Chapter 47

The council chamber felt different today.

Aeliana couldn't name it at first, but as she stepped through the towering doors and into the cavernous space, she felt the shift-an undercurrent of tension that hadn't been there before.

It was in the way the nobles sat too still, their gazes lingering too long on Tharx as he entered, in the way whispered conversations halted just a second too late.

Something was coming.

And she wasn't the only one who knew it.

Tharx walked ahead of her, his steps measured, deliberate, his expression carved from stone. If he noticed the tension in the room, he gave no sign of it. But she knew he had.

He had been expecting this.

He took his place at the head of the chamber, the glow of the torches casting long shadows behind his towering frame. The gathered council members bowed in formal acknowledgment, but there was no true reverence in the gesture anymore.

Not from all of them.

Aeliana took her seat near the far end of the room, not quite beside Tharx, but close enough to see everything. Close enough to watch the way some of the nobles shifted uncomfortably, their glances flicking toward one man in particular.

Lord Kaelrith.

She had known his name for weeks now, had watched him weave through court like a predator, always speaking in smooth, measured tones, always watching with sharp, assessing eyes.

And today, it seemed, he had decided to strike.

"My king," Kaelrith began, rising gracefully from his seat. His voice carried through the chamber, smooth and unhurried, laced with something just a shade too polite.

Aeliana's stomach twisted.

"I speak today," Kaelrith continued, "with the utmost respect for your rule. The strength of this empire has endured for centuries, built on the unwavering leadership of its kings."

A pause.

A calculated pause.

And then-the knife.

"But even the strongest of rulers must recognize when the tide begins to turn."

A ripple of unease passed through the chamber.

Kaelrith let it settle, let it breathe.

"The council remains devoted to your reign, of course," he went on, choosing his words carefully, "but there are those who believe the empire has shifted in recent months."

Another pause.

A glance-**too deliberate, too pointed-**in Aeliana's direction.

"The people whisper, my king. They wonder if the choices being made in these halls are truly in the best interest of the empire."

There it was.

The challenge.

Not yet spoken outright, but woven into every syllable.

Aeliana felt her pulse quicken, her eyes flicking toward Tharx.

He hadn't moved.

Hadn't reacted.

But she could see it-the slight tightening of his jaw, the way his fingers flexed just once against the arm of his throne before going still.

Kaelrith wasn't finished.

"We must ask ourselves-" his voice remained calm, controlled, but the room was beginning to lean in now, listening intently. "Can we afford to be distracted when the empire's enemies still gather beyond our borders? When rebellion lingers in the shadows?"

A beat of silence.

Then, the final cut.

"And when the whispers of weakness begin to grow, what will stop them from becoming something more?"

The chamber sat frozen.

Aeliana felt every muscle in her body coil, waiting.

Kaelrith had just done what no noble had dared to do in a century.

He had questioned Tharx.

Not just his rule, but his strength.

She heard the subtle shift of fabric as some nobles turned toward each other, as some of them nodded.

For the first time since she had arrived in this world, she saw it.

Not loyalty.

Doubt.

And Tharx saw it, too.

He stood.

The movement was slow, deliberate.

Aeliana had never seen him need to raise his voice in this chamber, had never seen him do more than cast a glance or speak in his low, authoritative tone.

And yet, in that moment, he was more dangerous than she had ever seen him.

The weight of him alone sent a ripple of unease through the council, the kind that wasn't spoken, but felt.

Tharx didn't speak immediately.

He let them wait.

Let them feel the weight of their own challenge.

Then, finally, he said, softly-too softly:

"Is there one among you who believes they would rule in my place more effectively?"

Aeliana heard the shift in breath, the stiffening of spines, the sudden, careful stillness of the room.

Kaelrith remained composed, but he did not answer.

No one did.

Tharx let the silence stretch, let it become something uncomfortable, something heavy.

Then, he stepped down from the dais, his steps slow, measured.

He passed Kaelrith without so much as a glance.

The message was clear.

The meeting was over.

And yet, the war had begun.

Aeliana barely made it halfway down the corridor before she felt the presence behind her.

"You've seen it now," Tharx said.

His voice was controlled, but she knew better. She could feel the fury beneath it.

She turned, her anger coiled tight inside her.

"They're turning against you," she said.

Tharx's golden eyes burned, but his answer was instant. "Let them."

Aeliana's nails dug into her palms. "You can't just ignore this. You've always ruled by force, but if you lose the council-"

Tharx took a single step forward, and suddenly he was too close.

"I decide the fate of this empire," he said, slow, deliberate.

His presence was suffocating. Dangerous.

"Not them."

Aeliana swallowed hard.

But she didn't back down.

"And if they decide yours first?" she whispered.

For the first time, Tharx had no immediate answer.

And that terrified her more than anything.