Morning broke over the palace in a cold, merciless sweep of gray light.
Selene sat at the vanity of her assigned chamber, watching her reflection through a thin veil of steam rising from the washbasin.
The woman staring back at her was not a queen.
She was a weapon dressed in lace and pearls.
And today, she would be on display for every viper in Cassian's court to measure, dissect, and plot against.
Selene picked up the silver hair comb lying beside the basin.
Her fingers trembled for a moment barely.
A ghost of weakness she crushed before it could take root.
The blade hidden beneath her gown today was smaller, finer, crafted for concealment. She slipped it into her sleeve with practiced ease, feeling the cold weight against her wrist like a promise.
No matter how pretty they made her look, she would never forget who she truly was.
The grand doors of the royal court swung open at Cassian's command.
Selene walked three steps behind him, her gown a trailing cloud of ice-blue silk embroidered with silver thread an emblem of purity, loyalty, and silent obedience.
A lie stitched into every fiber.
The nobles gathered before the thrones rose to their feet as they entered, bowing low.
Selene felt the weight of their gazes some curious, some contemptuous, some calculating.
None welcoming.
Perfect.
She did not come to be welcomed.
She came to destroy.
Cassian mounted the dais without pause, taking his throne with the ease of a man who knew exactly how many knives were pointed at his back.
Selene stood beside him, a half-step to the right, her hands folded gracefully before her.
The throne beside Cassian, the queen's throne, remained empty.
Symbolic.
Temporary.
Conditional.
A statement without a single word spoken.
Selene's lips curved into a soft smile.
She would play this game.
And she would win.
The court session began.
Petitions. Grievances. Land disputes. Noble demands and military reports.
Selene listened, silent and attentive, cataloging every name, every loyalty, every secret flicker of hatred behind a bow or curtsy.
She saw everything.
The Lord Chancellor with his ink-stained fingers and desperate greed.
The Marchioness of Valenwood with her honeyed words and daggered smiles.
The High Commander, hiding his disgust for her behind a mask of stoicism.
All of them circling Cassian like vultures waiting for the king to stumble.
None of them noticing the blade already nestled at his side.
Her.
The first real strike came before the second hour.
Lord Rutgar, a heavyset man with thinning hair and a reputation for treachery, stepped forward with a bow so deep it bordered on mockery.
"My King," he said, voice dripping with false sweetness. "May I extend, once more, our court's joy at your blessed union?"
A murmur of agreement rippled through the nobles.
Cassian's face remained an unreadable mask.
Lord Rutgar straightened, smiling broadly.
"And may I suggest," he said, "that Her Majesty be granted full investiture as Queen of Veredon, with all associated powers and responsibilities, without delay?"
Selene's heartbeat slowed.
A trap.
Too soon.
Too obvious.
Granting her full political authority would paint a target on her back larger than any crown. It would divide the court further, pit the old bloodlines against her, isolate Cassian from his nobles.
Divide and conquer.
She knew the tactic because it had been hers once, during training.
Selene lowered her gaze, hiding the spark of grim amusement behind her lashes.
They thought they were the predators.
They had no idea what they were inviting into their ranks.
Cassian leaned back in his throne, his fingertips drumming a slow, thoughtful rhythm against the armrest.
The court held its collective breath.
Selene risked a glance at him, carefully, curious how he would respond.
For the first time, she caught a glimpse of something beneath the king's cold exterior.
Not anger.
Not annoyance.
Strategy.
Cassian's lips curved into a smile so faint it barely existed.
"Lord Rutgar," he said, voice smooth as silk over steel. "Such urgency on my behalf. I am touched."
Rutgar's smile faltered, just slightly.
Cassian rose to his feet with unhurried grace, the full weight of his authority filling the hall.
"My queen will be invested," he continued, his gaze sweeping the assembly like a blade, "when the time is right. When her loyalty has been proven not just to me… but to all of Veredon."
Selene felt the room shift around her.
An undercurrent of satisfaction from the old bloodlines.
A crackle of insult among the more ambitious nobles.
A masterstroke.
Cassian had deflected the attack, strengthened his own position, and set her up to earn or betray public trust.
A king who kept his enemies guessing was a king who stayed alive.
Selene inclined her head gracefully, accepting the insult without outward reaction.
Inside, she smiled.
Two could play that game.
The court session dragged on, but Selene remained silent, observant, gathering her weapons.
Names. Faces. Weaknesses.
Each noble was a piece on the board.
Each whispered glance, each small betrayal of decorum, another thread for her to weave into her web.
She watched the way Lord Rutgar and the Marchioness exchanged a glance too swift to be innocent.
She noted the way the High Commander's hand hovered near the hilt of his sword whenever Cassian spoke of reforms.
She filed it all away.
Tonight, when she returned to her chambers, she would write it all down.
Every detail.
Every opportunity.
Every vulnerability.
Knowledge was sharper than any dagger.
And she intended to bleed this court dry before she ever drew her first blade.
When the final petition was heard and the court dismissed, Cassian turned to her, his voice low enough for her ears alone.
"You see now," he murmured, not unkindly, "what kingdom you've married into."
Selene lifted her gaze to meet his, unflinching.
"I see," she said quietly, "a kingdom held together by fear and ambition."
Cassian's mouth quirked, as if she had amused him.
"Good," he said. "Then you'll survive longer than most."
He offered his arm once again.
Selene hesitated for only a breath.
Then she placed her hand lightly on his sleeve.
Another lie.
Another play.
Another step into the viper's nest.
As they walked side by side out of the court, Selene allowed herself one small, savage promise:
She would master this court.
She would master this kingdom.
And when the time came, she would master the king himself.