Isabella's POV
I didn't sleep that night.
I watched the city burn instead
Not with fire, but with rumor.
The Black Crest had returned.
The Queen had struck first.
The court was bleeding.
And the heir the child they once dismissed as cursed was alive and protected.
The kingdom was trembling. And for the first time… I wanted it to.
Because fear was fertile soil.
And from it, I would grow something ruthless.
At dawn, I met with the Northern Warden's envoy.
A woman in iron-gray armor and a blood-red cloak. Her name was Commander Virell.
She didn't kneel.
"I come not to serve," she said. "But to witness if the queen bleeds like the rest of us."
I stepped down from the dais and slit my palm open right in front of her. The blood dripped onto the marble floor, vivid and slow.
"You see it?" I asked. "I bleed. But I never bow."
She stared. Then offered her own hand scarred, calloused.
We clasped wrists.
An alliance forged not in ink… but in shared defiance.
The meeting that followed was short, brutal, and necessary.
Virell had tracked a Black Crest stronghold in the southern cliffs.
A place where nobles vanished and assassins were made.
I didn't hesitate.
"We ride at nightfall."
Dominic frowned. "You want to ride into enemy territory?"
"No," I said. "I want to remind them what happens when they mistake me for their prey."
That night, I left the palace in riding leathers instead of gowns.
No crown. No court.
Just rage. And Dominic at my side.
It was only a few hours' ride to the cliffs. The air turned colder. The sky grew sharp with stars. The closer we got, the quieter it became.
Too quiet.
Dominic signaled to halt.
"We're being watched."
I dismounted, drawing twin daggers from my belt. "Let them."
From the shadows, figures emerged hooded, armored, blades drawn.
Black Crest.
"Your Majesty," one of them mocked. "We weren't expecting royalty to come crawling to us."
"I didn't crawl," I said.
And then I threw a dagger straight into his throat.
The fight was chaos.
Steel on steel.
Grunts. Screams. Flame.
But we didn't just fight we sent a message.
For every blow they landed, we carved our mark into the stone.
By dawn, the hideout was ashes and corpses.
I stood on the cliffside, breath ragged, watching the sun rise over the blood-stained rocks.
Dominic stepped beside me.
"You could've sent your army."
"I am the army," I said.
He smiled, eyes dark and full of something that always looked like pride and hunger braided together.
"I know."
Back at the palace, the ravens flew again.
But this time, the message was simple.
"To all loyal houses: Choose now. The Queen no longer plays. She rules."