repeating Shea's name. She wants Shea tested."
Something coils inside me. Slowly. Tightly.
"Shea?" I echo, slowly.
He nods. "She won't rest until it's done."
I straighten. The silence between us sharpens, then stretches thin like glass about to crack.
"She was insistent?" I ask, my voice low.
"Obsessed," he admits. "She even asked Malrick to bypass formal clearance. Said it was 'imperative' that Shea be tested quickly."
I stare at him, eyes narrowing. "And you didn't think to tell me this sooner?"
"I didn't want to start more speculation," he says. "Not until we were sure…"
"We're in the middle of a storm, Cassian," I say, rising to my feet. "And the Queen is gripping onto someone we barely know while the court is on fire with whispers about her."
He frowns. "You think she's hiding something?"
"I think she's already hidden something. And now it's unraveling."
He stands as well, moving closer. "Do you think Shea is a threat?"
I pause.
Not yet.
But something about the Queen's desperation and Shea's silence tugs at the back of my mind like a thread I'm not ready to pull.
"I think," I say carefully, "it's time we both stop pretending this is just a medical issue."
Cassian doesn't reply.
We stand there for a moment, both caught between duty and doubt.
The shadows deepen outside. Somewhere down the hall, a bell tolls softly, another hour lost to silence and secrets.
***
I make my way to the Queen's apartment. The air feels tighter the closer I get, as if the walls themselves are holding their breath.
Cassian trails behind me in silence, his steps heavy with frustration.
Inside, the Queen is propped against her velvet-pillowed headrest, pale, regal, and stubborn as ever. Her eyes sharpen the moment she sees me.
"I said no more visitors," she mutters.
I ignore that.
"You asked for Shea to be tested," I begin, carefully, "but the council wants to know who she is. And frankly, so do I."
The Queen's gaze hardens. "This is not your concern, Celeste."
"With respect, Your Majesty, it became my concern when you collapsed under my care. When you named a stranger as your potential blood donor in the middle of a medical crisis." My voice doesn't shake, even though my heart hammers.
Cassian speaks gently from behind me. "Mother, the secrecy is hurting your case. If Shea's truly loyal, why is she hiding?"
"I will not explain myself to either of you," she snaps, her voice thin but venomous. "Shea is mine. That is all anyone needs to know."
Her eyes settle on mine; tired, sunken, yet still full of that icy will.
"Find someone else to blame," she says bitterly. "But leave my Shea out of it."
Before Cassian can respond, there's a sharp knock at the lounge door.
A guard steps in, slightly breathless, bowing low. "Your Highnesses… we've found her."
My heart stills.
"Found who?" Cassian asks.
"Shea," the guard replies. "She was caught at the outer border checkpoint… trying to leave Matica without clearance. Disguised."
A beat of stunned silence stretches.
The Queen's fingers curl around her blanket. "What?"
"She had a forged ID," the guard adds. "She's being held at the gatehouse. She's refusing to speak."
I don't move.
Cassian's eyes meet mine and this time, no words are needed.
The Queen's precious Shea was running.
And whatever she's hiding… just became a matter of national security.