**Chapter Thirty: Secrets in the Tower**
"Because I knew what was coming," Maldrin said, voice cold. "And I didn't want to die for loyalty that meant nothing."
I stared at him, trying to steady my breath. My fingers were cold beneath my cloak. The scarred woman beside him tilted her head, observing me as if she were memorizing every detail of my posture, my silence, my shadow.
"So what is this?" I asked, my voice low. "Another test? Another trap?"
The third man—the one who had first appeared in the library weeks ago—stepped forward. "It's a choice. We don't want to kill you, Zara. We want to *use* you."
"Use me?"
"You have access. You have power. Not yet, maybe. But you will. The Queen Mother underestimates you. The nobles mock you. But you're the one piece no one expects to move. That makes you valuable."
I looked at Maldrin. "And you're helping them?"
He nodded, something unreadable in his eyes. "I lost a brother in the last purge. These people? They want to burn the whole court down and build something better. I'd rather risk that than rot waiting for change."
The scarred woman finally spoke. Her voice was smooth, sharp. "You can walk away now. We'll pretend this meeting never happened. Or... you can stay. Learn. Grow. Become more than a frightened bride they forced into marriage."
My hand twitched under the cloak. My mind raced.
I thought of Lorenzo. Of his warmth, his rage, his touch. Of how he'd defended me, left to protect me—but also left me vulnerable.
And then I thought of the Queen Mother.
Of her laughter.
Of her threats.
Of the blood on her hands.
"If I stay," I said slowly, "what do you want from me?"
The woman exchanged a glance with the others. "Loyalty. Secrecy. And patience. You will be given tasks. Small ones, at first. Messages. Distractions. We want to know what the Queen Mother fears. We want her unmasked."
"And when the time comes?"
"You'll help us destroy her."
A silence stretched between us, long and tight like a pulled string.
Then I nodded. Just once.
"Good," said the woman. She reached into her sleeve and handed me a folded square of black silk. "Burn this tonight. If you're with us, place the ashes in the fountain by dawn."
I took it. My fingers didn't shake.
They let me go.
* * *
The climb down the tower felt colder.
Elira was waiting in the dark hall outside my room. She didn't ask anything—just pulled me into a hug. And in that moment, the tension cracked.
I cried. Not loud. Just a silent, aching release.
"They want me to join them," I whispered. "I said yes."
Elira didn't pull away. "Then we make sure your yes becomes a weapon. Not a chain."
* * *
By dawn, the ashes were in the fountain.
And the revolution began.
But the revolution wasn't loud, not yet.
It started with whispers.
With subtle shifts in the kitchen corridors.
With guards distracted longer than usual, notes exchanged beneath plates, candles left flickering in patterns.
Elira became my shadow, and I became theirs.
Each day I dressed like the obedient bride. I smiled at the Queen Mother, let her braid my hair with poison and silk. I learned the steps of her cruelty, the soft ways she turned men into tools. And every night, I wrote what I saw. Everything.
The Thorn Circle—they didn't just want gossip. They wanted details:
Who arrived at court and who left?
Which ministers looked uneasy at banquets?
Which noble daughters whispered behind gloved hands?
And I gave it to them.
But I didn't give them everything.
Because while they thought they were using me...
I was building something of my own.
A third path. A quiet resistance.
One that didn't serve thrones or rebels—only freedom.
* * *
Weeks passed. No sign of Lorenzo. No letters. Just rumors—a battle in the east, a border crisis, an assassination attempt.
I stopped asking. Asking hurt too much.
But I kept going.
Because every piece I moved now... was for the day I would no longer have to play.
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