Moonlight streaked through the glass dome, pale and icy against the marble floor. It washed over Princess Agnes Viremont where she sat curled into herself on a velvet chaise, shoulders trembling, face blotched and streaked with furious tears.
Her hands clutched the hem of her night robe, as if it might unravel if she let go.
"He didn't even try to lie," she whispered, voice hoarse and shaking. "Didn't even pretend it wasn't because of her."
A crystal tumbler shattered on the hearth.
Queen Bellatrix Drakenfell stood beside the fire, one hand trembling. The flame danced higher behind her, as if it recognized the pulse of her fury.
"Of course it was because of her," Queen Bellatrix said, calm like poison. "That girl is the kind men think they are in love with. But they aren't thinking at all, letting their cock decide."
Agnes's chin snapped up. "She's not even beautiful." Her voice cracked. "Her hair looks like it should be washed in a stable. Her face—" she broke off, breath catching. "He looked at me like I was an afterthought."
Bellatrix walked slowly toward her, every step precise, controlled.
"She comes from the gutter," the Queen said coolly. "From chains. From filth. She was raised in the shadows and dragged herself into light not meant for her. You were born in it. You are royalty. You were raised for this throne. For him."
Agnes clenched her jaw. "He didn't care."
"No," Bellatrix said softly. "Because men are fools. All of them. I've seen it. I've lived it. My king married me out of duty. But his heart..."
Her voice turned brittle.
"His heart belonged to another. A weak, simpering woman who gave him nothing but a dream and a dead legacy."
She reached down and cupped Agnes's chin, forcing the girl's tear-soaked eyes to meet hers.
"I was humiliated once too. I watched from a throne while my husband ached for a ghost. But I did not cry on a chaise like a broken girl."
Agnes's eyes flared. "What would you have me do? Smile? Attend the war council while she sits next to him like a crowned goddess? While dragons bow to her?"
Bellatrix's lips curled into something feral. "No. I would have you win."
She released her and turned away, shoulders squared.
"She may have his attention. She may have a dragon bond. But that doesn't make her untouchable. She's untrained. Unpolished. Ignorant of court politics. She's likely illiterate and the type to whore herself to the highest bidder. She will make a fool of herself, just wait."
Agnes swallowed. The rage was returning. The good kind. Hot. Clean. Purposeful.
Bellatrix's voice was velvet wrapped in iron. "Let her shine. Let them all stare. But understand this: I will not let the fate of kingdoms hinge on some glowing orphan slut who couldn't tell a council decree from a dinner invitation."
The Queen turned fully now, gaze sharp enough to slice.
"You, Agnes, are the daughter of legacy. Of command. She will never understand what that means."
Agnes's breath steadied. Her tears dried.
"So don't fret, little lioness," Bellatrix said, stepping back into the fire's reach. "Let fate have its moment. Then we will end it."
She smiled. And it was not a kind smile.
"He will do as I say."