Chapter 13: A Clash of Wills

The grand council chamber of Aurelia was bathed in golden sunlight, its towering marble pillars stretching toward the ceiling. At the head of the long table sat King Octavius Aurelius, his face carved from stone, his sea-blue eyes cold with displeasure.

Princess Amara sat across from him, her back straight, her expression unreadable. Prince Zayid, ever the troublemaker, lounged beside her, half-bored, half-amused, his sharp eyes scanning the Aurelian women in the room.

The tension in the chamber was thick, unyielding.

The king studied Amara as though she were an unwanted problem that had landed at his feet. He had agreed to this meeting not out of curiosity, but out of necessity—he needed to understand why his son had chosen her.

Finally, he spoke. "You are not what I expected."

Amara tilted her head slightly. "And what did you expect, Your Majesty?"

His lips pressed into a thin line. "A submissive woman. A proper lady of nobility, not a warrior dressed in silks."

Zayid let out a short laugh. "Then you don't know my sister at all."

Amara ignored her brother, her gaze locked onto the king's. "And yet, your son chose me."

The councilmen stirred, whispers passing between them. The boldness in her voice, the confidence in her stance—it unsettled them.

The king leaned forward. "Prince Cassius does not choose. He obeys."

Amara's hazel eyes gleamed with amusement. "Is that so?"

She placed her hands on the table, leaning in slightly, her presence commanding despite the power surrounding her.

"Then tell me, Your Majesty," she continued, her voice smooth but sharp, "if Prince Cassius is so obedient, why is he defying you now?"

The chamber fell into dead silence.

The king's fingers curled into fists. He hated her logic. Hated that she had turned his own words against him.

Before he could respond, the grand doors swung open.

A figure strode in, his golden hair gleaming in the sunlight, his royal cloak billowing behind him.

Prince Cassius.

The moment his eyes landed on Amara, something in him shifted.

She was just as he remembered—fierce, beautiful, unapologetically bold. The fire in her hazel eyes mocked him, challenged him, called to him.

His gaze flickered to Zayid, lounging lazily at her side, and something darkened in his chest. Possessiveness.

"Father." Cassius's voice cut through the silence like a blade. "I hear you've been interrogating my future wife."

The king's expression turned to steel. "Your wife? That remains to be seen."

Cassius smirked, but there was no amusement in his eyes. "Oh, I think it's already been decided."

He turned to Amara, stepping closer, his presence commanding the room.

"Princess," he said smoothly, "shall we continue this conversation elsewhere?"

The message was clear.

This meeting was over.

Amara studied him for a moment before rising gracefully to her feet. Zayid groaned dramatically but stood as well.

The king said nothing as they exited, but his rage was palpable.

This was far from over.