Selene did not speak of the ring for two days.
She kept it hidden in the seam of her cloak, sewn behind a fold of black velvet.
Not even her closest attendants saw her touch it.
And still, it felt as though the ring burned through the fabric.
As if the symbol branded into the metal was trying to crawl beneath her skin.
The Black Flame.
A rebel house.
A name whispered only in fear, then silence.
Ten years ago, Cassian had crushed them.
At least, that was what the official histories claimed.
But histories were written by survivors.
Not by ghosts.
Selene spent those two days in full performance.
She hosted a breakfast for the younger noblewomen in the east gardens.
She attended a painting auction in the royal archives.
She even smiled in front of Cassian during a public council announcement,
a show of unity that was as brittle as glass under pressure.
But behind her eyes, her mind raced.
If the Black Flame still existed, then they had survived through the darkest years of Cassian's reign.
That meant discipline.
That meant power.
That meant they were not like the other rats scurrying through the palace halls.
They were something older.
And far more dangerous.
The third night, she returned to the Tower of Ravens.
Alone.
No cloak.
No guards.
No poison.
Only the ring, stitched into her glove.
And her heartbeat, steady like a drum.
She lit a single torch on the first floor and waited.
Not long.
A whisper echoed from the rafters.
"You came alone."
Selene didn't flinch.
"I wouldn't trust a meeting with ghosts to anyone else."
A figure dropped from the shadows above, landing soundlessly behind her.
The same man from before.
Or perhaps not the same.
This one moved differently.
Colder.
Sharper.
"You're bold, Queen," he said.
Selene turned to face him fully.
"No," she said. "I'm curious."
He stepped closer, the torchlight catching only the lower half of his face.
Scarred. Tired. Intelligent.
He wore no royal uniform.
No noble mark.
Only black leather and a silver ring that matched the one Selene carried.
"Then ask," he said.
Selene reached into her glove and drew out the ring.
Held it between her fingers.
"What do you want with me?" she asked.
The man's mouth curled slightly.
"You are not afraid."
"I am always afraid," Selene replied. "That's why I'm alive."
The man nodded, as if pleased.
Then he pulled a scroll from his coat and unrolled it on the old stone table between them.
Selene stepped forward.
What she saw made her blood run cold.
It was a map.
Not of the kingdom.
Not of Veredon.
A map of the palace.
Every hallway.
Every servant passage.
Every secret corridor buried beneath the walls.
Marked in red were twelve names.
Half were dead.
Half still alive.
And next to each, a single symbol:
either a flame…
or a crown.
Selene looked up slowly.
"This is a kill list."
The man didn't deny it.
"We have been watching for years," he said. "Waiting. Listening."
"For what?"
"For the moment the throne began to eat itself alive."
Selene's hands clenched at her sides.
"And what makes you think I'll help you?"
The man met her eyes.
"Because you're not his," he said. "And he is no longer yours."
For one terrible moment, Selene thought of Cassian in his war room.
Alone. Obsessed. Dangerous.
And right.
She hated that part most of all.
He had given her no reason to trust him.
But the idea of handing his kingdom to someone else…
That was something else entirely.
Selene leaned closer to the map.
"Why now?" she asked. "Why reveal yourselves?"
The man's voice dropped.
"Because the real threat is not just Cassian."
He reached into his coat again and dropped a second scroll beside the first.
Selene opened it.
And stopped breathing.
It was a copy of Cassian's military orders from three weeks ago,
a full dispatch to the northern border.
Dozens of regiments recalled.
Leaving the entire eastern front almost unguarded.
Selene looked up, heart hammering.
"This is real?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"We don't know yet."
The man's face tightened.
"But your king is preparing for something. And whatever it is, he isn't telling his own council."
Selene said nothing.
The fire snapped in the corner.
Wind howled against the stone walls.
The man leaned forward.
"You want to protect this kingdom," he said.
Selene met his gaze.
"Yes."
"Then help us stop him. Before it's too late."
Selene stepped back.
She did not respond.
She picked up the scroll, rolled it, and tucked it beneath her arm.
Then she turned and walked out of the tower without a word.
She returned to her chambers just before dawn.
The sky was still dark.
Rain had begun to fall.
She stood at the balcony overlooking the courtyard and stared at the palace roofs below.
The tower spires.
The fire-warmed windows.
The carved marble facades of a kingdom built on strategy and sin.
Cassian was hiding something.
And the Black Flame had just handed her a knife.
But what they didn't know…
was that Selene was already carving her own path through the dark.
That afternoon, she entered the council chamber unannounced.
Cassian looked up from his seat at the head of the table, surprised.
"Something urgent?" he asked.
Selene smiled and sat beside him.
"Not urgent," she said.
"But I believe I should be here."
The council exchanged glances.
Cassian's jaw shifted slightly.
But he didn't object.
He nodded once.
"Very well."
Selene said nothing for most of the session.
She listened.
Measured.
Filed away the Chancellor's hesitations.
The way the Duke of Marvane would not meet her eyes.
The way a new military advisor kept fidgeting with his sleeve, the same sleeve marked with the same embroidery she had seen on the scroll the night before.
A traitor.
Confirmed.
She didn't call him out.
Not yet.
Let him squirm.
Let him move.
The best trap was the one the prey built for itself.
After the council adjourned, Cassian pulled her aside.
They stood near the high balcony, where the sun finally pierced through the gray clouds.
He didn't touch her.
He didn't smile.
But his eyes searched hers.
"You're watching me," he said quietly.
Selene tilted her head.
"Would you prefer I look away?"
Cassian's mouth tightened.
"There are wars I fight so you don't have to."
Selene took a step forward.
"And there are wars I'm already in," she said, "because of you."
For a moment, something broke in his eyes.
A flicker of something close to guilt.
Then he looked away.
"I didn't want this for you."
Selene's voice was quiet.
"Then you should have chosen a different queen."
She left before he could answer.
And in her chamber that night, she unrolled both scrolls, the map, and the military orders.
Then she wrote two letters.
One to a noblewoman whose son had disappeared in the northern front.
The other to a Black Flame courier, whose trail she had followed through the kitchens.
She sealed both with wax and no crest.
And when she placed them in her cloak to be sent at dawn, she said nothing aloud.
But in her chest, a voice whispered.
The queen does not kneel to the fire. She becomes it.