The door opened slowly.
Naira did not turn around.
She could feel him before she saw him.
The air in the room shifted—
as if something sharp and dangerous had entered.
Heavy footsteps echoed against the marble floor, deliberate and unhurried. Whoever stood behind her carried authority so natural it didn't need words.
"Turn around, Queen Elmyra."
The voice was cold.
Not loud.
Not angry.
But sharp enough to cut.
Naira swallowed and faced him.
Crown Prince Kael stood a few steps away.
He was taller than she had imagined, dressed in black military attire edged with silver. His dark hair fell loosely over his forehead, his expression carved from stone. But it was his eyes that froze her in place—deep, piercing, and filled with something far more dangerous than anger.
Hatred.
"So," he said quietly, his gaze scanning her face,
"you finally decided to wake up."
Naira straightened her back.
"Is that how a prince greets his queen?" she asked calmly.
Kael's lips curved—not into a smile, but something sharper.
"The queen I know," he replied,
"doesn't hide behind politeness."
He took a step closer.
Her instincts screamed at her to retreat.
She didn't.
"What do you want, Prince Kael?" she asked.
Silence stretched between them.
Then Kael spoke again, his tone dangerously soft.
"Yesterday, you screamed in your sleep."
Naira's heart skipped.
"You never scream," he continued.
"You don't fear nightmares. You create them."
His eyes narrowed.
"So tell me," he said,
"who are you?"
The question struck harder than a slap.
Naira forced herself to remain still.
"I am Queen Elmyra," she said evenly.
Kael laughed once—short and humorless.
"No," he said.
"You were Queen Elmyra."
He circled her slowly, like a predator studying prey.
"The woman standing before me today," he continued,
"didn't threaten the maid. Didn't order a punishment. Didn't even insult me."
He stopped in front of her.
"You looked afraid."
Naira met his gaze.
"And what if I was?"
Kael's expression darkened.
"Fear doesn't suit you," he said.
"It never has."
She remembered the novel.
Queen Elmyra was cruel, arrogant, merciless.
Fearless—even when she faced death.
Naira took a slow breath.
"People change," she said.
"Even monsters."
Kael's hand shot out.
He grabbed her wrist.
Not violently—but firmly enough that she couldn't pull away.
Her skin burned where he touched her.
"You don't get to pretend innocence," he said coldly.
"Not after what you've done."
"What I've done?" Naira repeated.
Kael's grip tightened.
"My mother is dead," he said.
"And every path leads back to you."
The words hit her like ice.
The Queen killed the Queen Mother—
that was the rumor.
But the truth was unclear.
"I didn't kill her," Naira said.
Kael leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper.
"Liar."
Something stirred inside her chest.
A pressure.
A heat.
The bracelet on her wrist pulsed.
Kael froze.
His eyes flicked to the crimson gem glowing faintly beneath his fingers.
"Magic?" he muttered.
Naira felt it too—
dark, restless, responding to his touch.
She yanked her hand free.
"You should leave," she said, her voice steady despite the storm inside her.
"Before you accuse me of something you can't prove."
Kael stared at her for a long moment.
Then he straightened.
"Oh, I'm not here to prove anything," he said.
"I'm here to warn you."
He turned toward the door.
"The court meets tonight," he continued.
"Your execution date will be finalized."
Naira's blood ran cold.
Kael paused at the doorway.
"And Queen Elmyra," he added without looking back,
"if you truly are a different person now—"
He glanced over his shoulder.
"Then you're already too late."
The door closed behind him.
Silence crashed down.
Naira's knees weakened.
She sank onto the edge of the bed, her breathing shallow.
Execution date… finalized.
So it had begun.
Thirty days were no longer a distant memory.
They were real.
She looked at her wrist.
The bracelet had stopped glowing—but the warmth remained.
"What are you?" she whispered.
The black book on the table trembled.
Then—
It opened on its own.
Dark letters bled across the page.
"The prince suspects you."
"The curse responds to danger."
"Choose carefully who you let close."
Naira's fingers shook as she read.
"So you are real," she murmured.
A whisper answered her—low and amused.
"I have always been real, my queen."
Her heart pounded.
"What do you want from me?" she asked.
The pages turned again.
"Survive."
"Uncover the truth."
"And decide—"
The ink paused.
Then finished the sentence.
"Will you rule this kingdom… or burn it?"
A knock sounded at the door.
Sharp. Urgent.
"Your Majesty," a voice whispered from outside,
"the High Priest has arrived."
Naira looked at the book.
At the bracelet.
At the door.
Every instinct warned her—
This was another trap.
She stood up.
Her fear was still there.
But beneath it—
Something darker was waking.
"Tell him," she said calmly,
"that Queen Elmyra will see him."
The book snapped shut.
The whisper laughed softly.
"Good."
The candles in the room flickered.
And for the first time—
Naira smiled.