The kingdom believed it was winning.
That was the first mistake.
Aelira stood before the tall windows of the eastern tower, fingers resting lightly against the cold glass. Below her, the capital bustled with life—merchants shouting, guards patrolling, nobles arriving for the upcoming royal council.
Everything looked peaceful.
Too peaceful.
"They're moving faster than expected," Kael said from behind her.
She did not turn. "Of course they are."
The queen had always been impatient when she thought her enemy cornered.
Aelira's lips curved faintly.
"The council meeting tomorrow," Kael continued. "All major houses will be present. Including House Viremont."
The name lingered in the air like poison.
"They think they've lured me into a public mistake," Aelira said calmly. "A slip of power. A loss of control. Something they can condemn."
She finally turned to face him.
Dark eyes met darker ones.
"What they don't realize," she continued, "is that I've already decided who will fall."
Kael studied her in silence.
There was no hesitation in her voice. No anger. Just certainty.
Dangerous certainty.
⸻
The map room was lit by a single lantern.
Aelira traced her finger across parchment covered in markings—secret tunnels, noble estates, guard rotations. Information gathered over months. Paid for in favors, silence, and blood.
"House Viremont will accuse me first," she said. "They're desperate for the queen's favor."
Kael nodded. "They've planted witnesses."
"I know."
She smiled. "I planted mine first."
Kael exhaled softly. "You're enjoying this."
"No," Aelira replied. "I'm controlling it."
She placed a black marker on the council chamber.
"When the accusation comes, I'll remain silent."
Kael frowned. "That's risky."
"They expect me to defend myself," she said. "They expect emotion."
Her finger moved—slow, deliberate.
"What they won't expect… is evidence."
Kael's expression sharpened. "The ledgers?"
"The forged decrees. The illegal executions. The bribes paid in the queen's name."
Aelira looked up. "All verified. All sealed. All timed."
Kael chuckled under his breath. "You're going to burn the room."
"I'm going to let them light the fire," she corrected. "And then show everyone who handed them the torch."
⸻
Later that night, Aelira stood alone in the shadowed corridor beneath the palace.
The shadows responded instantly—stretching, bending, whispering.
She closed her eyes.
Tomorrow, they seemed to murmur.
"Yes," she whispered. "Tomorrow."
She felt it—the tightening of fate, the pull of inevitability.
This was no longer about survival.
This was about rewriting the balance of power.
Behind her, footsteps approached.
"You should rest," Kael said quietly.
She opened her eyes.
"Do you know what traps require, Kael?" she asked.
He raised a brow. "Patience?"
She stepped closer, close enough that he could feel the cold edge of her power.
"Confidence," she said softly. "And the certainty that the prey will walk in willingly."
His gaze darkened. "And if they don't?"
Aelira smiled—slow, dangerous, absolute.
"Then I'll drag them."
⸻
Above them, the palace slept.
Unaware that by dawn, the crown would begin to crack.
And once the trap closed—
No one would escape unscathed.