The morning sun barely touched the city walls when Lady Miranna entered the palace.
She was veiled in violet silk, her hair braided with gold pins, her face calm—like someone preparing for a coronation that hadn't yet been announced.
Servants whispered as she passed. "She walks like she already owns the throne."
And in a way, she believed she did.
King Darian sat in the eastern garden alone, feeding birds with one hand, holding the council's second petition in the other.
It was official now.
A vote had passed—barely. Enough to allow him to choose a second queen. It wasn't law… yet. But it was dangerous permission.
He had avoided Selene's eyes for days.
He knew she was watching, waiting—not scared, but ready. That made it worse.
Then he heard the soft sound of approaching footsteps. He didn't need to turn. He knew.
"Lady Miranna," he said flatly.
"My king," she purred, taking a slow seat beside him.
She didn't ask for permission. She didn't need to. Her perfume filled the space between them.
"I come not to beg," she said, "but to offer peace."
Darian raised an eyebrow. "Peace?"
"Your city is restless. Half the nobles feel ignored. The other half are waiting for your strength. Your queen has courage, yes… but she divides. I could unify."
He didn't answer.
She leaned closer. "I could give you the son you need."
That night, the wind howled through the palace. In the war chamber, Queen Selene stood over a table of reports—guards bribed, servants replaced, secret letters delivered.
Miranna's web had begun to tighten.
"She's making her move," Captain Lirael said, entering in armor. "She was seen speaking to three councilmen and the king in one day."
Selene nodded. "Let her."
"But—"
"She's not the threat," Selene said sharply. "She's the distraction. There's something deeper at play. Too many changes too fast. Too many people too quiet."
She circled a spot on the map—a noble house on the western edge of the capital.
"She's using her offer of marriage to cover her real plan."
Meanwhile, Princess Lyra, now four, was already learning the art of silence.
She sat in the library, reading a book about ancient queens who ruled without kings. When her governess asked why she liked those stories, she answered, "Because they didn't wait for permission."
Three days later, Queen Selene walked calmly into the throne room, where the king was seated with the full council.
She dropped a scroll onto the floor between them.
"What is this?" Darian asked.
"Proof that Lady Miranna has been forging noble seals and planning a quiet coup."
Gasps broke out.
Miranna stood, laughing coldly. "Lies. Made by a bitter woman whose womb betrayed the throne."
But Selene was already one step ahead. From the side doors, three guards entered—dragging in two minor nobles and a captured scribe.
The confessions were swift—and damning.
King Darian said nothing at first. His gaze moved from the scroll to his queen… then to Lady Miranna.
"You used me," he said.
Miranna lifted her chin. "I tried to save you."
But Darian's voice was harder now. "No. You tried to replace her."
He turned to Selene. "You win… again."
That night, in the quiet of her chamber, Selene whispered to her daughter:
"Power is not taken by noise, Lyra. It is taken by preparation."
Lyra looked up. "Will I need to be ready too?"
Selene kissed her forehead. "You already are."