He glanced up, meeting Lucille’s unshakable conviction. It was not a challenge, but an invitation to embrace the impossible. Her described future would create uncertainty—an inevitable upheaval of the constraints society bound him with, and a part of him dared to face it with boldness instead of fear. Everything he had worked for would disintegrate, but from the ashes he caught a glimpse of something brighter.
Cedric found himself nodding, another silent promise wedged between the doubts still holding him back.
Then, a chuckle—more of an amused huff—escaped him. He was trained to become a leader, to inspire and command others with confidence, yet those in his care still saw through the blind spots in his vision. Perhaps accepting the gentle—or not so subtle, he thought in mild amusement as Lucille continued to match his stare—reprimands from his subordinates made him weak, but he was grateful all the same for their wisdom.
“Now that all is said and done,” Lucille said, rising from her seat. “We cannot delay any longer. You’ve been summoned to Nin’s quarters.”
Cedric stood at her beckoning hand. “What do you mean?”
“I think it’s best if you just do as I say,” she said, already turning toward the concealed door.
Cedric froze at the threshold of Nin’s chamber.
The queen sat beside Nin at a small table, both women turning their heads in unison as he entered.
His attention ricocheted between them, catching the desperate glint in Nin’s eyes—a silent plea for understanding.
“Sit. We have much to discuss,” she said. It was not an invitation, but a demand, and he graciously complied, taking a seat across from them.
But before his mind could spiral within the silence, the Queen spoke. “I know of your secret,” she said as casually as one would announce the state of the weather. “And not because anyone told me—but because I know my daughter more than you think I do.”
Cedric bowed his head. “I apologize, Your Majesty. I—”
“That’s quite enough,” she interrupted with a raise of her hand. “There is no need for your apologies. I grasp the reasons behind your actions, but the two of you are running out of time. Your lack of cooperation is hindering your progress.”
Cedric blinked. “Excuseme, Your Majesty?”
“I’ve spoken with Nin,” the queen said mildly, “and the longer you work apart, the less you achieve. Therefore, I am ordering you to work together. She is far more capable than you give her credit for.”
The slow simmer of shame crept through him—yet another person had pointed out the error of his thinking within the last seventy-two hours—but he bowed his head in agreement. “Yes, Your Majesty… she is quite remarkable.”
The queen tilted her head, her scrutiny knowing and piercing. “Indeed.”
“Does anyone else know?” he asked, wondering how much damage control he would need to conduct if word spread of his decoy plan.
“No,” the queen said. “I would not endanger my daughter that way.” She inclined her head. “I’ve always trusted your judgment, Cedric—and I trust you will put an end to this plot once and for all.”
He bowed his head again. A clash of relief, a thrill of pride, and determination coursed through his veins. “I will not let you down, Your Majesty.”
The queen rose gracefully. Both Nin and Cedric stood, bowing and curtsying respectively, as she made her way to the door. Before leaving, she paused and glanced over her shoulder.
“And Cedric? Do not forget how much she has been willing to risk for my daughter.”
Chapter twenty-four
Nin and the room seemed to hold their breath together.
Cedric stared at the door long after it clicked shut when the queen made her leave, his mouth set in a thin line. Anticipation of what he would say, the inevitable reprimand, paled compared to the silence sinking into her bones.
“I swear I didn’t tell her,” she said just as he opened his mouth to speak.
“I know.”
“She had summoned me to her quarters and—” Nin blinked suddenly, the realization of what he had said dawning on her. “You… what? You know?”
Cedric nodded, his expression composed as he half-turned to her. The side profile of his dark hair sweeping over his forehead, grazing the golden frames of his spectacles, inspired a pleasant fluttering in her stomach, clashing with the nervous energy buzzing within her.
“So, you’re not angry?” she dared to ask, her fingers twisting the silk at her sides.
