Behind her, Elara curtsied without hesitation. Hale inclined his head. Dex and Fin both offered the measured bow of kings greeting equals, precise and unhurried.

Gav glanced at Hale, received a look that said just bow, and bowed.

The three mages followed, though Maelor’s bow had the energy of a man who was only bowing because the architecture had already humbled him.

The queen rose slowly.

Her steps were nearly soundless as she circled Serena, examining her with the precision of a general studying a battlefield.

She spoke sharply in Morbian Vellum to the king, the cadence clipped, assessing, devoid of warmth.

Fin’s jaw flexed. Dex shifted his weight, barely perceptible.

Serena remained still. Composed. Warm.

When she responded in Morbian Vellum, her tone sounded respectful and steady. She spoke the way you speak to someone you intend to honor, not someone you’re afraid of.

The queen’s expression remained stone. Almost an expression of malice. Almost dislike.

Then the king spoke in perfect common tongue.

"Interesting indeed."

The group tensed.

The queen spoke next. "You are of Frostborne. Your features betray it." She paused, studying Serena the way a woman studies something she wasn’t expecting to see in her lifetime. "Your people are dead. Yet you stand before me."

Behind Serena, Elara inhaled once and held it. Hale’s hand found the small of her back.

Serena’s voice held steady. "Frostborne has fallen, Your Majesty. I stand before you as Drakenfell. Formed by the guidance, shielded by their loyalty, and made strong through their devotion."

"You are no common daughter of Frostborne. You bear crownlines in your veins. You didn’t stand upon its walls as they burned. You didn’t watch your people die."

Gav’s jaw tightened. Beside him, Maelor’s hand curled into a fist at his side, which was surprising, because Maelor didn’t do solidarity.

Serena lowered her head in respect, but her voice remained steady.

"That is where you are wrong, Your Majesty. I stood upon those walls. It happened in my twelfth summer, and I have not lived a day unburdened by it."

The queen studied her with a scrutiny that measured lineage, bearing, and purpose in a single breath. "You are far too young to carry its scars. You saw none burn. So no, you do not understand what it means."

Serena’s voice cracked just once. "I watched my mother’s throat get slit. I assure you, I carry scars, Your Majesty."

The words landed in Dex’s chest like a blade between the ribs and his throat tightened in a way he couldn’t swallow down. She had never said that to him.

Fin was stone beside him. Eyes fixed on Serena’s back. Processing the same thing Dex was: she had been carrying that, alone, the entire time he’d known her.

All color drained from Gav’s face. He glanced at Elara who stood with the stillness of someone who had heard this before. Maybe held her through it.

The queen’s gaze swept over Serena, still cold, still unyielding.

"You are more than a royal bloodline. You are a queen. Heir of Frostborne. Are you not?"

The words left her as a declaration, as though Serena had been attempting to conceal the truth.

Serena swallowed, keeping her composure. "While Frostborne forged me, Drakenfell found me. I am heir of Frostborne, and now Crown Princess of Drakenfell, Your Majesty."

The queen leaned back. Slowly. Her gaze never left Serena’s face, and the longer she looked, the quieter the room became.

"Did you cry when your kingdom burned? Did you beg on your knees like the rest of your weak line?"

"You’re testing me." Serena’s voice didn’t waver. "I understand. But if you’re waiting for me to flinch, you’ll be waiting a long time. I watched my mother die standing. Whatever weakness you’re looking for, you won’t find it in me or my bloodline."

The king chuckled darkly, the sound rumbling through the throne room like distant thunder. "Bold." He leaned forward. "The last person who spoke to my queen like that is buried under this palace."

The threat hung in the air. His eyes moved from Serena to the men standing behind her. "And your wolves? Do they share your spine, or are they decorative?"

"Decorative things break, Your Majesty," she replied. "Nothing behind me breaks."

He leaned forward slightly on his throne, studying Serena with sharp intelligence. His voice carried coded weight. "If I were to say I was a Warden of the Western Sky..."

Serena knew this. She had been taught this by her father years ago. She answered with a small smile, warm but undeniably sad.

"Then I would answer that I am a Keeper of the Eastern Flame, and that neither sky nor flame survive alone."

Silence cracked through the chamber.

The king’s head cocked to one side and he leaned back in his throne. "A king once entered this throne room and promised me his firstborn daughter for my eldest son. In exchange, I offered him a dragon army. But, the king changed his mind and instead, named his daughter his heir, dissolving the arrangement entirely."

His eyes swept over her once. "I can see why Haldor made that decision. You speak like a firstborn son. But decisions have consequences and his people paid for it six years ago."

The king let the silence stretch, his stare heavy and assessing. Then he rose from his chair. "Your father stood where you stand now and gave me his word. His word meant nothing."

He descended one step.

"You now possess the location of my kingdom. Something the entire world believes is a myth. That confidence is either earned or inherited. If it is inherited, your father’s confidence killed his kingdom." He took another step. "Why should I trust a bloodline that has already broken faith with me once? Convince me that you are not your father. And convince me quickly."

Fin felt her resolve flood through their matebond. The kind that doesn’t ask for permission. Whatever she was about to say, he was ready to back it with everything he had.