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The palace halls were silent — too silent.
Not the peaceful kind, but the kind that made your heart beat like footsteps in your ears.
Every corridor I passed was crawling with guards.
Every door sealed. Every screen blinked with one word that chilled me to the bone:
> LOCKDOWN — AUTHORIZED BY BLACKWOOD 1.
I wrapped my night robe tighter, still barefoot from when I'd chased him downstairs.
The marble was cold. The air heavier than smoke.
He'd done it. He'd locked down the entire empire.
For what?
Because of anger? Because I defied him?
Or because something deeper was cracking beneath that iron skin of his?
Mara found me near the council corridor.
Her face was pale, eyes red-rimmed.
"My Queen," she whispered, "you shouldn't be here. He gave direct orders—"
"I don't care," I cut in, my voice trembling with fury. "I won't let him destroy everything we built just to prove he's still in control."
She looked around nervously. "Soren's keeping the troops calm. But the palace staff—half of them are terrified. He's—"
"I know," I said softly. "I saw it in his eyes."
The image still burned in my head — Chris standing in the control hall, chest heaving, eyes wild, breaking screens, barking orders like a man possessed.
That wasn't my husband.
That was the King of Iron, not the man who held my hand and called me my star.
Mara stepped closer, whispering, "We could deactivate the lockdown from the east command deck. If I override—"
"No," I interrupted. "If we do it behind his back, he'll see it as betrayal. He'll break again."
I turned to her, forcing a faint, tired smile.
"He doesn't need rebellion right now. He needs me."
"But how will you reach him?" she asked, desperate. "He's got guards at every sector."
"I won't go as a Queen," I said, straightening my robe. "I'll go as Amara — the woman who loved him before the crown."
Her eyes widened. "That's suicide."
"Maybe," I said, already walking toward the north passage. "But love is the only weapon left that still scares him."
We turned a corner and nearly bumped into Soren.
He stood tall, arms folded, face unreadable.
"My Queen," he said sharply, "you're not authorized to—"
"I know," I said, cutting him off. "But I'm going in anyway."
He stared at me for a long second, then exhaled through his nose.
"Then at least take someone with you."
"No. If I come with guards, he'll see it as confrontation."
I started walking past him — but his hand caught my wrist.
Not rough, just enough to make me stop.
"Then promise me one thing," he said quietly. "If he breaks again… you run."
I met his eyes.
"If he breaks again," I whispered, "I'll remind him who he used to be."
And before he could stop me, I slipped into the corridor leading to the West Wing — the forbidden wing during lockdown — where the King was last seen.
My heartbeat matched the alarm pulse still echoing faintly through the walls.
One step.
Another.
The Queen walking straight into the storm her King created.
But love wasn't about peace.
Sometimes… love meant walking into fire — and praying it remembered your name.
— To be continued…