A day passed.
Then another.
Selene played the part of the dutiful queen as if it were stitched into her skin.
She sat in court beside Cassian with an unreadable smile.
She attended audiences with foreign dignitaries.
She even walked the gardens with a prayer book in hand, giving the impression of peace.
And beneath it all, her web stretched farther.
Thinner.
Sharper.
Invisible.
Exactly as she intended.
It began with the Duke of Marvane.
By the third day, he approached her with a folded letter during the midmorning meal.
His hand shook slightly as he passed it to her, concealed between a silver tray and a napkin.
She said nothing.
Only took the message with a nod and a smile, as if it were a compliment or a menu suggestion.
Later, in the quiet of her chambers, she read it.
It was an offer.
Not an alliance yet, but a door.
The Duke was testing her.
He had taken the bait.
And now he was opening the first gate to the enemy.
Selene sat by the fire, staring at the parchment in her hands.
The ink was still drying.
The heat from the flames kissed her bare arms, but the chill inside her was spreading faster.
The game had begun.
And it was already moving.
She sent her reply that night, written in careful, deliberate lines.
Not eager.
Not begging.
Just enough to draw him closer.
Just enough to let him think she was desperate.
Men like Marvane were never more dangerous than when they believed they were in control.
She sent the letter through a servant loyal not to her, but to Cassian.
She made certain of it.
Because this part of the plan required eyes.
Not hers.
His.
By the fourth day, the second thread of the web pulled tight.
Lady Virenia sent Selene a gift.
A necklace of moonstones, lovely, expensive, and hollow.
Tucked inside the clasp was a folded sliver of silk.
Embroidered on it in gold thread was a single phrase.
The eastern lords have begun to move. The king does not see it.
Selene held the silk between her fingers, her thoughts moving too quickly to speak.
Virenia was not stupid.
She was not loyal either.
But she was afraid.
And fear could be molded like soft wax in the hands of someone patient.
Selene placed the silk in a small box beneath her bed, beside other messages not yet burned.
Evidence.
Tools.
Keys.
She kept moving.
Kept smiling.
Kept watching.
Cassian said little, though his eyes lingered on her more than before.
Not with softness.
With weight.
He knew she was up to something.
He simply did not know what.
Yet.
It was on the sixth day that something unexpected happened.
Selene was walking the western cloister alone when she heard it.
Footsteps.
Not guards.
Not servants.
Soft.
Deliberate.
Tracking her.
She turned down a narrow hallway, one she knew curved into a dead end, an old corner of the palace not used since before the war.
She kept walking until she reached the final archway.
Then she turned sharply.
And caught him.
A man.
Young.
Lean.
Dressed in the dark uniform of the royal guard.
But she had never seen his face before.
And she knew every member of Cassian's personal protection force by name.
Selene narrowed her eyes.
"You're not assigned to me," she said.
The man bowed low.
"Forgive me, Your Majesty. I was ordered to observe."
"By whom?"
He did not answer.
Only straightened, then walked away without another word.
Vanished before she could follow.
That night, she found Cassian waiting in her outer chambers.
He stood by the window, a glass of wine untouched in his hand, his expression unreadable.
Selene entered without surprise.
She knew he would come.
He spoke without turning.
"The Duke of Marvane sent a letter today."
Selene crossed to the hearth, where the fire had been lit and left to burn too hot.
She sat slowly, letting the heat sting her palms.
"Did he?" she asked mildly.
Cassian looked over his shoulder.
"Do you know what it said?"
Selene lifted her gaze to his.
"Should I?"
He turned fully then, his eyes sharp and tired.
"It said my queen is looking for protection elsewhere."
The words hung in the air like smoke.
Selene didn't flinch.
"You have eyes in every corridor, Cassian. Did you really believe I wouldn't start planting my own?"
He didn't answer.
Only watched her for a long, long moment.
"You're building something," he said quietly.
Selene folded her hands in her lap.
"Yes," she replied.
"I am."
He took a slow step forward.
Then another.
Until the distance between them was small enough to feel.
"But not against me?" he asked.
Selene smiled, cool and tired.
"I don't know," she whispered.
"Should I be?"
Cassian's jaw clenched, but he said nothing.
Selene stood.
She was inches from him now.
"If you want loyalty," she said, her voice low and firm, "earn it. Do not expect it."
She brushed past him without another word and disappeared into her bedchamber.
The next morning, she received another message.
This one different.
More dangerous.
It arrived wrapped in plain cloth.
Inside, folded neatly, was a single sheet of paper.
And a ring.
A man's ring.
Inscribed with a crest that had not been seen in Veredon for ten years.
The Black Flame still burns. You are not the only one with knives in this castle.
No name.
No seal.
Only the sigil of a house thought extinct.
Selene stared at it, her mind racing.
The Black Flame.
An ancient rebel order.
Erased by Cassian's purge after he seized the crown.
At least, they had thought it erased.
This was not politics.
This was something older.
Deeper.
Deadlier.
Selene stood in the center of her chamber, holding the ring in her hand.
She turned it over once.
Twice.
Then walked to her window and stared out across the city.
There were wolves behind every wall now.
But one of them had just stepped forward.
And spoken her name.
The game was no longer just power and courtly betrayal.
This was war.
And if the Black Flame had truly returned…
Then Selene Arlont Veredon would need more than silk and secrets.
She would need to become the fire herself.