the timid bride

**Chapter 35 – Whispers at the Throne**

The throne room was not what Zara expected.

It was colder. Not in temperature, but in spirit. The marble floors shone like ice under the chandeliers, and the red carpet leading to the twin thrones looked more like spilled blood than royalty.

Nobles filled the space with velvet robes, jeweled collars, and polished boots. Their voices were low, murmuring behind fans and goblets, eyes darting to the doors as if waiting for a show to begin.

And the moment Zara entered — hand lightly resting on Kael's arm — the murmurs stopped.

Dead silence.

She felt it like a knife to her ribs.

The timid bride. The peasant girl. The puppet queen.

Kael, on the other hand, walked like he owned every breath in the room.

He wore a dark navy tunic embroidered in black thread, his hair swept back, and a silver pin shaped like a hawk fastened to his collar. He looked untouchable. Unforgiving.

And he made sure she walked beside him, not behind.

The throne platform loomed ahead — two tall, ornate chairs carved in blackwood and laced with gold.

Kael didn't speak as they climbed the steps. He took his seat easily. But before she could hesitate, his hand gently found the small of her back and guided her to sit beside him.

Zara tried not to look nervous. Her spine straight, her hands folded in her lap. Her heart pounded so hard she was sure the entire court could hear it.

A herald stepped forward.

"Let the royal session begin," he called. "In the presence of Prince Kael of House Virelith, and Lady Zara, his betrothed."

Whispers bloomed instantly — then died when Kael's eyes swept across the room like a blade.

First came petitions — nobles requesting lands, trade favors, military assistance.

Kael listened. Questioned sharply. Denied more than he approved.

Zara sat in silence, eyes flicking from speaker to speaker. She was starting to see the patterns: who held power, who feared it, and who pretended not to.

Then, a voice rose. A familiar one.

"Your Highness," said Lady Mirelle, stepping forward, dressed in red this time. The color of provocation.

Zara stiffened.

Kael's eyes narrowed, but he said nothing.

Mirelle curtsied deeply, then raised her chin. "May I address the lady at your side?"

The court froze. Kael didn't answer.

Zara looked at him, waiting for a signal. He gave her none.

She turned slowly toward Mirelle. "You may speak."

Mirelle's lips curled. "I merely wish to understand the wisdom behind granting influence to someone so… unacquainted with our laws."

The insult sliced clean.

Zara took a slow breath. She could feel Kael's stillness beside her — he wouldn't protect her from this.

And something in her… didn't want him to.

"Influence," Zara said clearly, "is earned not by blood, but by the weight of one's presence. And perhaps that's what frightens you, Lady Mirelle."

Gasps rippled through the court.

Mirelle blinked, caught off guard.

Kael's mouth curved ever so slightly. His hand, resting on the armrest, flexed once — a signal only she could see.

"Enough," he said calmly. "Lady Mirelle, your concerns are noted. You may step back."

Mirelle flushed but obeyed.

The rest of the court continued, but something had shifted. Zara felt it. Felt eyes on her — not with pity anymore, but wariness.

She'd spoken. Publicly. Strongly.

And she had survived it.

—

After the session ended, Kael didn't speak to her right away. He escorted her down the steps, nodded to the nobles, and kept walking until they were alone in the corridor beyond the grand hall.

Then he stopped.

"You didn't wait for my cue," he said flatly.

Zara's heart skipped. "You didn't give one."

Kael turned to her, gaze unreadable. "That was a test."

"I know."

"And what if you had failed?"

"I didn't."

The silence stretched.

Then, slowly, his lips curved again. "You're learning."

Zara didn't smile. "You threw me into a pit of wolves."

"You need to stop pretending you're a rabbit."

"I'm not pretending anymore."

A beat passed.

Kael took a step closer, his eyes darker now. "Then stop looking at me like I'm one of them."

Zara held his gaze. "Aren't you?"

The question hung between them like a spark.

Kael reached up and brushed a loose strand of hair from her cheek. His fingers lingered at her jaw.

"I'm the one who keeps them from devouring you."

Zara swallowed. "Or the one they fear more."

His smile didn't fade. "Both."

—

That night, Zara sat at her window again, but her thoughts weren't scattered like usual. They were focused. Clear.

Lady Mirelle had tried to humiliate her.

Kael had tested her in front of dozens of nobles.

And still — she'd walked away with her dignity.

There was strength in silence… but there was more in choosing when to break it.

A knock at her door.

This time it was a page. Young, nervous.

"A message, my lady."

He handed her a scroll sealed in wax.

Zara broke the seal.

It wasn't from Kael.

**"You're playing a dangerous game, little dove. And not everyone finds your voice charming. Speak again, and you may not speak at all."**

No name. No signature.

Just a warning.

A threat.

Zara's fingers trembled slightly as she set the scroll down.

So this was what power invited — not just respect, but enemies.

She looked toward the door.

Then to the raven hairpin Kael had given her.

And for the first time since she entered the palace…

She didn't feel small.

She felt awake.