{Third Person}
Amara had already understood that much clearly. This was not a concern.
It was a set-up, a way to make her speak—to shape the narrative through her own words.
For a while, Amara said nothing. She just sat there thinking of a way to manoeuvre the situation before finally breaking the silence, choosing her words carefully.
"His Highness did not harm . I was frightened, yes, but nothing happened," she replied, her voice calm despite the attention on her.
There was a slight shift in the room. This wasn’t the answer they were expecting.
Lysandra’s smile remained, but sothing in her eyes cooled. "I see," she said slowly. "But losing control to that extent... breaking into your room..."
She tilted her head slightly. "That is not sothing one simply dismisses, is it?"
Amara held her gaze this ti. "It was not intentional," she said. "His Highness was not in his right state."
Another pause followed as Lysandra leaned back slightly, her fingers tapping lightly against the table.
"And yet, one must wonder what might happen next ti," she said, almost thoughtfully.
That was all it took.
The others began to speak in soft voices at first, then more loudly.
"Oh, how frightening..."
"You must be very careful..."
"A man like that... one never knows..."
"What if next ti he does not stop?"
Amara blinked, caught off guard by how quickly the tone of the room had shifted.
They were not asking anymore. They were concluding, shaping and turning sothing that had already ended into sothing ongoing, dangerous, and inevitable.
One of the concubines leaned slightly forward, her expression filled with what looked like sympathy.
"You should be cautious. Even if he did not hurt you this ti... there is no guarantee for the future," she said gently.
Another nodded. "A curse like that... it makes people unpredictable."
"Violent," soone added quietly.
Amara sat there, montarily stunned. Not by the words themselves, but by how easily they were spoken and how naturally they twisted what had happened into sothing else entirely.
Her fingers curled slightly in her lap. For a mont, she didn’t even know how to respond. And then, a voice cut through.
"That is enough."
It wasn’t loud, but it didn’t need to be.
Elowen set her cup down, her gaze sweeping across the table before settling, firm and unyielding.
"My brother is not what you are trying to make him seem," she said, her tone steady.
The room quieted imdiately.
"Elowen," Lysandra began, but she did not stop.
"He has not always been like this," Elowen continued. "And you all know that."
Her words hung in the air. Then, slowly, her gaze shifted and landed on Julia. It was not subtle. Not at all.
Julia stiffened almost imdiately, her expression faltering for the briefest second before she composed herself again. But it was enough for the shift to be felt and enough for Amara to notice.
Amara’s eyes followed Elowen’s line of sight from Elowen to Julia. And in that mont, sothing clicked. A quiet realization, not complete, but enough to form a question.
’His curse...’ Her gaze lingered on Julia just a second longer. ’...does it have sothing to do with her?’
The thought settled quietly in her mind, unanswered, but no longer ignorable.
A tense, heavy, uncomfortable silence spread across the room. Lysandra moved imdiately. She could not allow that direction to continue.
"That is enough," she said calmly, her tone reclaiming control without raising her voice. "We are not here to revisit old matters."
Her gaze flicked briefly toward Elowen, a silent warning beneath the composed surface. Then, just as smoothly, she shifted the atmosphere.
"The main dishes have arrived," she announced.
As if on cue, the servants stepped forward, placing more als before each of them with practiced precision.
"Let us eat," Lysandra continued, lifting her utensils. "There is no need to dampen the morning further."
The tension was contained for now.
And as the room slowly resud movent, Amara sat quietly, her thoughts no longer on the food before her, but on everything she had just learned.
---
The shift from the dining hall to the garden did little to ease the tension. If anything, it changed its shape.
The garden behind the Queen’s palace was breathtaking—wide, carefully cultivated, and blooming with colours that seed almost too perfect to be natural.
Marble pathways curved through beds of flowers, and a shaded pavilion had been prepared for the gathering, with low tables and cushioned seats arranged in a careful circle.
It looked serene. But the mont the won settled, the undercurrent returned.
Amara took her seat quietly, aware of where she had been placed once again—not too far, not too close, but positioned where she could be seen without being central.
Elowen sat within comfortable distance, while Julia and Yara remained across from her.
The King’s concubine, however, drew attention without effort.
She settled into her seat with slow care, one hand resting lightly over her stomach again, as though the gesture had beco second nature.
The servants moved around her with noticeable attentiveness, adjusting her cushions and offering her refreshnts before anyone else.
It was not subtle, and it was not missed.
"I must admit that it isn’t easy carrying a new life," the concubine said after a mont, her tone gentle but carrying clearly.
A few won turned toward her, offering polite smiles.
She continued, her fingers brushing lightly over her abdon. "His Majesty has been very attentive. He insists I rest more, eat well... he worries constantly."
There was a faint glow of pride in her expression now. "It seems this child has already captured his full attention."
The words settled into the space between them.
Amara’s gaze flicked, almost instinctively, toward Lysandra. The Queen’s expression did not change, but sothing in her eyes hardened for just a fraction of a second before smoothing over completely.
"Yes. It is only natural," Lysandra said calmly. Her tone was even.
Amara noticed it imdiately, and it puzzled her because this was not the Queen she had co to know.
Lysandra did not yield space easily. She did not allow others to dominate a room, much less in her own presence. And yet now, she allowed it... tolerated it, and even endured it.
Amara’s brows drew together slightly as the thought ford. ’Why would she let this happen?’
Her gaze lingered briefly on the concubine before returning to Lysandra. There were very few people who could force the Queen to restrain herself. The King, the Alpha Prince. And now perhaps this woman.
Amara’s mind shifted quietly. ’Does she have sothing over the Queen...?’
The thought lingered, unanswered, yet it refused to leave.
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