The Queen’s Command

The court still knelt, their heads bowed in reverence.

But Seraphine wasn't done.

Kaelith had claimed her before them all. He had kissed her wrist, called her his queen in name, in power, in body and soul.

Now, she would see if he meant it.

She turned to him, her voice steady, unwavering. "If I am truly your equal, Kaelith, then let them see it."

Kaelith raised a brow. "You doubt me already?"

Seraphine lifted her chin. "I doubt nothing, but words are not enough. You've given me your claim—now give me your crown."

A sharp intake of breath rippled through the court.

The crown.

A symbol of power, of rule—not just beside Kaelith, but with him.

No prince had ever shared it. No queen had ever worn it before her time.

Kaelith's expression darkened—not with anger, but with something far more dangerous.

Amusement.

Challenge.

Desire.

Slowly, he reached up, undoing the clasp of the ceremonial chain around his shoulders. The heavy medallion that signified his authority slid from his neck, resting in his hands.

Then, without hesitation—without breaking her gaze—Kaelith stepped forward and draped it over her own shoulders.

Gasps filled the hall.

Seraphine stood tall, meeting the stunned eyes of the court. "Kneel again," she commanded, her voice like steel wrapped in silk. "Not just to him—but to us."

And they did.

Every last noble, every last advisor, pressing their foreheads to the marble floor.

Kaelith let out a slow, approving chuckle beside her. "Careful, my queen," he murmured, low and taunting. "Push me too far, and I might just have to remind you who truly holds power between us."

Seraphine smirked. "Try me."

His eyes flashed.

And she knew, right then and there, that this was far from over.

To be continued…

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