The palace shook before the soldiers of Zareth even dismounted.
Their horses stormed the courtyard like thunder; the royal guards instinctively stepped back. The banners of the sun-scarred desert kingdom billowed in the wind—gold on deep crimson—like a warning flame. Courtiers who watched from the windows whispered prayers. War had not come, but it had certainly arrived.
The grand doors of the throne room slammed open with a boom that echoed through the halls like war drums. The Zareth delegation swept in, cloaked in furs and armor, their faces hard as carved stone. Their banners—black trimmed with crimson—fluttered behind them like shadows.
The earth itself seemed to hush.
Servants shrank against the walls. The royal family sat in uneasy silence, the air so thick with tension it was suffocating.
King Roland of Zareth stepped forward. His piercing eyes scanned the room before landing on King Vincent, cold as frostbite. "You sent for peace," he began, voice heavy and dangerous, "and offered my daughter as the price. And now I hear rumors. Insults. Whispers in the street like flies on carcasses."
Queen Beatrice tried to rise with grace. "Your Majesty, allow me to explain. Its not as it seems —"
"We speak to kings," one of the Zareth generals snapped, his voice cracking like a whip. "Not pampered courtiers who paint over betrayal with perfume and silk!"
Gasps rippled across the chamber. The Queen's face froze in shock, the sting of insult vivid in her tightening jaw. But she said nothing.
Another Zareth noble, rough-voiced and scar-faced, stepped forward. "You dare shame our princess—our pride."
The Queen turned sharply to her husband, eyes wide now, voice low but urgent. "Say something," she whispered through clenched teeth, the edges of fear beginning to creep into her regal composure. "If they walk out of here, it's war."
But the King didn't speak. He stared at the delegation, feeling the weight of his crown like iron pressing against his skull. These weren't polished, reasonable diplomats—they were Zareth. Proud. Fierce. And dangerously unpredictable.
He cleared his throat. "We understand your anger. And we—"
"You understand nothing!" King Roland thundered. "You call us allies, then humiliate my child and speak of understanding? Let me tell you what Zareth understands—blood for blood. You insult our daughter, we take your heads."
The room nearly trembled with the force of his rage. Even the palace guards stiffened, hands drifting warily to the hilts of their swords. It was as if the storm Zareth carried with them had finally broken—and now, thunder waited in clenched jaws and narrowed eyes.
King Vincent stood, slowly, like a man walking a tightrope in a storm.
"There was… a meeting," he said, his voice barely steady. "Among the council. We were made aware of certain… developments. And after much deliberation, a solution was reached."
"Solution?" King Roland repeated, his voice low and sharp, like a blade being unsheathed. "What kind of solution do you speak of, Your Majesty? Because from what I gather, your son defiled his wedding vows with a nobleman's wife and another man—on his wedding night."
Gasps echoed. Some of the Elarion nobles looked down in shame, others away in disbelief. A few of the Zareth men laughed—a cruel, mocking sound.
The Queen shot the advisor a glare that could shatter glass.
"We were just as shocked," she snapped, her usual poise cracking. "None of us saw this coming. It was… a disgrace."
"Then why," King Roland growled, "does the entire capital know of it before me?"
No one had an answer.
Then Queen Beatrice tried to step in, her hands delicate but her voice hard. "We were trying to contain the damage before speaking with you—"
"You mean, you were hoping we'd never find out."
The Queen faltered. Her mouth opened, then shut.
King Vincent lifted his hand, his face pale with tension. "Listen. Please. We did not summon you here for excuses. We summoned you because we have come to a decision—one we believe will preserve the alliance, protect Lilian's dignity, and honor both kingdoms."
The silence was suffocating.
King Roland's brow furrowed. "Go on, then. Say it."
A pause.
Then a voice came—not from the King. But from Asher.
He stepped from the shadows at the edge of the throne room, where he had stood like a sentinel, silent and unseen.
"It was my suggestion," he said. "That the alliance continue. Through a new bond."
Lilian's heart jumped in her chest.
Queen Beatrice looked at him sharply.
King Vincent hesitated… then nodded.
"We will annul the marriage between Prince Henry and Princess Lilian," the king declared. "And… we will bless a new one. Between Princess Lilian and Prince Asher."
The room erupted. Voices rose in protest, shock, and fury.
Zareth warriors stepped forward as if preparing for battle.
Queen Beatrice 's voice hissed at her husband. "You said we would wait—"
"She's with child," the King shot back under his breath. "They had to know."
King Roland slammed a gauntleted fist into his palm.