"If we continue this," I murmur against her mouth, "we'll miss the audience entirely."
She laughs, pulling back reluctantly. "And give Lord Aiden exactly what he wants—more time to sow discord among our people." Her expression sobers. "We can't afford that, can we?"
"No." I straighten, adjusting my own crown—a heavier, more ornate piece that I usually avoid wearing but which serves an important purpose today. "Though after this is settled, I plan to spend at least a day with you in this chamber, making you cry my name until your voice gives out."
Her blush deepens, but the heat in her eyes matches my own. "A promise I'll hold you to, my king."
We make our way to the great hall, side by side, guards flanking us at a respectful distance. The corridors are unusually quiet, all non-essential personnel having been cleared from the castle as a precaution against potential infiltrators.
Outside the great hall, I pause, turning to her one last time. "Remember—at the first sign of trouble, you go with Callum. No arguments, no hesitation."
"And leave you to face danger alone?" She shakes her head. "That's not how this works, Lachlan. Not anymore."
"Fiona—"
"No." She places her hand on my cheek, her touch gentle but her expression unyielding. "I am your queen. Your partner. I stand with you, not behind you. If there's danger, we face it together."
I want to argue, to insist on her safety above all else. But the determination in her eyes tells me it would be futile. More thanthat, it would dishonor the woman she's become—the queen who chooses to rule beside me rather than submit beneath me.
"Together, then," I concede, covering her hand with mine. "But promise me you'll be careful."
"I promise." She rises on tiptoe to press a quick kiss to my lips. "Now, let's remind these lords exactly who rules this kingdom."
The great hall falls silent as we enter, all eyes turning to watch our approach. The border lords stand in a loose cluster at the center of the room, their expressions ranging from openly hostile to carefully neutral. Behind them, their guards shift nervously under the watchful gaze of my own men, who line the walls with hands resting on sword hilts.
Lord Aiden stands at the forefront, a slight man with calculating eyes and a mouth that seems perpetually twisted in displeasure. Beside him is a younger lord I recognize as Edgar's nephew—a distant relation to Fiona who clearly hopes to improve his position through this rebellion.
We take our seats on the twin thrones at the head of the hall, and I note with satisfaction how naturally Fiona assumes her position—back straight, chin lifted, every inch the queen despite the youth still evident in her features.
"My lords," I begin, my voice carrying easily through the hushed hall. "You requested this audience. Speak your piece."
Lord Aiden steps forward, offering a bow that's just shallow enough to be insulting. "We come on behalf of the eastern territories, Your Majesty." The title drips with sarcasm. "To express our concern for the welfare of Princess Fiona and her father, the rightful king of these lands."
"Former king," I correct, keeping my tone mild though my hand tightens on the arm of my throne. "And the queen—not princess—sits beside me, as you can plainly see."
Aiden's gaze shifts to Fiona, his expression one of false sympathy. "Your Highness, we understand the... difficult position you've been placed in. Forced to marry your conqueror, to share his bed, to wear his crown. We've come to offer you liberation from this captivity."
A murmur runs through the hall, eyes turning to Fiona with undisguised curiosity. I resist the urge to speak for her, to shut down Aiden's insinuations with force. This is her moment, her challenge to meet.
Fiona rises slowly from her throne, her expression serene despite the insult inherent in Aiden's words. "Lord Aiden," she begins, her voice clear and steady. "I appreciate your concern for my welfare. Truly, I do. But I fear you labor under a misapprehension."
She steps forward, descending the shallow steps that raise the thrones above the main floor. I tense, fighting every instinct that screams at me to keep her safely at my side. But I remain seated, allowing her this display of independence, of strength.
"I am not a captive," she continues, moving closer to the gathered lords. "I am a queen. Chosen by my husband, yes, but also choosing him in return. The union of our kingdoms brings strength, stability, and prosperity that benefits all our people—including those in the eastern territories."
"Pretty words," Aiden says, his tone dismissive. "No doubt rehearsed under threat of punishment if you deviate."
Fiona's laugh is genuinely amused, surprising even me with its warmth. "Do I look threatened to you, my lord? Do I speak like a woman living in fear?"
She turns, addressing the entire gathering rather than just Aiden. "I know some of you fought against this marriage. Some of you may still resent the union of our kingdoms. But look around you." She gestures to the hall, to the castle beyond. "Where is the suffering you predicted? Where is the tyranny youfeared? Our people are fed, protected, governed with wisdom I have witnessed firsthand."
Her gaze returns to Aiden, hardening slightly. "What I cannot abide—what I will not allow—is violence committed in my name. The attack on the southern village was an act of cowardice that dishonors everything my family has stood for. If you truly wish to serve me, you will lay down your arms and pledge fealty to your king. To both your rulers."
The hall is silent when she finishes, her words hanging in the air like a challenge. I can see the impact they have on some of the younger lords, their expressions shifting from skepticism to consideration. But Aiden's face has darkened with barely contained fury.
"So the rumors are true," he says, his voice dripping with disgust. "You've fallen under his spell. Become his willing whore rather than his reluctant bride."
I'm on my feet before the last word leaves his mouth, sword half-drawn, rage burning through my veins. But Fiona's hand shoots up, stopping me with a gesture as surely as if she'd physically restrained me.
