The summons came at dusk.
A gilded scroll, pressed into Selene's hands by a trembling page boy who could not meet her eyes.
A simple message, sealed with the black wax of the royal crest.
The Queen is required to attend the council. Immediately.
Required.
Not invited.
Not requested.
Ordered.
Selene stood for a long moment, the parchment crinkling between her fingers.
She had known it was coming.
The attack in the gardens had only accelerated what was inevitable.
The court would not be content to strike at Cassian alone.
Not when the new queen bled just as sweetly.
She dressed quickly, choosing a gown of deep green, the color of ancient forests and hidden blades.
Simple. Modest. Dangerous.
Hidden among the folds of the fabric were three small knives and a vial of clear poison tucked inside her glove.
A queen must look beautiful.
A queen must be ready to kill.
Selene pinned her hair into a simple coil at the nape of her neck, no jewels, no adornments.
Only steel beneath silk.
Only fire beneath ice.
The council chamber buzzed with low conversation when she entered.
Dozens of noblemen and women stood clustered in uneasy groups, their faces turning as one toward her.
Cassian was not present yet.
She was alone.
Exactly as they wanted.
Selene crossed the floor slowly, each step deliberate.
A lamb walking into a den of wolves.
Except they had forgotten.
She had teeth too.
Lady Alessa of Rivermount approached first, her gown a waterfall of shimmering gold, her smile sharp and predatory.
"Your Majesty," she purred, offering a curtsy that was more mockery than respect.
Selene inclined her head graciously.
"My lady," she replied smoothly.
Alessa straightened, her voice dropping to a low, conspiratorial murmur.
"You must be exhausted, carrying the weight of a kingdom on your shoulders. Perhaps it is too much for one so... newly crowned."
The threat was clear.
Selene smiled sweetly.
"I find," she said, her tone like velvet wrapped around a dagger, "that weight strengthens the spine. Perhaps you should try it."
A flicker of fury passed through Alessa's eyes before she dipped her head in mock deference and retreated into the crowd.
Selene moved through the room, noting the shifting alliances.
The Duke of Marvane speaking too closely with a minor prince from the southern border.
The High Chancellor's wife whispering urgently behind her fan.
A merchant lord slipping a sealed letter into the sleeve of a masked envoy.
Plots within plots.
Knives behind every smiling mouth.
She was not among courtiers.
She was among predators.
And they were circling her now.
Waiting for weakness.
Waiting for a stumble.
Waiting for blood.
At last, Cassian entered, flanked by a double line of guards.
The crowd parted reluctantly to let him pass, their heads bowing, their gazes lingering.
He said nothing as he ascended the dais at the far end of the room.
He did not need to.
His silence was heavier than any shout.
Selene took her place beside him, her heart steady, her hands still.
Cassian's gaze flickered toward her briefly, a silent question.
Are you ready?
Selene did not move, did not speak.
But she knew the answer.
She had been ready since the moment she chose to survive.
The Chancellor cleared his throat, the sound loud in the charged silence.
"Your Majesties," he said, "we are here to discuss the security of the Crown, and the... unfortunate instability caused by recent events."
Selene said nothing.
Cassian said nothing.
The wolves were forced to continue.
One by one, the lords and ladies began to speak.
Voicing concern over the safety of the palace.
Suggesting tighter controls over royal movements.
Proposing the reassignment of guards, of staff, of confidants.
Every word was a blade aimed at Selene.
Every suggestion a veiled attempt to isolate her, to strip her of protection, to make her vulnerable.
To make her bleed.
At last, a minor lord spoke the words they had all been circling around.
"Perhaps," he said, voice smooth as oil, "it would be prudent for Her Majesty to... retire from courtly affairs. Until the situation stabilizes."
A murmur of agreement rippled through the room.
Selene felt the weight of their gazes press against her skin.
Waiting.
Pushing.
Daring her to fall.
Cassian remained silent, his face unreadable.
This was her battle.
He would not fight it for her.
Selene rose slowly from her seat, the folds of her gown whispering against the marble.
She looked out over the assembled wolves, letting the silence build until it was a blade all its own.
Then she spoke.
"My lords and ladies," Selene said, her voice calm and cold, "it seems you mistake caution for cowardice."
The crowd shifted uneasily.
She let her words sink in before continuing.
"I have bled for this crown," she said. "I have fought for it. I will not be driven into the shadows by the whimpering of cowards dressed in silk."
Gasps echoed across the chamber.
The High Chancellor looked as if he might faint.
Selene smiled, slow and razor-sharp.
"Let the wolves come," she said. "They will find the Queen of Veredon is not so easy to devour."
The silence that followed was absolute.
Even Cassian's lips curved, just slightly, in something that might have been approval.
Selene sat once more, folding her hands neatly in her lap.
The council session dragged on, but the tide had shifted.
For now.
The wolves had been warned.
And Selene had shown them her teeth.
Later, as she walked back through the darkening halls toward her chambers, Cassian fell into step beside her.
He said nothing for a long moment.
Then, quietly, he spoke.
"You did not just survive today."
Selene tilted her head slightly.
"I know."
Cassian smiled.
"You ruled."
And somewhere deep inside, where the ashes of her fear still smoldered, Selene smiled too.
The war was far from over.
The knives were still waiting.
But tonight, at least, she had stood among them and bled no more.