the timid bride

# Chapter 73 – The Enemy Within

The gates of the capital loomed tall and gray as Zara's convoy approached. The sun had not yet risen, but the streets were already awake. Whispers had spread faster than fire: the queen had returned from the Blackwood victorious. Yet even in triumph, a cloud of unease hung over the city like a shroud.

Zara rode at the front, her armor still streaked with dried blood. She had refused to change or rest. Her message was clear: this war was not over, and she would not pretend otherwise.

As they entered the castle, servants bowed, guards saluted, but Zara's attention was elsewhere. In her hand she still clutched the letter bearing the initials "V.C." — Vairen Corshal.

Amara and Damon followed her into the throne room, which had become more war room than royal hall. Maps, scrolls, and dispatches covered every surface. Zara threw the letter down at the center table.

"Send word to every outpost," she commanded. "I want Corshal found. If he breathes, we will drag him from whatever hole he hides in."

Damon stepped closer. "We must also consider the possibility that he has allies here in the capital."

Zara's eyes narrowed. "Then we'll root them out."

Amara spoke cautiously. "It won't be easy. Corshal had friends in high places—some of whom wear noble crests and sit in this very court."

Zara turned sharply. "Then summon the court."

---

By midday, the Grand Court assembled. Nobles, ministers, and lords filled the marble hall, their faces curious, some concerned, others masked behind the polish of decorum. Zara entered not in royal robes, but in armor, the phoenix pendant gleaming against her chest.

She wasted no time.

"Vairen Corshal is alive," she said, voice cutting through the room like a blade. "And one of you helped him disappear."

A murmur ran through the crowd like a ripple on a pond. Lord Harven raised a hand. "Your Majesty, with respect—Corshal was hanged. We all saw the execution order."

"I signed it myself," Zara replied. "But the body was burned before it could be examined. Convenient, isn't it?"

The court grew silent.

Zara continued. "This morning, we intercepted a mercenary force in Brimcliff—one that had been paid to destroy Velden. They were funded with treasury gold that vanished five years ago."

Another murmur. One man, Lord Kestel, looked visibly pale.

Zara's gaze snapped to him. "Is something troubling you, Lord Kestel?"

He shook his head too quickly. "N-no, Your Majesty."

Damon stepped forward, placing a hand on Kestel's shoulder. "Then you won't mind a search of your estate."

Kestel's composure cracked.

He bolted.

Guards surged forward, catching him before he reached the doors. He struggled, shouting, "You don't understand! Corshal has people everywhere! Even in this palace!"

Zara stepped down from the dais slowly, her voice low but full of fire. "Tell me everything."

Kestel collapsed to his knees. "He... he faked his death. Paid the executioner. He's been hiding in the north, gathering funds, promising land to nobles if they support him when the capital falls."

Zara looked to Amara and Damon. "Prepare a rider to the northern regions. We leave in two days. But first—search every estate, every cellar, every whispering hall."

---

That night, Zara sat alone in her private chambers. A map of the north was spread before her, pins marking suspected rebel holdouts. The candle beside her burned low, casting flickering shadows on her face.

Damon entered quietly. "You should sleep."

"I can't," she said without looking up.

He moved beside her. "This is not your burden alone."

Zara finally looked at him, exhaustion softening her features. "They want to break me. First with war, now with betrayal."

"But they won't," he said firmly. "You've become more than a ruler. You've become a flame they can't snuff out."

Zara reached up, fingers grazing the phoenix pendant. "Then we burn everything they built on lies."

She stood and turned to face the window. Outside, lightning split the sky over the palace.

The war was no longer on distant fields.

It had come home.

And she would not retreat.