Selene sat in a wooden chair, one leg crossed over the other, her emerald eyes calm despite the tension in the room.
Across the room, Varrin and Cassandra the people who had raised her stood like statues, their expressions unreadable as they watched her. The scent of burning firewood from the hearth mixed with the faint aroma of books, a scent she had grown used to in this house.
Varrin, with his sharp dark eyes and streaks of silver in his hair, was the first to break the silence.
"So?" he asked, his voice rough. His gaze pinned her down like she was a misbehaving child. "How did it go?"
Selene leaned back, a small smirk tugging at her lips. "As expected."
Varrin's expression hardened. "And?"
"And I made a lasting impression," she said smoothly.
She saw the flicker of doubt in his eyes, the same doubt he had always carried when it came to her. It irritated her. No matter how many times she proved herself, he never seemed satisfied.
Cassandra, his wife—a woman also with streaks of silver in her dark hair and the coldest set of eyes Selene had ever seen—folded her arms. "You think so?"
Selene's smirk didn't waver. "I know so."
Varrin and Cassandra exchanged glances. Neither of them looked convinced.
"He is a man who has everything," Varrin said at last, stepping forward. "Power, wealth, an entire kingdom under his feet. A woman rejecting him might amuse him for a night, but will he still think of you by morning?"
Selene drummed her fingers against the chair's armrest, her confidence unshaken. "We'll find out soon enough."
Varrin let out a harsh sigh and ran a hand through his graying hair. "You do not take this seriously."
Selene's jaw tightened, but she said nothing.
"The entire faction has placed their hopes in you," he continued, pacing now, his frustration evident. "We cannot afford failure. Not after we saved you, raised you, protected you. We have waited many years for this, and we will not waste it on foolishness."
She knew what he meant.
The "faction"—a network of powerful individuals, nobles, scholars, and war strategists—had existed in the shadows for nearly a decade, working toward a single goal: to end King Ronan Dain's reign. They believed his rule was a threat to the realm, that he had gained his throne through deception and bloodshed.
The faction had grown over the years, carefully gathering members who opposed the King. Some had lost their families to his wars. Others had been stripped of their land, their wealth, their status. They operated in secrecy, never meeting in the same place twice, using coded messages and hidden safe houses across the kingdom. The risk of exposure was deadly. Anyone caught conspiring against the King would be executed.
And Selene was their greatest weapon.
The faction had found her as a child, an orphan with no name, no past—just a face that could bring a kingdom to its knees.
She had been trained for this. Groomed in the ways of courtly etiquette, deception, seduction, and strategy. She had learned how to navigate the dangerous political world, how to blend in, how to manipulate. And after years of waiting, they had sent her into the lion's den.
"I take this very seriously," Selene said, her voice colder now.
Varrin let out a humorless laugh. "I doubt it. It was a foolish plan to begin with. Sending a mere woman to the King, expecting what? That he'll simply fall for her charms? That a few bats of her lashes will bring him to his knees?" He scoffed. "Ridiculous. We are wasting our time."
Selene clenched her fists beneath the folds of her dressed. She had always known Varrin never truly believed in her. To him, she was just another tool to be used, another piece in their game.
"Calm yourself, husband, before you give yourself a stroke," Cassandra cut in, unimpressed. She turned to Selene, eyeing her closely. "It was only one encounter. And if the court gossip is to be believed, she did exactly what we sent her to do."
Varrin scoffed, unconvinced. "We should write to the faction now and tell them she's failed. No point in dragging this out."
Selene opened her mouth to argue—
Knock. Knock.
The room stilled.
Cassandra moved first, gliding toward the door. She opened it just enough to take a letter from the waiting servant before shutting it again.
"It's from the palace,"she said suprised, holding the letter between her fingers.
Selene rose to her feet and crossed the room, taking the letter from Cassandra.
She broke the wax seal, the sound of the paper tearing filling the silent space.
Her eyes scanned the words.
And then, slowly—deliberately—she smiled.
Cassandra took a step forward, her voice sharp. "Well?"
Selene held the letter up between her fingers.
"An invitation," she announced.
Varrin straightened, suspicion flashing across his face. "For what?"
Selene met his gaze, her green eyes glinting.
"The Queen's Games."
A charged silence fell over the room.
Cassandra inhaled sharply. "The Queen's Games haven't been held in years."
"It seems they're bringing it back," Selene murmured.
The Queen's Games—an ancient trial once used to test a future Queen's worthiness. It had been a competition, filled with challenges designed to measure intelligence, strength, and ability. It was not just a display of grace and diplomacy. It was a battle. And once, long ago, queens had bled for their crowns.
"And you've been appointed?" Varrin asked, his voice unreadable.
"If I choose to accept."
A heavy silence.
Selene could see the shift in Varrin's expression, the calculation running through his mind. Just moments ago, he had dismissed her efforts. Now, he saw an opportunity.
"This is your chance," he said finally.
Selene rolled her eyes. Now he believes in me?
Cassandra stepped closer, her gaze fierce. "You better win."
Selene folded the letter and slipped it into the pocket of her dress.
"I'm planning to."