The Warlord’s Proposal

  The court still buzzed from the warlord’s proposal.

  The grand hall of Zadreth’s royal court was heavy with silence. Gold chandeliers flickered against the high vaulted ceilings, the glow casting shadows over the assembled nobles. The scent of spiced wine and aged parchment clung to the air, mingling with the lingering traces of Seraphina’s performance.

  At the heart of the chamber, General Kael Vostrik knelt before the king, his sword resting flat on his palms.

  He was a man of scars—his hands calloused by battle, his voice edged with steel. His armor, though polished, bore the marks of countless battles—each dent a story, each faded engraving a testament to his victories. A warrior feared across the Eastern Front, Kael was not a man prone to submission. Yet here he was, offering his sword—not in surrender, but in alliance.

  “A union, Your Majesty,” he declared, his voice deep and commanding, with his dark eyes unreadable as he glanced forward. He placed his sword upon the polished marble floor, its steel gleaming beneath the torchlight. “Your daughter, wed to my son. Our armies, joined. Zadreth’s enemies will tremble.”

  The assembled nobles exchanged wary glances.

  The King of Zadreth, old and calculating, leaned forward in his throne. His silver crown weighed heavily on his aged brow, his once-vibrant blue eyes dulled by time, frail but shrewd. Yet there was something sharp behind them still—something unreadable. He studied Kael in silence.

  His lips pressed together, unreadable.

  The tension thickened. Would the king accept?

  But before he could speak, a voice cut through the air like silk over steel.

  The Queen’s Gambit

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Before the king could respond, Queen Lysara spoke, her voice smooth as silk and sharp as a dagger.

  “A tempting offer, Warlord.”

  The court turned as Queen Lysara spoke, her lips curled in a knowing smirk.

  Regal in her sapphire gown, her raven hair cascaded over her shoulders like liquid night. The Queen of Zadreth was no ordinary consort—her cunning was whispered through the courts of every kingdom, her ambition a force to rival any warlord’s army.

  “But I wonder…” she continued, her voice slow, deliberate. “Does a lioness need a wolf to defend her den?”

  The court chuckled, but Kael did not. A few nobles chortled in silence—tentative, nervous.

  Kael’s expression did not change. If he was offended, he did not show it. He merely tilted his head, amusement glinting in his eyes.

  Lysara leaned forward. “Perhaps you underestimate the crown.”

  Kael smiled thinly. “Perhaps you overestimate your power.”

  “Oh! Really now?” Lysara scoffed, astonished at his words.

  “Perhaps,” he mused, “but even a lioness must acknowledge when wolves are at her gates.”

  The court held its breath. A dangerous game was being played—one of politics, power, and veiled threats.

  The king exhaled slowly. “My Queen,” he said, his voice weary, but firm, “you speak as though we are not already surrounded.”

  A hush fell over the court.

  It was no secret—Zadreth had enemies on all sides. To the north, the Kingdom of Vaelor strengthened its forces. To the south, the Ravager Clans pillaged unchecked. And in the east…

  Kael Vostrik.

  A warlord. A kingmaker. A man whose allegiance could mean survival—or destruction.

  Lysara’s smirk remained, but something flickered behind her gaze.

  She knew the king was right.

  A Dancer’s Secret

  From the shadows of the chamber, Seraphina watched.

  She had spent years mastering the art of deception—her dance a mask, her smile a weapon. Tonight, she was not just a performer.

  The last remnants of her dance still shimmered in the air, her golden veils lying discarded at the edge of the hall. While the nobles played their games of power, she stood unseen—listening, absorbing, waiting.

  She was more than a performer.

  She was a spy.

  The night’s alliances would be whispered into her ears, their secrets laced into her steps. And when war came, she would choose which side to betray.

  Her mission was clear—watch the warlord, watch the queen, and above all… ensure the king’s answer was the right one.

  But whose side was she truly on?

  Kael’s? Lysara’s? Or another force entirely?

  As she bowed to the crowd, Seraphina’s eyes met Queen Lysara’s. A silent understanding passed between them.

  Her lips curled into a soft smile as she turned away, stepping back into the corridors of the palace.

  Tonight had been entertaining. But the real performance was yet to come.

  The real war had already begun.