The court's Judgement

Chapter Six – The Court's Judgement

The grand hall was a cathedral of power, its towering marble pillars stretching toward a vaulted ceiling painted with scenes of conquest and divine judgment. Golden chandeliers bathed the room in a warm glow, though the light did little to soften the cold, scrutinizing gazes fixed upon Elyra.

She stood at the center of it all, her hands resting at her sides, fingers clenched slightly in the folds of her gown. The weight of expectation pressed against her chest, but she refused to show weakness.

Draven stood beside her, regal and unreadable, his presence a dark force commanding the room. At the throne's foot, nobles gathered in clusters, their whispering voices slithering through the air like a chorus of serpents.

A man stepped forward. Older, draped in dark purple robes, his sharp features twisted with skepticism. Lord Svaric one of the high-ranking advisors, if Elyra recalled correctly.

"So, this is the girl." His tone was laced with thinly veiled disdain. "The foreign bride, picked from the borders and placed beside our king."

Elyra met his gaze with steady defiance. "I am Elyra Dorne," she corrected, her voice unwavering. "Daughter of Duke Dorne. And now, queen of this kingdom."

Murmurs rippled through the crowd. Some eyes widened with intrigue, others with distaste. Draven's gaze flickered with something unreadable—perhaps amusement or approval, but he said nothing.

Lord Svaric's lips curled into something resembling a smile. "A bold claim. But a title means nothing without merit."

Another noblewoman, clad in emerald silk, stepped forward. "Our late queen carried herself with dignity, with strength," she said, her voice honeyed but sharp. "Do you possess such qualities, Lady Elyra? Or will you crumble under the weight of this court?"

Elyra squared her shoulders, the phantom of her stepmother's voice echoing in her mind. You were meant for great things.

"I have walked into the den of lions, and I have not turned away," she replied. "If strength is what you seek, then watch and see."

A moment of silence. Then, a quiet chuckle. Draven.

He stepped forward, his golden eyes glinting as he glanced between the nobles and his new queen. "Well said," he murmured, before turning to the court. "There will be no further questions. She is your queen now."

There was finality in his tone. A command, not a suggestion. And just like that, the court's scrutiny shifted. Whispers persisted, but they had been given their answer. Whether they liked it or not, Elyra was here to stay.

As the gathering dispersed, Draven leaned closer, his breath warm against her ear. "You handled them well."

Elyra exhaled slowly. "I had no other choice."

A small smirk touched his lips. "No, you didn't."

As they left the hall, Elyra could still feel the weight of those eyes upon her. The nobles had assessed her, but their true judgment was yet to come. Draven's acceptance had shielded her for now, but it would not be enough forever.

She had stepped into a world of schemes and silent wars, where power was played like a game of chess. And if she wished to survive, she would have to learn the rules quickly or she could just make her own.

Beyond the grand doors of the throne room, a corridor stretched ahead, its stone walls lined with flickering sconces. A lone figure lingered at the end of the passageway a woman dressed in a modest yet finely embroidered gown. Her features were difficult to read in the dim light, but there was something calculating in her stance.

Elyra recognized her instantly. Lady Selene, one of the late queen's closest confidantes.

"You are brave," Selene said as Elyra approached. "But bravery without wisdom is recklessness."

Elyra held her gaze. "And wisdom without courage is cowardice."

Selene's lips twitched into a shadow of a smile. "Then let us see which one you truly are."

The woman turned and disappeared into the corridors, leaving Elyra standing in the flickering torchlight, the weight of her new world pressing heavily upon her shoulders.