Chapter 118: The Crown They Refuse to Share
Chapter 117: The Crown They Refuse to Share
The Queen’s laughter did not linger long, but its echo remained.
The King turned his head toward her, his brows drawing together in clear irritation.
"And what, exactly, do you find amusing?" he asked, his voice edged with something dangerous.
The Queen met his gaze without hesitation.
For a moment, she said nothing—only looked at him in a way that spoke of long-held thoughts finally surfacing.
Then, slowly, she tilted her head.
"You," she said.
The King’s expression darkened.
"Careful," he warned.
But the Queen did not retreat.
"If you had kept yourself in your own affairs," she continued coolly, "perhaps we would not be here."
Jacinta’s pacing faltered.
Silence crept in again, thinner this time, more brittle.
The Queen’s gaze did not waver.
"Perhaps," she added, "we would have had one Moon of the Empire."
The implication hung heavy in the air.
The King’s lip curled slightly.
"Now we are pointing fingers?" he asked, disgust lacing every word.
The Queen gave a soft, humorless laugh.
"It is you who began pointing fingers," she replied. "Do not pretend otherwise."
Her eyes flicked briefly toward Jacinta, then back to him.
"It is not her fault," she went on, "that your... indiscretion was kept where it belonged."
There was a pause, and then she added—
"In the shadows."
Jacinta stood very still.
Her hands trembled slightly at her sides, though whether from anger or something else, even she could not have said.
She hated this.
She hated the way her parents’ voices sharpened whenever Lyria was brought into the room—even when Lyria herself was not there.
She hated the way everything seemed to circle back to her.
To that girl.
It would have been easier—simpler, even—if she had been the only daughter.
If there had never been another.
Her jaw tightened.
The King let out a slow breath, clearly restraining himself.
"This is not the time," he said at last, his voice clipped. "We are not here to revisit old grievances."
The Queen arched a brow.
"Are we not?" she asked softly.
"No," he said firmly. "We are here to discuss what is to be done."
He leaned forward slightly in his seat, fingers steepled before him.
"What happened in the Grand Hall cannot be undone," he continued. "The entire kingdom has seen... her."
The Queen’s lips curved faintly.
"There is nothing to be done," she said.
The King’s gaze sharpened.
"Nothing?" he repeated.
"Nothing," she confirmed. "The situation has already decided itself."
She shifted slightly in her seat, her posture as composed as ever.
"Lyria must join the competition."
Jacinta’s head snapped toward her.
"No."
She stepped forward, her skirts swaying with the force of the movement.
"No," she repeated, louder this time. "She will not."
The Queen did not even glance at her.
Jacinta’s hands clenched.
"I will not allow it," she said, her voice rising. "Over my dead body—"
"Enough," the King said calmly but firmly.
Jacinta froze.
Her breath hitched.
But the King was no longer looking at her.
His attention had returned to the Queen.
"The Queen is right," he said.
Jacinta stared at him.
"The girl must join," he continued. "There is no alternative now."
"No!" Jacinta cried.
Tears filled her eyes almost instantly, spilling over before she could stop them.
"I don’t want this!" she shouted, her voice breaking. "I won’t have it!"
Neither of them moved.
Neither of them softened.
"I am the Moon!" she went on, her chest rising and falling rapidly. "I am the one chosen!"
Her vision blurred, but she did not look away.
"No one else," she said, her voice trembling now, "no one else is the Moon of the Empire."
The King and the Queen exchanged a brief glance.
Then the Queen spoke.
"Of course you are."
Jacinta blinked in shock.
"You are the Moon of the Empire," the Queen said.
"Lyria," the Queen continued calmly, "is merely a candidate."
"The entire kingdom now knows she is the King’s daughter," the Queen went on. "Do you truly believe they would accept her absence?"
Jacinta said nothing.
"They will demand her presence," the Queen said. "They will expect it."
She tilted her head slightly.
"And we cannot afford to disappoint them so soon after... such a revelation."
The King nodded once.
"A refusal would raise questions," he added. "Unnecessary ones."
Jacinta’s hands trembled again.
"So she just... joins?" she asked, her voice small now, stripped of its earlier force.
The Queen’s lips curved faintly.
"She participates," she corrected. "That is all."
Jacinta shook her head.
"No," she whispered. "No, that is not all."
Her gaze sharpened again, desperation creeping back in.
"They will see her," she said. "They will compare—"
"They may look," the Queen said coolly, "but they will not choose."
Jacinta stilled.
"There is a difference," the Queen continued, her voice precise, "between being present... and being worthy."
"You are the Moon, dear," she repeated. "That has not changed."
Jacinta searched her face, as though trying to find something—anything—to anchor herself to.
"And Lyria?" she asked quietly.
The Queen’s expression did not shift.
"Lyria," she said, "would do well to remember her place."
She paused, then added—
"If she knows what is good for her."
The King’s gaze flicked briefly toward her, but he did not interrupt.
The Queen leaned back in her seat, folding her hands neatly in her lap.
"Her mother is still in the palm of my hands. All I need to do is close my hand, and her mother is gone. Given how much Lyria cares for her mother, she will do everything we ask of her just to ensure her mother survives. Like I said, Lyria is only a candidate. She may have been upgraded from a shadow, but she is nothing more than a candidate," the Queen said.
Jacinta smiled at that.
"And now that that’s settled, we should talk about the competition itself. As much as I hate to admit it, the Duke of Blackmere was right—we will need to start the competition all over again," the Queen said.
