📍 Chapter 57 – The Visitor's Game
Zara sat with her spine straight and her hands clasped in her lap, just beside Zaire's chair. The council hall had never felt colder.
Kalren sat directly across from them, relaxed in a way that didn't match the tension hanging in the air. One ankle rested over his knee, and his fingers tapped softly on the armrest. His companion—Leva—stood behind him like a ghost, her face still lowered, unmoving.
No one spoke at first.
It wasn't silence. It was pressure.
Zaire broke it. "You came unarmed, as agreed."
Kalren gave a slow smile. "So did you. Or do you always hide your knives this well now?"
Zara's gaze didn't flicker, but her hand was near the blade hidden beneath her gown. She didn't trust him. Not one bit.
"I called you here to speak," Zaire said. "So speak."
Kalren leaned forward. "Then allow me to be plain. This throne is not yours."
The words rang out in the chamber like a challenge tossed to the floor.
Zaire didn't flinch. "It is, by birth and law."
Kalren's eyes darkened slightly. "The law you quote was rewritten by the very hands that feared mine. They erased my father's legacy. They forged papers. Lied to the nobles. And when I demanded answers, they buried me in smoke and blood."
Zara could feel the fury beneath his words—not the kind that exploded, but the kind that waited. Calculated. Poisoned slowly.
"You vanished during the rebellion," Zaire said. "You could have returned. You could have stood in the court and spoken your claim."
"I wasn't given the chance!" Kalren snapped. "I was hunted. Marked. Every messenger I sent never returned. I watched my friends executed. I slept in caves while the crown wore your name."
Zaire's jaw tightened. "You chose war over truth."
"And you chose cowardice over justice," Kalren said, calmer now. "But I am not here to drag the past through the halls. I came to give you a chance."
Zara narrowed her eyes. "A chance?"
Kalren's smile returned. "Step down. Quietly. Announce your retirement due to poor health. Let the people mourn you as a hero. I'll promise peace. Mercy. Even honor your memory."
Zaire didn't even blink. "You're delusional."
"Then you're a fool."
They stared at each other across the table like two kings divided by a battlefield made of stone and silence.
Zara finally spoke.
"You say you want peace," she said. "But you walked into this room with ultimatums and threats. That isn't peace. That's a coup dressed in velvet."
Kalren turned his eyes to her for the first time.
Zara felt it like a chill down her back.
"And you must be the famous wife," he said. "The one they whisper about. The girl who appeared from nowhere and sits where queens have burned."
Zara kept her expression cold. "You didn't answer my point."
"I don't need to," he said. "You'll see soon enough. Zaire will fall—not because of my sword, but because of his pride. You'll either stand beside me… or disappear with him."
Leva stirred behind him. Not a word—just a shift of weight. Subtle. Alert.
Zaire's voice dropped low. "This meeting is over."
Kalren stood. "For now."
He turned and began walking back toward the doors, Leva close behind him.
But then—he paused.
He glanced over his shoulder. "One more thing."
Zaire raised his chin.
"If anything happens to me before I leave this palace, five cities will burn by morning. Don't test my reach."
And with that, he left.
---
The moment the doors shut, the room seemed to exhale.
Zaire stood quickly, pacing a tight circle. His boots echoed hard against the stone floor.
Zara remained seated, trying to process everything.
"He's not bluffing," she said.
Zaire stopped. "I know."
"He has allies. Probably inside the palace."
Zaire's eyes met hers. "Then we find them. Fast."
She stood too. "What about Leva?"
"She's more than she seems," Zaire said. "She never made eye contact. Never spoke. But she watches like a weapon. I'll have her background checked."
Zara hesitated. "What if she's the real threat?"
Zaire paused. "You think she's the one Kalren is hiding behind?"
"I think," Zara said carefully, "that Kalren talks like a king, but he walks like a man who doesn't believe he'll win. Leva—she walks like someone who knows she already has."
Zaire nodded once, slowly.
"I'll arrange surveillance on her chamber. Quietly. If they're communicating with anyone in the palace, we'll intercept it."
Zara moved toward the window, looking out over the west wall. "Three nights. That's all we have."
Zaire joined her. "Three nights to choose who will rule the ashes if this fails."
Zara turned to him. "Or to make sure there are no ashes at all."
---
Later that night, Zara returned to her room to find a folded scrap of paper on her pillow.
There was no seal.
No signature.
Just six words.
**He's not the one to fear.**
Her blood ran cold.
She scanned the room. No signs of forced entry. Nothing disturbed. The guards outside hadn't reported movement.
But someone had been inside.
Someone who knew her schedule. Her habits. Her vulnerabilities.
She took the note straight to Zaire.
He read it once, then burned it over the flame of a single candle.
"This confirms it," he said. "There's someone watching us. Close enough to slip into your chamber without alerting the guards."
Zara's hands clenched. "You think it's Leva?"
"I think…" Zaire paused. "Kalren might be a distraction. Someone else may be orchestrating this from deeper in the palace."
Zara's chest tightened. "Then who do we trust?"
Zaire looked her straight in the eye.
"Only each other."