The Trial of Worth was scheduled for dawn.
Which was, in Heidi Brooks' professional opinion, already a crime.
She stared at the ceiling of her chambers as pale light crept in, groaning softly. "If I die before breakfast," she muttered, "I will haunt everyone involved."
The maids hovering nearby stiffened in terror.
One dared to speak. "My lady… are you frightened?"
Heidi considered the question seriously.
Outside, the palace hummed—low, tense, alive. The same hum she had felt since arriving, now louder, impatient. As if something beneath the stones was waiting.
"I think," she said finally, sitting up and stretching, "I'm more annoyed than scared."
That was the truth. Fear required energy. And Heidi Brooks hated expending energy unnecessarily.
Lucian arrived without announcement.
The doors opened, shadows pulling back for him like obedient servants. He looked as if he hadn't slept—eyes darker, jaw tight, power coiled beneath his skin like a storm barely contained.
The maids dropped to their knees and fled.
Heidi smiled at him. "Good morning. You look like you're planning a massacre."
"I am," he said. "Depending on how this goes."
She patted the bed beside her. "Come sit. You're vibrating."
"I should not be here," he replied, but he came anyway.
The mattress dipped under his weight.
For a moment, neither spoke.
"I can stop this," Lucian said quietly. "Even now."
She swung her legs over the side of the bed. "By killing half the court?"
"Yes."
"Tempting," she admitted. "But then they'll just write songs about how I ruined the empire."
He looked at her—really looked. "You do not understand what they intend."
She met his gaze. "Then explain it to me."
Lucian inhaled slowly.
"The Trial of Worth was created to eliminate threats to the throne without bloodshed," he said. "It is designed so that outsiders fail."
"And die?"
"Sometimes."
Heidi hummed. "Rude."
"They will test your body," he continued. "Your mind. Your soul."
"My soul?" she echoed. "I barely use that."
A ghost of a smile flickered across his face—and vanished.
"There is something in you," Lucian said. "Something ancient. The palace feels it. The altar felt it."
She frowned. "Everyone keeps saying that."
"Because it is true."
He reached out, hesitated, then took her hand.
"If you step into that trial," he said, voice low, "you step into power that does not forgive weakness."
She squeezed his fingers. "Good thing I'm stubborn."
His grip tightened. "I cannot lose you."
The words landed heavier than any declaration.
Her chest warmed painfully.
"Lucian," she said softly, "I'm not doing this to be queen."
"I know."
"I'm doing it," she continued, "because if I don't stand, they'll never stop coming for me. Or for you."
His eyes darkened.
"And because," she added lightly, "I refuse to be chased out of the comfiest palace I've ever lived in."
He exhaled, something like a laugh breaking through the tension.
Then he leaned in, forehead resting briefly against hers.
"Come back to me," he murmured.
Her breath caught. "I haven't gone anywhere yet."
The Trial took place beneath the palace.
Deep beneath.
The court gathered at the edge of an ancient cavern carved into black stone, lit by ghostly blue flames. Symbols etched into the walls pulsed faintly as Heidi stepped forward.
The nobles watched with barely concealed anticipation.
Prince-Regent Alaric stood near the front, smiling like a man already counting victories.
Lucian stood apart.
Still. Silent.
Terrifying.
"The Trial of Worth," the High Chancellor intoned, "tests whether one is fit to stand beside the throne. Step forward, Lady Heidi Brooks."
Heidi yawned.
Then walked into the circle.
The moment she crossed the boundary, the air shifted.
The hum became a roar.
The ground trembled.
The symbols flared.
Gasps echoed as a column of light slammed down around her, sealing her inside.
Lucian's hands curled into fists.
Do not touch her, he thought—and something beneath the palace listened.
The first trial was physical.
The floor vanished.
Heidi dropped.
"RUDE—!"
She landed hard, rolling, coming up coughing in a stone chamber where shadow-creatures crawled from the walls—limbs wrong, eyes glowing.
"Oh," she said. "That's unfortunate."
They lunged.
She ran.
Not gracefully. Not heroically.
She ran like someone late to nap.
The creatures were fast. Claws scraped stone inches from her heels.
"Okay," she puffed, "new plan—!"
She skidded around a corner, heart pounding, and slammed into an invisible barrier.
The hum surged.
Her chest burned.
Instinct—old and unasked for—rose.
"Stop," she said.
The word rang.
The creatures froze mid-lunge, bodies shuddering as if caught in invisible chains.
Heidi stared at her hands. "…Huh."
The barrier dissolved.
The creatures crumbled into ash.
Above, the court erupted.
"That's impossible—!"
Lucian's breath left him in a sharp exhale.
The second trial was mental.
Illusions.
She stood suddenly in her family's estate.
Her mother's smile warm. Her father's voice proud. Her siblings laughing.
"Come home," they said. "You don't belong there."
The temptation hit harder than the monsters.
Heidi's chest ached.
"I do belong here," she whispered.
Lucian appeared in the illusion—bloodied, broken, reaching for her.
"Run," he begged. "Live."
Tears burned her eyes.
"No," she said, voice shaking. "I won't leave you."
The illusion shattered.
The final trial was the soul.
Darkness closed in.
A voice spoke—not cruel, not kind.
Why do you want the crown?
"I don't," Heidi answered honestly.
Then why do you stand?
She thought of Lucian's eyes. Of his loneliness. Of the way the palace breathed around her.
"Because he stands alone," she said. "And I don't want him to anymore."
Silence.
Then warmth.
Light poured through her, not burning—but recognizing.
The cavern shook violently.
The seals exploded outward.
Heidi stumbled forward as the barrier shattered, collapsing into Lucian's arms.
He caught her without hesitation, holding her tightly, as if she might vanish.
The court stared in horror.
The symbols carved into the cavern walls flared—then bowed.
The palace itself seemed to sigh.
The High Chancellor dropped to his knees. "The trial… accepted her."
Alaric's smile cracked.
Lucian lifted Heidi's chin, eyes searching. "Are you alive?"
She smiled weakly. "Barely. I hate exercise."
Relief crashed through him—raw, unfiltered.
He pulled her closer, forehead to forehead.
"My empress," he whispered before he could stop himself.
The court heard.
And in that moment, as outrage and fear rippled outward, Heidi realized—
She had not survived the trial.
She had awakened it.
And the empire would never forgive her for it.