CHAPTER 18 Aug 14, 2025 The Queen summoned me the next morning. No guards. No fuss. Just a knock and a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. She poured me tea like we were old friends. Like I hadn't just stood in a cursed vault with her son hours before. "You've been exploring," she said lightly, stirring sugar into her cup. "The East Wing has always attracted the curious." I froze, fingers wrapped tight around the porcelain. "I was only-" "You were only doing what girls like you always do," she interrupted smoothly. "Looking for a reason to believe you matter." Her voice was calm, but each word struck with precision, like she'd been waiting for this moment. I didn't move. I didn't blink. "He told you, didn't he?" she continued, too casually. "Poor thing. You think love can fix what blood cannot." My throat burned. "I never said I loved him." "No," she said, lips curling at the edges. "But I see it in your eyes." She leaned back in her chair, her gown spilling around her like ink. "You think his feelings for you can protect you. But they can't." I tried to steady my breathing. The tea in my cup had gone cold, but I didn't dare set it down. Not yet. "You think you've uncovered something sacred," she mused, tapping her cup once against its saucer. "But what you've seen is a curse. And curses don't love back." "You don't get to decide what I believe," I said quietly. She smiled, eyes narrowing just a fraction. "Belief is a luxury, Marianne. One you can't afford. Not here. Not with him." Her words sank deep, coiling through my ribs like vines. I didn't speak. Not because I agreed-but because she wasn't finished. "He won't choose you," she said. "Not in the end. He'll try to protect you by letting you go. Like he always does. That is the kindest version of his curse." I clenched the cup so tightly I thought it might crack. "You act like he's already lost. Like he has no choice." "Oh, he has choices," she said, her voice smooth as silk. "But they are not the kind you'd recognize. When he lets you go, it won't be because he wants to. It will be because I asked him to. Or because he knows what happens if he doesn't." I swallowed the lump rising in my throat. "You think fear is strength." "I think survival is," she countered, leaning forward. "You still don't understand what it means to rule." "You think I can't handle him?" I asked, jaw tight. "I think you don't know what you're trying to handle," she said, too gently. "You don't know what that curse is made of. You think it's tragedy, romance, redemption. It's not. It's ruin. And it doesn't care who you are." I shook my head. "He's more than his curse." "For now," she said, sipping her tea. "Until it asks for more than he can give. Until it asks for your blood." I stood, the chair scraping against the rug. My voice trembled, but I didn't let it falter. "He gets to decide what he becomes. Not you." The Queen didn't rise. She didn't raise her voice. She just looked at me like I was something breakable she had already counted as lost. "If he doesn't let you go-" she said, her voice like frost in a garden, "-I will. And you should thank me, really." Her words hit harder than a slap. My throat burned. I couldn't breathe, let alone speak. Two guards stepped forward from the shadows. I hadn't even heard her summon them. "Take her," she said. "Gently, if she behaves." My stomach turned. I took a step back. "He'll come looking for me." She didn't blink. "He'll be told you left. On your own. That you couldn't handle it. That you chose to disappear." I shook my head. "You can't-" "Oh, but I can," she said, her smile thin. "And he'll believe it. Because that's what grief does. It makes lies easier to swallow."