POV: Skylar Blackwood – The Queen
The hallway outside the interrogation chamber echoed with the hard click of my heels. The call had come urgently—an intruder, a possible spy, caught during the festival eve... one who dared demand judgement from the King himself.
But Chris was unavailable.
He had secluded himself in meditation for days now, preparing mentally for the festival and the shifts in power he was about to unveil. No one was allowed to disturb him—not even me.
So here I was. Me, the Queen. Standing where kings once sat.
The door slid open. The air was thick with tension.
I walked in and saw him—slouched on the cold floor, dressed in rags, looking like life had chewed him up and spat him out.
But his posture…
The calm in his eyes.
The calculated way he didn't even glance up.
It struck me like a whisper in my soul.
Something's… wrong.
I moved slowly toward him, eyes scanning his face.
No one had dared remove his disguise yet. The men had assumed he was just a peasant, a madman making demands. But there was silence in the room now. Every B.A.M operative held their breath as I approached him.
"You asked for the King," I said coolly, stopping a few feet away.
His voice didn't waver. "I did. But if the Queen has come, I'll take her judgement."
Still didn't lift his head. Still didn't flinch.
"You know the weight of that request?"
"Yes."
"You know that under the law of the Blackwood Empire, I can have you executed now for suspected espionage?"
"I know."
"Then why risk death for a judgement?" I asked softly.
Finally—finally—he looked up.
And my heart skipped.
It was just a flicker.
Just a moment.
But I saw it.
Something behind the dirt. Behind the shadows of disguise.
That stare.
No one alive held that kind of gaze.
My voice cracked, barely a whisper, "...Chris?"
He didn't answer. Didn't blink.
I turned away quickly, trying to keep composure. My heart was racing.
He's testing something.
He's in disguise for a reason.
And he doesn't want to be revealed... not yet.
I turned to the B.A.M men and the Dictator. "Remove the guns. Step out."
Christiana frowned, "But, mother—"
"Now." My voice cut sharper than any blade.
They obeyed.
When the room cleared, I knelt in front of him slowly. "I won't ask why, but… what are you doing, love?"
He gave a small smile. "Trying to see what kind of justice a beggar gets in the empire I built."
I swallowed hard. "And?"
"Still deciding."
We sat in silence.
Outside, the empire buzzed with fireworks, preparing for a festival unlike anything ever seen.
But inside that small, cold room…
The King of the Blackwood Empire sat in rags.
And not even the Queen dared call him out.
To be continued...
Wanna continue with the Queen sneaking him out or letting the Dictator re-enter and test him further?