the timid bride

Chapter 68: 68



# Chapter 68 – The Phoenix Rises

Snow fell steadily over the Northern Wall as the second wave of enemies descended, but Zara no longer felt the cold. Blood soaked through her gauntlets, bruises bloomed beneath her armor, and her breath came in ragged gasps. Yet she stood tall, blade drawn, eyes locked on the horizon.

Behind her, what remained of the Queen's Guard rallied to her side. Damon had taken an arrow to the shoulder but still fought. Varek bled from a gash across his temple. Amara moved like smoke—silent, deadly, precise.

"They're regrouping," Varek growled, spitting blood. "Looks like they've got new reinforcements from the east."

Zara's jaw clenched. "We hold this line. No matter what comes."

A younger soldier—barely more than a boy—trembled nearby. Zara moved toward him.

"Your name?" she asked.

"L-Lio, Your Majesty."

She knelt, eye level with him. "Lio, do you want to live?"

He nodded.

"Then stand with me. We don't need to be the strongest—we just need to be the ones who refuse to fall."

He swallowed, then straightened. "Yes, Your Majesty."

The trumpet blew again.

The enemy charged.

Zara's voice rang through the chaos. "Shields up! Form the diamond!"

Her troops shifted expertly—tight, defensive. As the wave hit them, the formation held. Screams rang out. Steel crashed against steel. Arrows rained from above. But this time, they were ready.

Zara plunged into the fight with renewed fury. She moved like fire—unpredictable, all-consuming. She ducked beneath a blade, countered with a thrust to the ribs, pivoted into another enemy.

The world narrowed to movement. Rhythm. Survival.

By the time the sun broke fully through the clouds, the enemy's numbers had thinned. Their front line began to fracture.

"Push forward!" Zara roared.

They surged.

The battle spilled down into the hills beyond the wall. The enemy faltered, then broke. By dusk, the field was theirs.

Zara stood on the ridge, breath heavy, heart pounding.

They had won.

That night, the soldiers lit fires along the wall. Zara walked among them, not as a queen—but as one of them. She checked wounds, thanked the injured, helped bury the dead.

She stopped at Lio's side. His arm had been slashed, but he was grinning.

"I didn't run," he said.

"You fought," Zara replied. "And now, you live."

She turned to Damon, who approached with a healer beside him.

"The scouts report no signs of another army nearby," he said. "We've bought time."

"Time is all we need," she answered. "Time to plan. To strike back where they least expect."

Damon studied her. "You're not afraid of being outnumbered anymore."

Zara shook her head. "I've learned something important in this war."

"What's that?"

"That fear is a weapon. And I've mastered it."

Back in the capital, news of the victory spread like wildfire. Peasants cheered her name in the streets. Nobles looked at her with a mix of awe and terror.

She returned to the palace three days later.

But she didn't go to her chambers. She went straight to the war room.

Amara followed. "Rest would be wise."

"There will be time for rest when this kingdom no longer walks on broken glass."

She pulled open a map. "I want to know who funded the eastern reinforcements. Who moved those troops. Who fed them, housed them, paid their blades."

"We'll find them."

"No," Zara said. "I'll find them."

A week later, she did.

House Durnhelm—an ancient line, quiet for generations. Their gold had flowed east in secret. Their envoys had lied under oath.

Zara didn't send a letter.

She rode there herself.

Surrounded by only five guards, she entered Durnhelm's great hall like a storm.

Lord Durnhelm rose shakily from his seat. "Your Majesty, this is a surprise—"

She threw a blood-stained sword onto the floor.

"Your gold funded this. Your lies cost lives. I don't want your excuses. I want your legacy."

His wife sobbed. His sons paled.

"You will strip your banners. You will open your vaults. You will swear fealty to this throne in blood—or you will die in disgrace."

They chose the first.

That night, as she returned to the capital, Damon rode beside her in silence.

"You're not the girl I met on our wedding day," he finally said.

"No," Zara replied. "She died. And I rose in her place."

Damon nodded slowly. "And I love you more for it."

They rode beneath a full moon, silent and steady.

And behind them, the realm slowly began to shift—not just from war, but from the force of a queen who had walked through fire and come out wielding it.

(Word Count: 1,522)


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