Even in grief, she brings life to this place.
The ceremonial hall buzzed with hushed conversations that died as they appeared. Draven felt the weight of a hundred stares and heard the sharp intake of breath when Lila walked beside him toward the front of the room. His mother’s casket rested on a raised platform, surrounded by the colorful blooms Lila had suggested.
Queen Serenya looked peaceful in death, her silver-streaked black hair arranged with care and her hands folded over her chest. Draven’s throat tightened as he approached, Lila’s fingers warm in his.
“Goodbye, Mother.” He leaned down to press a kiss to her cold forehead. “I promise to be the king you always knew I could be.”
Beside him, Lila’s quiet sobs echoed his own grief. She’d barely known his mother, yet she mourned with genuine sorrow.
This is what a true queen does—feels the pain of her people as her own.
He guided her to the throne chairs at the front of the hall. When Lila settled into the queen’s chair—his mother’s chair—audible gasps rippled through the crowd. Disapproving whispers followed, but Draven ignored them all.
Let them stare. Let them judge. She belongs here.
The funeral rites began with traditional dragon chants, voices rising and falling in ancient harmonies. Draven held Lila’s hand throughout, drawing strength from her presence. He caught approving nods from Jarek, Nyra, and Lyric, but many faces showed confusion, suspicion, or outright hostility.
Veyra’s expression was carefully neutral, but her pale blue eyes glittered with barely contained fury.
When the ceremony concluded, Draven rose slowly. Every pair of eyes in the room fixed on him. The moment had come.
“My people,” his voice carried the authority of eighteen years of rule, “today we honor Queen Serenya’s memory. But we also look toward the future.”
Murmurs rippled through the crowd. Draven’s hand found Lila’s, pulling her to stand beside him.
“I present to you Lila Reyes, my fated mate and your future queen.”
The hall erupted. Shocked exclamations, angry protests, and confused questions—all blending into chaos. Draven raised his free hand, his voice cutting through the noise.
“We have completed our mate bond. According to our laws and traditions, Lila will undergo the Bondfire Ritual to establish herself officially as queen of the Southern Dragon Dominion.”
Veyra stepped forward, her composure cracking slightly. “Your Majesty, surely this is premature. To announce such momentous news at your mother’s funeral?—”
“My mother knew of my choice and approved.” Draven’s tone brooked no argument. “The mate bond is sacred and cannot be questioned.”
“But she’s human!” someone called from the crowd. “An outsider!”
“She’s been instrumental in stabilizing my condition and my rule,” Draven replied sharply. “My choice is final.”
Veyra’s mask slipped further, revealing the venomous calculation beneath. “Your Majesty, we must consider the political implications. A human queen could destabilize our alliances, create uncertainty?—”
“Are you questioning my judgment, Councilor?” Draven’s voice dropped to a dangerous rumble. “My father chose my mother, who was also considered an outsider by some. Their bond strengthened our kingdom for decades.”
The comparison struck home. Several council members exchanged glances, remembering the prosperity of his parents’ reign.
“Of course not, Your Majesty.” Veyra’s smile was razor-sharp. “I simply worry about the burden you’re placing on Miss Reyes. The responsibilities of queenship are... substantial.”
There it is—the subtle attack wrapped in false concern.
“Lila has already proven her capability,” Draven responded. “She managed royal communications and coordinated with the council during our period of mourning. Her strength and intelligence are beyond question.”
Lyric stepped forward, his weathered face thoughtful. “When will the Bondfire Ritual take place?”
“Three days hence,” Draven announced. “Time enough for preparations and for everyone to witness Lila’s worthiness.”
And time enough to expose Veyra’s treachery before the entire kingdom.
The crowd began to disperse, conversations urgent and heated. Some clutch members approached to offer congratulations, while others maintained a suspicious distance. Veyra lingered near the back of the hall, her expression calculating.
