Chapter 14
The council stopped pretending.
At dawn, the eastern gates of the palace were sealed.
Not ceremonially. Not publicly. Quietly, with the efficiency of men who believed the law had already bent in their favor. Messengers were turned away. Trade officials delayed. Even the inner courtyards felt tighter, as though the palace had drawn its breath and decided not to release it.
Aurelia noticed first through absence.
The sounds she had come to recognize—vendors in the distance, the steady movement of guards during shift change—were muted. When she stepped onto the balcony, the city beyond looked unchanged, but she felt the separation keenly.
They had cut the palace off.
Not from the world.
From accountability.
Kael received the report without visible reaction. He stood at the center of the strategy chamber, hands resting on the table, eyes fixed on nothing in particular.
"They've invoked emergency authority," he said. "Claimed instability."
Aurelia crossed the room slowly. "Meaning?"
"Meaning," Kael replied, "they believe the situation justifies extreme measures."
Aurelia nodded once. "They've decided you're compromised."
Kael's mouth tightened. "They've decided we are."
The declaration arrived an hour later.
It bore the seal of the High Council, authenticated by five votes—one short of unanimity, but sufficient to act.
A provisional regency.
Aurelia read the words carefully, her expression unreadable.
"They're placing conditions on your authority," she said. "Framing it as temporary."
Kael let out a sharp breath. "They're attempting a bloodless coup."
"Yes," Aurelia agreed. "Because blood would draw attention."
Kael looked at her. "They're using you as justification."
She met his gaze calmly. "Then let me speak."
"No," he said immediately.
Aurelia stepped closer. "You can crush them with force. You know that."
"Yes."
"And you won't," she said. "Because that would confirm every fear they've spread."
Kael said nothing.
"They want you to choose violence," Aurelia continued. "Because it proves you're ruled by the curse."
Kael's eyes darkened. "And what do you propose?"
Aurelia held his gaze steadily. "I propose we deny them both outcomes."
The council convened by midday.
This time, the chamber was full.
Lords, magistrates, military advisors—faces arranged carefully between curiosity and calculation. They rose when Kael entered, but the respect felt rehearsed, brittle.
Aurelia walked beside him.
Not behind.
The murmurs followed immediately.
High Chancellor Varin did not bother with pleasantries.
"Your Majesty," he said, "thank you for honoring the council's summons under… difficult circumstances."
Aurelia smiled faintly. "You sealed the gates. I imagine refusing would have been inconvenient."
Varin's lips pressed together. "This is a matter of governance."
"No," Aurelia replied calmly. "This is a matter of fear."
A ripple passed through the room.
Kael said nothing.
Varin straightened. "We have reason to believe your presence influences the curse in unpredictable ways."
Aurelia inclined her head. "That much is true."
Gasps.
Varin seized the opening. "You admit it."
"I acknowledge it," she corrected. "There is a difference."
Saelreth stood at the far edge of the chamber, watching intently.
"You fear unpredictability," Aurelia continued. "Because you mistake control for safety."
Varin scoffed. "We mistake chaos for danger."
"And yet," Aurelia said softly, "you have lived under a curse for generations and called it stability."
Silence fell.
Kael finally spoke. "You are exceeding your mandate."
Varin met his gaze. "We are preserving the realm."
"No," Kael said quietly. "You are preserving your relevance."
That struck deeper.
Varin's face hardened. "Then you leave us no choice."
He gestured.
The doors behind the council chamber opened.
Guards entered.
Not palace guards.
Council guards.
Aurelia felt it immediately—the shift, the tension snapping tight. The curse stirred, alert but restrained.
Kael moved instinctively, stepping slightly in front of her.
"This is treason," he said.
Varin's voice was steady. "This is succession contingency."
Aurelia's voice cut cleanly through the room.
"Stop."
Everyone froze.
She stepped forward, past Kael's protective stance.
"Aurelia," Kael said sharply.
She did not look back.
"You want to see what I am," she said to the council. "Then look carefully."
She raised her hands—not in surrender, but in openness.
The pressure filled the chamber—not crushing, not violent.
Present.
Attentive.
The candles bent again, flames leaning inward, not toward her body—but toward her will.
Gasps echoed.
Saelreth's breath caught.
"I am not your weapon," Aurelia said evenly. "And I am not your threat."
She turned slowly, letting every face meet her gaze.
"But if you force me to choose between silence and survival," she continued, "I will not choose silence."
The pressure sharpened.
Not outward.
Inward.
As if the curse were folding itself around her decision.
Varin's voice faltered. "You can't—"
"I can," Aurelia replied. "And you know it."
The guards hesitated.
Kael watched, stunned—not by the power, but by the control.
Saelreth stepped forward at last. "She's right," he said quietly. "This isn't dominance. It's alignment."
Varin rounded on him. "You side with her now?"
Saelreth's eyes did not leave Aurelia. "I side with reality."
The room held its breath.
Aurelia lowered her hands.
The pressure eased.
"This is your final warning," she said. "Stand down. Revoke the regency."
Varin swallowed. "And if we refuse?"
Aurelia met his gaze, calm and unflinching.
"Then you will discover," she said, "what happens when the curse stops waiting."
That night, the gates reopened.
No announcement was made.
No apology offered.
But the regency declaration vanished.
Kael stood beside Aurelia on the balcony, the city lights flickering below.
"You crossed a line today," he said quietly.
"Yes," Aurelia replied. "One they can't redraw."
He turned to her. "You scared them."
She nodded. "Good."
The curse lingered—no longer passive.