The room hummed with hushed murmurs, the tension a thick, cloying presence in the air. The nobility of the Summerlands sat in stunned silence as King Casimir slowly rose to his feet. His amber gaze swept across the assembled court, his expression unreadable—a lion surveying his den.
Caroline remained still, her fingers curled lightly around the golden stem of her goblet. She knew what was coming. And yet, she had not expected him to announce it like this.
Casimir placed his hands on the table, his voice ringing with quiet authority.
"There was an attack last night."
A ripple of shock passed through the room. Some nobles shifted uncomfortably; others sat frozen, waiting.
Casimir's gaze was razor-sharp. "It was an attempt on my wife's life."
Silence.
Utter, stunned silence.
Then—Lady Seraphina's goblet hit the table with a sharp clink.
Caroline did not turn toward her. She didn't need to.
Seraphina was reeling.
Casimir let the weight of his words settle before continuing. "Yes. You heard me correctly. I have married Princess Caroline of the Winter Court." His tone darkened, daring anyone to object. "She is now your queen."
More gasps. A few nobles cast wary glances at each other, while others struggled to keep their shock from showing.
Seraphina, however, was white as a sheet.
Caroline finally turned her head just enough to catch the woman's expression. Shock. Dismay. Defeat.
Seraphina's lips parted slightly, but no words came. For the first time, she was at a loss.
Caroline did not smile, but oh, how she wanted to.
Casimir, ignoring the court's stunned reaction, leaned back against the grand oak chair, utterly unfazed. "Everything is under control," he continued. "The palace is heavily guarded. The threat has been dealt with." His gaze flickered, just for a moment, toward Dorian Vale, who stood near the back of the room, his arms crossed, his face unreadable.
"And so," Casimir declared, lifting his goblet, "there will be a celebration."
The murmurs grew louder.
"A coronation," Casimir clarified, "for the new Queen of the Summerlands."
The silence that followed was absolute.
Caroline felt the weight of a hundred gazes pressing against her skin. The realization was sinking in. This was no temporary arrangement.
Casimir had just cemented her place permanently.
For the first time since arriving in the Summer Palace, Caroline felt something other than apprehension.
Power.
She lifted her goblet in silent acceptance, her gaze never leaving Seraphina's.
The woman was struggling to mask her fury, but Caroline saw it.
And oh, how sweet it was.
The room erupted into a cacophony of gasps, whispers, and murmured protests. Nobles exchanged stunned glances, some leaning toward their companions in disbelief, while others remained frozen in silence.
"Married?" came a sharp voice from the left side of the table.
Lord Edrich of House Marwood, a stout man with graying hair and a hawkish nose, rose to his feet, his expression a mask of incredulity. "Your Majesty, surely you jest. A private wedding, with no witnesses from the court?" His eyes flickered toward Caroline with a mixture of suspicion and disdain. "And to a foreign princess, no less?"
Casimir did not so much as blink. "Would you like to question my word, Lord Marwood?"
A heavy silence fell.
The noble clenched his jaw but slowly lowered himself back into his seat. "Of course not, my King," he muttered.
Across the table, another voice chimed in.
"Your Majesty, with all due respect," said Lady Isolde of House Ferndale, a tall, elegant woman with braided silver hair, "this is a… delicate matter. The nobles of the Summerlands have long expected a marriage that would strengthen our ties within our own kingdom. A queen from the Winter Court—" she hesitated, her eyes flickering toward Caroline, "is an… unexpected choice."
Caroline lifted her chin but remained silent, watching.
Casimir, however, exhaled sharply, setting his goblet down with a thud.
"Unexpected?" he mused. "Perhaps. But necessary." He let his gaze sweep across the room, his voice turning cold. "Did you all forget why this union was arranged?"
The nobles shifted uneasily.
"An attack was made on my wife's life last night," Casimir continued, his voice darkening, "and I have no doubt that there are forces within this very court who would rather see her dead than crowned Queen."
A few nobles had the audacity to look away, guilt flickering in their eyes.
Caroline did not miss it.
Casimir leaned forward, his tone laced with authority. "Make no mistake. She is your Queen now. Her coronation will take place as planned, and anyone who dares to speak against it…" He let the threat hang, a slow, predatory smile curling at his lips. "…can take their grievances to the executioner."
The weight of his words settled like boulder in the room.
The murmurs quieted.
Then, from the far side of the table, a soft, sharp laugh.
Caroline turned just in time to see Seraphina lift her goblet, amusement playing across her sharp features. "How unexpected, indeed," she murmured, taking a slow sip of her wine.
Her face was still pale, her fingers curled just a little too tightly around the goblet's stem. But she masked it well.
Caroline smiled ever so slightly.
Seraphina was furious.
And yet, she said nothing more.
Casimir let the silence stretch before standing to his full height. "We will move forward as planned."
He turned his gaze on Caroline then, and for the first time in the entire exchange, his expression softened—just a fraction. "The Summerlands has its Queen."
Caroline met his gaze, her heart hammering.
She had been forced into this marriage.
But now, as she watched the nobles grapple with their new reality—as she watched Seraphina struggle to conceal her anger—she realized something.
She may have been given this crown against her will.
But what she did with it?
That would be entirely her choice.