Chapter sixteen

Chapter Sixteen – The Echoes of Power

Elyra awoke to a pale morning light streaming through the high windows of her chamber. The lingering weight of last night's encounter with Draven clung to her like a second skin. His words echoed in her mind "Then you'll become a player".

The thought unsettled her. She had never been one for court intrigue, for deception wrapped in silk and whispered in shadows. But she was beginning to realize that survival in this palace required more than mere endurance. It demanded strategy.

A knock at her door pulled her from her thoughts. Anna entered with a cautious glance, carrying a tray of food.

"My lady," she greeted, setting the tray down. "You didn't sleep well."

Elyra sighed, rubbing her temples. "It seems sleep is a luxury I won't afford for a while."

Anna hesitated before speaking. "There are whispers, my lady. After last night."

Elyra stiffened. "What kind of whispers?"

"That the king spoke to you privately. That he lingered."

She frowned. "Why would that be of any concern?"

Anna looked at her with something between pity and worry. "Because it's not something he does. The court watches him as much as they watch you."

A chill settled over Elyra's spine. Of course, they would talk. Every step she took, every glance exchanged, would be another thread woven into the ever-growing web of palace speculation. And Draven his presence, his words, his attention

 was something they could use against her.

Elyra straightened, pushing away the nerves curling in her stomach. If they wanted to play their games, then she would learn the rules.

"Then let them talk," she said firmly. "They'll have to do more than whisper to shake me."

Anna studied her for a moment, then gave a small nod, approval flickering in her eyes. "Very well, my lady. But be careful. The court's kindness is as false as their smiles."

Elyra finished her meal quickly, her mind set. She needed to be ready for whatever came next. And she suspected it would come sooner rather than later.

As if summoned by her thoughts, another knock sounded at the door, sharper this time. The guards barely waited for permission before stepping aside to reveal a royal messenger, his expression stoic.

"The king has requested your presence in the war chamber."

Elyra's breath caught, but she schooled her face into calm neutrality. The war chamber. Not the throne room, not the dining hall but the very heart of Draven's power.

Something was changing.

And she intended to find out what.

As Elyra followed the messenger through the halls, she could feel the eyes of the court upon her. Whispers drifted in hushed voices from behind embroidered fans and gilded pillars. Every glance held a quiet curiosity, some laced with amusement, others with open hostility. It was clear that her mere presence in the war chamber was an unexpected development.

When they finally arrived, the massive double doors loomed before her, guards stationed on both sides. The messenger stepped forward and pushed them open, revealing a grand room dominated by a long oak table, strewn with maps and documents. The air was thick with the scent of parchment and ink, a stark contrast to the perfume-drenched halls she had just walked through.

Draven stood at the head of the table, his imposing form clad in dark armor, a stark reminder that he was more warlord than king. Beside him, several of his advisors stiffened at her entrance, their expressions ranging from surprise to thinly veiled disapproval.

She met Draven's gaze, and for the briefest moment, she thought she saw a flicker of something in his eyes something unreadable.

"You summoned me," she said evenly, stepping forward, refusing to let them see any hesitation.

Draven nodded, gesturing for her to approach. "There are matters you should be aware of."

A murmur rippled through the room, but Draven silenced it with a mere glance.

Elyra's pulse quickened. Whatever this was, it wasn't just about politics.

It was about power.