the timid bride

**Chapter 39 – The Weight of His Crown**

Zara didn't sleep that night.

Even with Kael beside her — his arm a warm, immovable band around her waist — her mind wouldn't rest. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the assassin's blade. The way it flashed in the sunlight. The way it almost kissed her throat.

But worse than the fear was the way her body had responded to Kael.

To his rage.

To his protectiveness.

To his kiss.

She curled into herself, careful not to wake him. But the moment she shifted, his voice rumbled low behind her.

"You're still awake."

Zara bit her lip. "I didn't want to wake you."

"I wasn't sleeping," Kael murmured. "I was listening to you breathe."

The quiet stole her words.

"I keep thinking about what would've happened if you weren't there," she whispered.

"You don't have to," he said. "Because I was."

Zara turned slowly to face him. His silver eyes glowed in the moonlight, sharp and soft all at once.

"Do you ever get tired of carrying it all?" she asked. "The crown. The court. The constant danger?"

Kael's brows drew together slightly. Then he reached up and traced her jaw with his thumb.

"I carry it because no one else can. Because if I put it down, people die."

"You don't have to carry me too."

His eyes darkened.

"I want to carry you," he said. "Because you're the only thing I've never seen as a burden."

Zara's throat tightened. Her walls — the ones she'd built since the wedding — were starting to crack.

"You scare me sometimes," she admitted.

"I know."

"Because when I'm with you, I forget who I was before this place. Before you."

Kael leaned in, pressing a kiss to her temple. "Then forget. Start over. Here. With me."

—

By morning, the palace was tense.

Kael left early to address the council. Zara remained in his chambers, cloaked in silence. But she wasn't idle.

She asked for records. Names. Details.

The assassin hadn't worked alone — she could feel it.

Every instinct she didn't know she had buzzed beneath her skin. She wasn't just a pawn anymore. She was Kael's wife. And that meant power — whether she liked it or not.

When Kael returned hours later, his expression was unreadable.

"You summoned the guard captain?" he asked.

Zara nodded. "I needed answers."

Kael stared at her for a long moment. Then he smiled — just slightly.

"And what did you learn?"

"That the assassin was paid," she said. "But the coin was foreign. Not from within the palace."

Kael's eyes narrowed. "The Eastern Lords."

"That's what I thought."

He paced the room, jaw clenched.

"They've been whispering rebellion for months," he said. "But I didn't think they'd be foolish enough to make the first move."

"They didn't attack the court," Zara said. "They attacked your wife."

He stopped. Turned. His gaze landed on her like a storm cloud.

"I know."

Zara crossed the room to him. She reached for his hand — the same one that had killed for her yesterday. He let her take it.

"I want to help," she said. "Not just survive this place… but fight for it."

Kael looked down at her — this woman who had once trembled at his touch. This bride who had once refused to meet his gaze.

"You already are."

He lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles, gently… reverently.

"Then let me do more," she said. "Give me access. Let me speak to your informants. Let me learn what it means to be your queen."

Kael didn't hesitate.

"Done."

—

That evening, the court gathered for a quiet dinner.

It was meant to show stability. Control. Power.

Zara arrived alone.

Heads turned. Whispers echoed. She could feel them — the judgment, the curiosity, the fear.

She walked tall.

Dressed in a deep blue gown lined with silver, Kael's crest stitched over her heart.

She sat at the prince's table without waiting for him.

Gasps followed.

And when Kael entered a moment later and saw her — saw the way she held her head high — something shifted behind his eyes.

He took the seat beside her.

Not one courtier spoke directly to her.

Until Lady Valina — sharp-tongued and venomous — leaned forward.

"Your Highness," she said smoothly, "you look… less pale than yesterday. A good night's rest does wonders for a woman's composure, doesn't it?"

Zara met her eyes. Smiled politely.

"No rest could compare to the feeling of knowing I'm protected," she said. "The palace walls may be tall, but my husband's sword is taller."

Kael choked on his wine.

The table fell into stunned silence.

Then Kael let out a low laugh.

Pride. Pure and unfiltered.

He reached beneath the table and took Zara's hand in his — interlacing their fingers for all to see.

And just like that, the power in the room shifted.

The bride was no longer timid.

She was claiming her throne.

—

That night, Kael pulled Zara onto the terrace just as the stars came out.

The air was cool. Quiet. Safe.

"I saw what you did," he said.

"Which part?" she asked, pretending not to smile.

"All of it."

Kael tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

"I've been fighting battles alone for so long, I forgot what it felt like to have someone beside me."

"You're not alone anymore," she said.

He leaned in, his lips brushing hers.

"I know."

The kiss was slower this time.

Softer.

Not because it lacked passion — but because it was building something deeper. Steadier.

They stood there in silence for a while, his arms wrapped around her, her head against his chest.

And as the stars wheeled overhead, Zara closed her eyes and finally — finally — rested.

Not because the danger was gone.

But because she had chosen to stay.

—

Far below, in the quietest wing of the palace, a shadow moved.

Another message was delivered.

Another blade sharpened.

The war had only just begun.