With Lila's help Selene dressed up for dinner with the King.
She was once again escorted by the same young guard from that morning. He walked a step behind her, maintaining a respectful distance, but there was an air of ease about him. Unlike the other guards, who remained silent and stiff, this one had been unexpectedly warm.
"You seem different from the rest," she noted, glancing at him as they made their way to the King's private dining hall.
He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Is that a good thing or a bad thing, Your Majesty?"
She tilted her head, considering. "I suppose I'll have to decide."
He grinned. "Well, if it helps, my name is Oliver. If you're going to judge me, at least know my name."
Selene hummed in amusement. "Very well, Oliver. I'll remember that."
With that, the heavy doors to the dining hall were pulled open, and Selene stepped inside.
She had expected to find Ronan waiting for her alone. Instead, a small girl sat in her chair, swinging her legs under the table. A fresh bandage was wrapped around her head, and her wide brown eyes, filled with innocence, locked onto Selene the moment she entered. She was the same little orphaned girl Ronan had brought back with him.
Selene raised an eyebrow. "You're sitting in my chair, little one."
The girl blinked up at her before glancing at Ronan for reassurance.
"She insists on having dinner with us," Ronan said, his tone light, as if daring Selene to protest.
Selene exhaled, lowering herself to the child's level. "I see. And what's your name, little one?"
"Hannah," the girl said shyly, her voice barely above a whisper.
Something inside Selene almost softened. Almost.
Hannah suddenly slid off the chair and scurried toward Ronan, wrapping her small arms around his side. Without hesitation, he lifted her onto his lap, his expression uncharacteristically gentle as he plucked a grape from the bowl and popped it into her mouth. The little girl giggled, chewing happily.
Selene observed the scene with a faint, unreadable smile before gracefully taking her own seat.
"I had hoped I would be the first to give you a child," she mused, pouring herself a glass of wine. "But it seems you've already found one."
Ronan smirked, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "Nothing is stopping us from working on one tonight."
Selene didn't flinch. Instead, she met his gaze with a cool, unreadable expression, then took a slow, deliberate bite of her food.
"I can't wait," she said smoothly.
Ronan let out a low chuckle, watching her closely.
Hannah, oblivious to the exchange, continued munching on her fruit, happily unaware of the tension simmering between the two adults at the table.
The heavy doors of the dining hall swung open again, and Travis stepped inside. His usually calm demeanor was slightly strained, his eyes flickering between Ronan and Selene before settling on Ronan.
Ronan sighed dramatically, leaning back in his chair. "Travis, if you've come to interrupt another meal with my wife, I might start thinking you have a personal vendetta against us eating together."
Selene smirked, dabbing the corner of her lips with a napkin.
Travis bowed his head in apology. "Forgive me, Your Majesty. But it's urgent. One of the men responsible for the destruction in the village earlier has been caught. He's in the throne room now. The council members are already gathered, awaiting your judgment."
The air in the room shifted. The playful ease in Ronan's expression darkened in an instant. He let out a low hum, setting his goblet down with a soft clink against the table.
"Interesting," he murmured, his fingers drumming against the armrest. "I was just wondering how to end my evening. And here, fate delivers me a perfect solution."
Hannah, sensing the change in atmosphere, pressed herself against Ronan's chest, gripping the fabric of his tunic.
Selene glanced at him, reading the dangerous glint in his eyes. "I assume you want to handle this personally?"
Ronan smirked, brushing a hand over Hannah's dark curls before gently lifting her off his lap and placing her on the chair beside him. "Of course."
He stood, rolling his shoulders before shooting Travis a sharp look. "Lead the way."
Selene, wiping her hands clean, gracefully rose to her feet. "I think I'll come along."
Ronan raised an eyebrow. "Afraid you'll miss the fun?"
Selene gave him an unreadable smile. "I wouldn't want to let you have all the fun." Plus she needed to know who was responsible for the attack.
Ronan let out a low chuckle before turning to Hannah. "Be good, little one. I won't be long."
The child nodded sleepily, rubbing her eyes as a servant stepped forward to take her back to her room.
With that, Ronan, Selene, and Travis strode out of the dining hall, heading toward the throne room where judgment awaited.
******
The throne room was silent when Ronan entered, but the moment his boots hit the stone floor, a ripple of movement spread through the gathered nobles, council members, and castle servants. As one, they all bowed.
At the center of the room, kneeling in a pool of his own blood, was one of the men responsible for the chaos in the village. His face was swollen, cuts littered his skin, and his clothes were torn. Heavy chains wrapped around his wrists and ankles, forcing him to stay on his knees. But when he lifted his head and met Ronan's gaze, he smiled.
It was the kind of smile that sent a slow, burning fury through Ronan's veins.
"You look angry, Your Majesty," the man crooned, his voice rough yet filled with something almost playful. "Tell me… was it the burning homes? The screaming children? Or was it the fact that we got away with most of it?"
Ronan's fists clenched. "Most of it?"
The man chuckled, spitting blood onto the pristine floor. "Oh, this was just the beginning. Today, it was a village. But soon?" His grin widened, his teeth stained red. "We'll burn your entire kingdom down."
Gasps filled the room. The council members stiffened, hands clenching the arms of their chairs. A noblewoman pressed a hand to her mouth, while a few servants exchanged fearful glances.
Selene, standing beside Travis, narrowed her eyes. She knew madness when she saw it, and this man was a true fanatic.
Ronan stepped closer, his voice dropping to a lethal whisper. "You think I'll let you live after this?"
The man laughed, his voice rasping but full of amusement. "Oh, I know you will."
Ronan grabbed him by the throat, hauling him up just enough for his feet to drag against the floor. The chains rattled, but the man didn't flinch. He simply stared into Ronan's furious eyes with something close to delight.
"Killing me will do nothing but fuel my brother's hate," the prisoner sneered. "And believe me, he is the one you should be afraid of."
Silence weighed heavy in the room.
"This rebellion," Travis muttered, his expression darkening. "Your brother leads it?"
The prisoner grinned, blood trickling from his lips. "Yes. And he will come for you all."
Ronan's grip tightened. His every instinct demanding blood.
He let go, watching the man crumple to the floor, gasping for air. Without hesitation, He drew his sword Valerius, the blade slicing through the still air as he pressed it against the prisoner's throat.
But the council erupted at once.
"Your Majesty, wait—"
"We should keep him alive—"
"We need more information from him. There are… methods. Ways to make him say more."
"Torture him," one of the council men suggested, his voice like steel. "He may reveal the Rebellion's plans."
"Yes. Your majesty killing him now is of no advantage to us."
Ronan barely heard them. His entire being screamed for violence. His hand trembled with the urge to end it now. To silence this man and his threats with a single stroke of his blade. His grip on Valerius trembled—not with hesitation, but with the sheer force of holding himself back.
"Ronan," Travis, his most trusted friend and advisor stepped beside him. "I know what you're thinking. But killing him now accomplishes nothing. We need to find his brother. We need to know how large their numbers are, what their next move is."
Ronan clenched his teeth so hard his jaw ached. His instincts screamed at him to put an end to this, to wipe that smile off the bastard's face with cold steel. But before he could decide—
"The moment you let your enemy see another day, the more he grows stronger."
The hall fell silent.
Selene stepped forward, her expression unreadable, her voice calm but sharp. She locked eyes with Ronan, her next words cold.
"Kill him now, Ronan. Or you may live to regret it."
The prisoner grinned wider, but for the first time, a flicker of something—perhaps doubt, perhaps curiosity—crossed his face.
Selene didn't say it because she cared. She didn't say it to protect Ronan or his kingdom.
She said it because she had seen what happened when an enemy was given time to gather strength.
She had lived through it.
The prisoner simply laughed. "Smart Woman."
Ronan's grip tightened on Valerius. The choice was his.
The councilmen were not pleased with Selene's interruption. Their expressions twisted with disdain as they casted disapproving glances cast in Selene's direction.
They couldn't believe a woman had dared to speak.
One of the older councilmen, Lord Whitmore, turned toward her with a look of barely concealed irritation. "With all due respect, My Queen, this is men's business. Matters of war and strategy are not for a lady's concern."
Another council member, Lord Darnell, nodded. "Your input is neither needed nor wanted."
Selene arched a brow, her fingers tightening at her sides. She had expected resistance, but to be dismissed so outright? Fools.
"She is not just a lady," Ronan's voice cut through the noise, dangerous and sharp. "She is my queen."
Silence fell.
Selene kept her face impassive, but inside, irritation burned hotter. Ronan's defense wasn't what she wanted. She didn't need him to validate her presence—she needed him to listen.
And yet, he turned back to the prisoner, his jaw clenched. "He stays alive. For now."
Selene scoffed. She was terribly disappointment. Of course, he would listen to them.
Without another word, she lifted the hem of her gown, stepping away from the group. Her heels clicked against the marble floor as she walked toward the exit, her back straight despite the simmering humiliation in her chest.
They could all play their little games of power.
But when this decision came back to haunt them she would not say she hadn't warned them.