The letters were sent at dawn.
Selene stood at the balcony, watching the messengers vanish through the gates below.
The sky was still gray.
Rainclouds loomed but did not fall.
A stillness, unnatural and sharp, hung in the air like the moment before a scream.
She closed her eyes.
She had started the game.
But games in Veredon did not end with winners.
Only survivors.
By midday, the courtiers began to stir.
News had arrived from the eastern provinces.
A caravan ambushed.
Two guards killed.
The crest of House Aerenth scorched into the wood of the destroyed wagons.
Selene watched the court react in real-time.
The whispers.
The fear.
The sudden, forced laughter at things that were not funny.
Cassian called an emergency council by sunset.
Selene was already waiting in the chamber when he arrived.
She had not spoken to him since their last exchange on the balcony.
She had not needed to.
Because now, the game had changed.
Cassian's gaze found hers the moment he entered.
There was something different in his eyes.
A flicker of recognition.
Of awareness.
As if he had finally begun to understand who exactly he had married.
The council meeting began with fire.
"The rebellion is not dead!" the Duke of Marvane shouted, slamming his hand against the marble table. "You promised us they were finished!"
Cassian did not raise his voice.
He didn't need to.
"The Black Flame has no army," he said. "Only symbols and fear."
Lady Virenia leaned forward.
"And fear," she said softly, "burns cities as well as steel."
Selene stayed silent, watching each speaker with careful, detached grace.
She had not told Cassian what she knew.
Not yet.
She needed to see who would stand.
And who would break.
When the council dispersed, Selene remained seated.
Cassian lingered too.
They were alone for the first time in days.
He spoke first.
"I know you're withholding something."
Selene looked up slowly.
"Then why haven't you demanded it?"
"Because I'm not sure if I want to hear it."
Selene stood.
She moved around the table to him, slow and deliberate.
"The Black Flame has infiltrated your palace, Cassian," she said. "They've been here for years."
His jaw tightened.
"Do you have proof?"
Selene opened the inner pocket of her cloak and pulled out the scroll.
She handed it to him.
He didn't take it.
"How long have you known?"
"Six nights."
"And you didn't tell me."
"No."
"Why?"
"Because I needed to be sure you weren't part of it."
That hit harder than anything she'd ever said.
Cassian looked away.
She didn't regret it.
Not really.
Because now they were even.
That night, Selene returned to her quarters and dismissed her handmaidens early.
She needed space.
Silence.
Time.
She unrolled the map of the palace again, now annotated with her own markings.
Names.
Movements.
Potential allies.
And at the edge, a symbol she had drawn herself.
A crown cracked in two.
The sound came just past midnight.
A knock.
Three times.
Soft, rhythmic.
A signal.
She crossed the room, drew the door open, and found the courier standing there.
Soaked with rain.
Eyes sharp.
He handed her a folded note.
Then vanished into the darkness.
Selene closed the door behind her and unfolded the message.
It was simple.
"Cassian will ride east at dawn. The attack will strike by dusk. Decide."
No signature.
None was needed.
She read it again.
And again.
Then sat at her desk, staring at the ink as if it might disappear.
Cassian would ride into an ambush.
And she could stop it.
Or let him fall.
She sat in silence for nearly an hour.
Then she pulled out a clean sheet of parchment and began to write.
By morning, the palace was alive with movement.
Cassian's retinue gathered in the outer courtyard.
Horses were prepared.
Armor loaded into carriages.
Maps packed and tied in oilskin scrolls.
Selene stood at the edge of the colonnade, her cloak wrapped tight against the wind.
Cassian approached her in full riding gear, his hair damp from the mist.
"You're not going to stop me," he said.
It wasn't a question.
Selene shook her head.
"You wouldn't listen."
He paused.
"Is there something I should know?"
A thousand thoughts passed through her.
The letter.
The warning.
The blood she could prevent.
But all she said was,
"Be careful."
Cassian's eyes searched hers for something.
Then he nodded once, turned, and rode out of the gates with his men.
Selene watched them go until the banners vanished over the hill.
Then she returned to her chambers.
And began to prepare for war.
The next twelve hours unfolded in stillness.
Selene remained near the throne room, answering questions, performing duties, smiling when expected.
All the while, her mind spiraled.
Had she done the right thing?
Had she made a mistake?
Had she committed treason?
Had she saved herself?
Or lost everything?
The first rider returned just before nightfall.
Bloody.
Breathless.
The palace erupted in panic.
Selene forced herself to walk, not run, down the stairs to the main hall.
The captain met her near the southern corridor.
"Your Majesty," he gasped. "The King"
Selene froze.
"What?"
"He lives. They attacked, ambush, just as predicted, but he cut them down."
Her knees almost buckled.
She exhaled slowly.
"And the traitors?"
"Some dead. Some taken. He's bringing one back."
"Alive?"
The captain nodded.
"Yes. But barely."
Selene turned away, heart thundering.
She had not warned him.
And still, he had survived.
Of course he had.
Cassian was not the kind of king who died in someone else's plan.
He killed his way out.
That night, long after the palace quieted, Cassian returned.
Selene was waiting in the war chamber.
She did not rise when he entered.
He looked like a storm.
Blood smeared across his armor.
A gash above his eye.
His gloves stained red.
He walked to her in silence.
Then dropped a sealed letter on the table between them.
Selene stared at it.
Recognized the wax immediately.
Her seal.
Her letter.
The one she had sent through her loyal courier, not to the Black Flame, but to Cassian's own general.
Cassian stepped back, his voice quiet and cold.
"You didn't warn me. Not directly."
Selene kept her face still.
"No."
"You warned my second-in-command."
"Yes."
"Why?"
Selene met his eyes.
"Because if you died out there, I needed proof I tried to stop it."
Cassian stared at her.
And then, for the first time in weeks…
He laughed.
Soft. Broken. Bitter.
"Gods, Selene. You're more dangerous than all of them combined."
She stood slowly.
"I am what you made me."
They stood in silence.
Two people who no longer knew where loyalty ended and survival began.
Selene turned first.
She walked toward the doors, her cloak billowing behind her.
At the threshold, she paused.
And without looking back, she said:
"You're welcome."
Then she disappeared into the shadows.
And Cassian, king of Veredon, stood alone at his own war table.
Finally beginning to understand:
He was not the only one holding a kingdom by the throat.