CHAPTER 306: A MEETING II

If my room looked like a Queen’s room, this was surely how a goddess’ room would look. The sheer splendor made my breath catch for a heartbeat before I forced it even again, not wanting to appear awestruck.

Gold and ivory spilled across the chamber like a painting come alive. The walls were high, impossibly so, their surfaces inlaid with intricate mosaics of gemstones that glimmered faintly in the lamplight.

Diamonds caught at the corners, reflecting prismatic shards across the floor, while veins of silver traced patterns like constellations along the ceiling. Drapes of velvet the color of midnight cascaded from windows tall enough to swallow me whole, their hems embroidered with threads of starlight.

The bed was massive, almost ridiculous in its size, carved from dark wood polished to a mirror sheen. Its canopy was woven silk, translucent and layered, giving the illusion that the Queen slept each night beneath captured moonlight. Piles of cushions and furs overflowed from it, so lush that one could sink in and never find the floor again.

At one end of the chamber sat a vanity crafted entirely from crystal, its mirror framed with pearls that pulsed with faint magic. At the other, a marble hearth burned with blue fire that gave no smoke, filling the room with warmth and fragrance of crushed herbs.

And then, there—the thing that pulled my gaze like a moth to flame. An open door revealed a personal library, not vast, but intimate. Shelves groaned beneath old tomes and new scrolls, each bound with runes that hummed softly. A desk cluttered with parchment and ink lay at the center, and I swore I could see a fresh quill abandoned mid-word.

My heart tightened with curiosity. The Queen had been writing. Notes? Strategies? Secrets?

I wondered, fleetingly, if I could make it there in record time, pluck just a line, a phrase, before anyone noticed.

But even as the thought bloomed, the Queen stepped out from the adjoining room.

Gone was her silken sleeping robe. Now she wore a gown simple yet steeped in luxury, the fabric smooth as water, white with faint golden trim that caught the light. It clung without ostentation, flowed without drag. She moved like she owned the floor itself, every motion measured, deliberate.

She didn’t go to her grand bed, but instead lowered herself into a sofa opposite me, eyes sharp as blades though her lips curved faintly.

"Why are you late?" she asked.

I let a mischievous glint spark in my eyes, leaning back as though perfectly at ease. "Raul kept me busy," I said with deliberate casualness, the corner of my mouth quirking as I threw in a wink.

The Queen’s head shook almost instantly, but the movement was betrayed by the small smile tugging at her lips. A mother’s exasperation tempered by affection—it softened her, though only briefly.

I studied her as much as she studied me. Once upon a time, months before my self-imposed exile, we had been little more than wary allies. Distrust had been the language between us then, each word weighed for threat, each glance edged.

But now... now it felt different. Now we spoke not as enemies or strangers, but something closer to friends—or at least co-conspirators who had begun to learn each other’s rhythms.

It unsettled me, almost as much as it steadied me.

I tapped a finger against my knee, my thoughts flitting like restless birds. Why this meeting? Why now? Was it to clarify my standing? To test my loyalty? Or was it finally the start of what I had been waiting for—the mission itself?

Her eyes lingered on me with a quiet warning before she spoke again. "Take care of Raul," she said, her voice dipped with seriousness now. "He will be needed in what comes. I do not want to hear of a break between you two."

I tilted my head, letting a smile bloom, deliberately coy. "Oh, you won’t. I promise you, Raul is very well taken care of." I let the innuendo dangle in the air like bait, and sure enough, her lips twitched, though she refused to take it.

"I’m serious, Sage."

"As am I, my Queen." I answered, softer this time, though the laughter still sparkled in my gaze. "You have nothing to worry about."

Then I leaned forward, folding my hands neatly, letting my eyes fix on her with an unflinching candor. "But enough of Raul. Why am I here? The nobles were... not pleased, to say the least. I could hear their hissing, could hear their dissatisfaction. They don’t seem happy about your choice for Raul."

The Queen scoffed outright, the sound sharp, dismissive. "The nobles are gnats. Their displeasure means nothing to me. Let them buzz. I do what I must."

Her tone clipped the air like scissors, but after a heartbeat, it softened again, her eyes focusing wholly on me. "You are here because it is time."

The words dropped like stones into a still pond, sending ripples racing through my chest.

"The mission," she continued, her tone low, deliberate, each syllable deliberate as if to drive it into me. "It begins in two days. The celebration of the Goddess comes again, and with it, the combat contests. Since the triplets took the rule from their father, they have turned the games into something else entirely. They have opened the contests to strangers from every corner of the world. They call it... entertainment. They call it strength." Her mouth twisted. "I call it a ploy for chaos, a show of pride."

I folded my arms, brows raised, feigning a casualness that warred with the coil of excitement tightening in my chest.

"There are rewards," she added, "meant to bait both fools and warriors alike. Gold. Land. Honor. But the truth is simpler: it is a blood sport. And this year, Sage..." Her eyes pierced into mine, sharp enough to cut. "You will participate."

The words settled into me with the inevitability of a prophecy fulfilled.

She leaned forward slightly, her gown whispering against the sofa. "Are you up to the task?"

I let silence hang for just a breath too long, then let a slow smile stretch across my lips. Mischievous, sly, certain. "Up to the task?" I echoed, tilting my head. "This is what I’ve been training for."

Memories flickered—nights under Freda’s harsh eyes, mornings of bruised skin and aching muscles, afternoons where magic singed my fingertips raw. She had made sure my training was not just in spellcraft, but also in combat, forcing me to blend them until they became seamless, instinctive.

I had learned not to rely on any external force. Not even El, who had been absent, hauntingly so, ever since that night.

I straightened my back, confidence radiating, my eyes locked with the Queen’s. "Tell me when and where, and I’ll be there. They won’t know what hit them."

Her lips curved, satisfaction glinting there. And in that moment, I knew that the waiting was over.

The game was about to begin.