The morning Aerin decided to divorce Valessara, he did not feel rage.
He did not feel fear.
He did not even feel anger.
He felt clarity.
It was terrifyingly calm.
The Decision
He stood in the solar chamber at dawn, light spilling across marble floors. Mira stood beside him, composed as ever. Elira paced like a contained thunderstorm.
"You don't have to do this publicly," Mira said gently.
"Yes, he does," Elira muttered. "Public humiliation builds character."
Aerin smiled faintly.
"This isn't humiliation," he said quietly. "It's correction."
He had spent months reacting to her moves. Scandals. Border tensions. Forgery. Assassination attempts wrapped in plausible deniability.
But he finally understood something fundamental:
Valessara did not love him.
She loved power.
And he was the bridge.
That bridge would close today.
The Announcement
The Grand Hall filled faster than expected.
Rumors had already begun.
When Aerin entered, the room quieted instantly.
Valessara stood near the throne, radiant in silver. Calm. Unbothered.
She thought she knew what this was.
She didn't.
Aerin did not sit.
He stood in front of the assembly.
"For months," he began, voice steady, "this kingdom has endured instability born not from weakness — but from division."
Valessara's eyes sharpened slightly.
He continued.
"Division within this court. Within this marriage."
Murmurs rippled.
Valessara's posture stiffened just slightly.
"A marriage," Aerin said, "is meant to strengthen the crown."
He looked at her directly.
"Ours has weakened it."
The silence that followed was suffocating.
Valessara's smile did not return.
"Be careful," she said quietly.
"I am," he replied.
He stepped forward.
"I hereby dissolve my marriage to Queen Valessara of Thryndel."
Gasps exploded through the hall.
Several nobles stood. Others shouted.
"You can't!"
"Political suicide!"
"This invites war!"
Valessara did not move.
Her eyes burned into him.
"You would humiliate Thryndel publicly?" she asked softly.
"No," Aerin said. "I am separating Aqura from manipulation."
The word struck.
Manipulation.
Her mask cracked.
Just for a second.
Valessara's Threat
She stepped forward slowly.
"If you do this," she said quietly enough only the front rows heard, "you lose my protection."
"I never had it," he replied.
Her voice lowered.
"You will regret this."
"Perhaps," he said calmly. "But I will regret staying more."
Silence.
Then—
Valessara straightened.
"You are naïve," she declared to the room. "A boy playing king."
Aerin met her gaze.
"Then I will learn quickly."
He turned to the council.
"The dissolution is immediate."
It was done.
The crown bond severed.
The Shift in the Air
Valessara did not scream.
She did not storm out.
She bowed.
Gracefully.
"Very well," she said.
But her eyes promised something darker.
As she exited the hall, Mira exhaled slowly.
"That was necessary," she said.
Elira tilted her head.
"…Why do I feel like we just started something worse?"
Because they had.
The Plan to Kill a King
Valessara did not mourn the marriage.
She calculated.
In her private chamber, she met with a cloaked figure.
"You were right," the man said. "He grows."
She nodded once.
"He must not grow further."
"And if he refuses reconciliation?"
Valessara's eyes were cold.
"Then he does not live long enough to regret it."
The decision was clean.
No politics.
No scandal.
No framing.
Direct removal.
If she could not rule beside him, she would rule over the ashes.
Mira Returns to the Center
That evening, Mira found Aerin alone.
"You did something dangerous today," she said quietly.
"I know."
"You embarrassed Thryndel."
"I know."
"You freed yourself."
He looked at her.
"Yes."
For the first time in months, Mira stepped closer — not as political balance, not as calm advisor — but as woman.
"You were brave," she said softly.
He laughed quietly.
"I was terrified."
"Bravery often is."
Their eyes held for a moment too long.
Elira appeared in the doorway.
"I approve," she announced.
Mira blinked.
"Of what?"
"Elongated eye contact," Elira said. "It indicates emotional progression."
Aerin groaned.
Elira's Past Resurfaces
Later that night, something shifted.
Elira woke suddenly.
Cold.
A presence.
Not external.
Internal.
The old instincts had not disappeared.
They had been waiting.
And now they stirred.
A guard rotation changed unexpectedly.
A shadow moved across a rooftop.
Elira's pulse sharpened.
This wasn't random.
This was professional.
She moved silently through corridors.
No noise.
No hesitation.
And she saw him.
A figure on the balcony outside Aerin's chamber.
Crossbow drawn.
Elira didn't shout.
She didn't hesitate.
She lunged.
They crashed through the balcony doors.
The bolt fired.
It missed Aerin by inches.
Steel flashed.
The assassin was skilled.
Not sloppy.
Not emotional.
Precise.
Elira felt something old ignite inside her.
This wasn't restraint.
This was her territory.
They clashed brutally.
Knife to blade.
Breath to breath.
Aerin shouted for guards.
The assassin nearly broke free.
Elira's eyes darkened.
Her movements sharpened.
Faster.
Deadlier.
She disarmed him in seconds.
Blade at his throat.
The old voice whispered:
Finish it.
She pressed the blade closer.
The assassin smirked.
"You were better before," he taunted.
That did it.
Her hand trembled.
Aerin stepped forward.
"Elira."
Just her name.
She froze.
The choice again.
She exhaled slowly.
And knocked the assassin unconscious instead.
Guards stormed in.
The Truth Revealed
Under interrogation, the assassin revealed little.
Except one thing.
Payment traced to Thryndel.
Indirect.
Layered.
But unmistakable.
Valessara's reach.
Aerin sat heavily in his chamber.
"She's not retreating," he said quietly.
Mira nodded.
"She's escalating."
Elira sat opposite him.
Silent.
Shaking.
"You were different tonight," Aerin said gently.
She didn't respond.
"I saw it."
Her voice came out low.
"I was… efficient."
"Yes."
"I liked it."
Silence.
That was the dangerous part.
Mira stepped closer.
"You did not kill him."
Elira swallowed.
"I wanted to."
"But you didn't," Mira said firmly.
Elira looked at her.
"Am I always going to fight myself?"
"Yes," Mira answered honestly.
"But now you're choosing."
Valessara's Final Realization
In her chamber, news reached Valessara.
"The attempt failed."
She closed her eyes briefly.
"He lives?"
"Yes."
"And the assassin?"
"Captured."
A slow exhale.
She had underestimated something.
Not Aerin.
Not the guards.
Elira.
She whispered to herself:
"She is not unstable."
She is controlled chaos.
And that is harder to break.
Valessara's jaw tightened.
Then her expression hardened.
"Prepare phase two."
The King Who No Longer Hesitates
At dawn, Aerin stood before the council again.
"There was an attempt on my life," he said clearly.
Gasps filled the hall.
He did not hide it.
He did not soften it.
"Evidence traces to Thryndel intermediaries."
All eyes turned toward the empty place Valessara once stood.
"We will not declare war," he continued.
Murmurs of confusion.
"We will declare independence."
Silence.
"Aqura severs all political dependency on Thryndel."
Shock rippled through the room.
This wasn't reaction.
This was sovereignty.
He had divorced not just a queen.
But a shadow.
Closing
That night, the palace felt different.
Lighter.
But more dangerous.
Mira stood beside Aerin on the balcony.
"You're not the same man," she said softly.
"No," he replied.
Below them, Elira stood guard voluntarily.
Not pacing.
Not trembling.
Just watching.
Her past had resurfaced.
But it had not consumed her.
Yet.
And somewhere in the darkness beyond Aqura's walls, Valessara watched the kingdom she almost ruled — and began planning something far worse than assassination.
Because killing a king is simple.
Breaking him is art.