the timid bride

# Chapter 79 – Echoes of the Past

The palace was quiet as dawn broke over the city. Early morning light slipped through stained glass windows, casting colored shadows on the polished marble floor of the queen's study. Zara sat at her desk, hands folded over a sealed letter—one delivered just before sunrise by a messenger bearing no crest.

It was unsigned, written in the old royal cipher. A single line:

**"Not all your enemies are dead."**

Zara's fingers tightened on the parchment.

She had thought the war ended. The cities had been reclaimed. The nobles judged. Corshal executed. Peace had begun to grow like a fragile vine. But this letter was a warning—an ember in the ashes.

Damon entered as if on cue. "You read it?"

She slid the letter across the table. He read it silently.

"We don't know who sent it," he said. "No seal. No witnesses. The messenger vanished before our men could question him."

Zara stood and crossed to the window. "It's not over."

"Then we prepare," Damon said. "We don't retreat. We adapt."

She nodded slowly. "Send scouts. Recheck the nobles we pardoned. Review the eastern ports and border towns. I want every movement documented."

Amara entered next, carrying a list. "We have three new petitions for royal hearings. Two border disputes. One merchant complaining about soldiers taxing goods in his province."

Zara took the papers and scanned them. She wasn't just a queen of war anymore—she was a queen of justice, law, and patience.

But she wouldn't let her guard down.

Not again.

---

Later that day, Zara rode into the outskirts of Velden for an unscheduled visit. Since the war, she'd made it a habit to appear without fanfare—no banners, no declarations. Just a hood, her guards, and her presence.

The people responded not with bows, but with nods of respect. A child ran up to her with a bundle of lilies. She knelt and accepted them with a smile.

"You're the fire queen," the girl whispered.

Zara's smile faltered only for a second. "Yes. But I'm also just Zara."

The child nodded as if that was enough.

She continued through the city. Reconstruction efforts were in full swing. Streets repaved. Roofs repaired. Shops humming with new life. But on a side alley wall, she noticed something.

A symbol scrawled in charcoal—a black crown, crude and angular.

The same one Corshal's men used.

Her eyes narrowed. She tapped Damon's shoulder.

"Get a sketch of that," she ordered. "And discreetly find out who's drawing them."

"They're testing the waters," Damon muttered. "Seeing if there's still sympathy."

Zara's voice was low but iron. "Then we drown it before it becomes flame."

---

That evening, back at the palace, a report came in from the western border.

A small fleet had docked at the Blackspire port under false merchant licenses. Weapons were found hidden in barrels of grain. Several men disappeared before questioning.

Zara called an emergency meeting.

"They're reorganizing," Amara said, pointing to maps. "Scattered remnants. Foreign mercenaries. Smugglers."

Damon frowned. "But not under Corshal. Not directly. This is something else."

Zara looked between them. "Corshal was the blade. But someone else forged it. We never found out who helped fake his death five years ago."

A silence fell over the room.

Then Amara whispered, "What if that someone is still in the palace?"

Zara stood slowly, her expression unreadable. "Then we find them. Even if it takes burning every secret passage and unsealing every wall."

---

That night, she returned to her chambers, alone for once.

She stood at her balcony, lilies in hand, staring at the stars.

Peace, she realized, was not a destination.

It was a path paved daily, guarded fiercely, and defended with teeth.

She would walk it. And she would not walk it blind.

Because she wasn't just ruling a kingdom anymore.

She was hunting