The Warning in the Shadows

Clara sat quietly in the grand hallway just outside the council chamber. Her hands were still, but her thoughts raced like wildfire.

She had survived her first confrontation. Barely.

The councilmen had watched her like hawks, testing her every word, waiting for a slip. But she hadn't given them one. Not yet.

The door opened, and Alaric stepped out, his dark cape brushing the floor. He didn't speak right away. His eyes scanned the hall, found her, and stopped.

"You held your ground," he said finally, voice low.

Clara stood. "I remembered what you taught me. Speak like a queen, not a girl begging for scraps."

A flicker of a smirk appeared on his face. "And you did."

She expected him to leave it at that. Instead, he stepped closer.

"But next time, they won't be so polite. You rattled them."

"Good," she replied. "They should know I'm not afraid."

His gaze lingered, unreadable. "Fear is useful. It keeps you alive."

Just then, one of the palace guards approached Alaric with a sealed scroll. He broke it open and read it quickly, his expression darkening by the second.

"What is it?" Clara asked.

Alaric crumpled the parchment in his fist. "There's talk of a secret vote. They're trying to pass a motion to limit your presence in court."

Her heart skipped. "Can they do that?"

"If they succeed, they'll reduce you to a figurehead. You'll be silenced."

Clara clenched her fists. "I won't be."

"You'll have to move faster," Alaric said, his voice quieter now. "Win allies. Or take their power before they take yours."

The weight of the game was suddenly very real.

"I'll need names," she said.

He nodded. "You'll have them by morning."

Before he left, he looked back once more. "Clara," he said, softer this time. "They don't fear you yet. But after today... they've started to notice you."

He walked away, cloak sweeping behind him.

Later that night, Clara sat alone in the library. Her fingers brushed old volumes of laws, court rituals, and family alliances. Every word she read was a weapon waiting to be used.

She wasn't born into this world, but she was learning how to own it.

Then—footsteps.

She turned, expecting a servant.

But the man in the shadows wasn't one she recognized.

Tall. Cloaked in gray. His eyes gleamed, strange and cold.

"I heard the little bride barked at the Council today," he said casually.

Clara stiffened. "Who are you?"

He smiled faintly. "Someone who's been watching far longer than you've been playing this game."

"Another spy?" she challenged.

"No," he said. "Something worse."

He stepped forward, dropping a royal insignia into her hand.

It wasn't Alaric's.

The seal was older. Foreign.

She looked up, confused.

"The palace has enemies, Clara," he whispered. "But not all of them are outside th

e gates."

And then he vanished into the dark.

[ To be continued....]