Queen.
The word followed me like a curse.
I found myself in what must have been a receiving hall. Tall windows let in streams of dusty light. Portraits lined the walls. Every previous king and queen was represented, now dead. Their legacies reduced to canvas and fading paint.
I stopped in the center of the room. Turned slowly, taking in the grandeur, the history, and the weight of everything these walls represented.
A palace. A crown. A kingdom.
And me, a girl who was barely considered better than livestock.
The crown felt heavier than battle ever did.
Fighting, I understood. Survival made sense. But this? Standing in gilded halls while people expected me to rule them, to make decisions that would shape their lives?
How was I supposed to do that? I knew about the crushing weight of responsibility, but recognition was something unfamiliar.
Queens were supposed to be wise. Dignified. Born into power and trained from childhood to wield it.
I was none of those things.
I’d never wanted power. Never dreamed of thrones or crowns or authority over others. I wanted freedom. I wanted to live without fear.
Instead, I stood in a palace.
Footsteps approached from the doorway. Quiet. Measured. Instantly recognizable.
“You don’t have to run,” Daemon said.
“I’m not running.” I didn’t turn around. “I’m thinking.”
“Looked like running from where I stood.”
“Maybe thinking looks like running when you’re moving away from a crowd.”
His footsteps drew closer. Stopped a few paces behind me.
“Seris.”
The gentleness in his voice hurt worse than the accusation would have.
I closed my eyes. “I don’t belong here.”
“Where do you belong?”
“I don’t know.” The admission scraped my throat raw. “But not in a palace. Not wearing a crown. Not making decisions thatcould destroy or save thousands based on whether I guess right or wrong.”
“That’s what ruling is,” Daemon said quietly. “Making impossible choices with incomplete information and hoping you don’t damn everyone in the process.”
“Then why would anyone want it?”
“Some want the power. Others accept the responsibility because someone has to.” He moved closer. I felt his presence at my shoulder, solid and grounding. “You know which kind my father was. You’ve seen what the throne became under the wrong hands.”
I opened my eyes, staring at the empty dais. “I never wanted power over anyone.”
“I know.”
“I wanted to survive. To stop being hunted. To live without being a weapon or a threat or a thing people used for their own purposes.” My voice cracked. “Not to rule them.”
