Chapter 131: The Words That Must Be Spoken
Chapter 130: The Words That Must Be Spoken
Durnham exhaled heavily.
The sound carried more resignation than agreement, though he made no further effort to disguise his displeasure.
"Well," he said at last, adjusting himself in his seat, the rings upon his fingers catching the light, "it appears there is little left for me to oppose. The decision has already been made, and unanimously so."
His tone held a faint edge, though it lacked the force it once carried.
His gaze moved briefly to the High Priestess.
Lady Seraphine did not meet it.
Instead, she lowered her eyes, her expression as composed and distant as ever, as though the matter unfolding before her belonged to another realm entirely.
No one remarked upon it.
No one seemed surprised.
Silence from her had become its own kind of presence within the council—noticed, but rarely challenged.
Durnham gave a small huff and leaned back once more, though he said nothing further.
For a moment, the chamber settled again.
Then Lady Mirelle spoke.
Her voice, though soft, cut cleanly through the stillness.
"There is one more matter, Your Majesties."
The Queen’s gaze shifted toward her with measured patience.
"Yes?"
Mirelle folded her hands lightly upon the table.
"Before any of these arrangements are enacted," she said, "a formal statement must be issued."
The Queen’s brow lifted slightly.
"A statement?"
"To address the unrest following last evening’s events," Mirelle clarified.
The Queen regarded her carefully.
"Is that truly necessary?" she asked.
Mirelle inclined her head once.
"It is."
Before the Queen could respond further, Alaric spoke.
"I would agree," he said.
His voice was even, though firm.
"The standing of the royal family has not been... unchallenged in recent times," he continued. "And after what transpired last night, that instability has only deepened."
His gaze shifted briefly toward the King before returning to the table.
"It would be prudent," he added, "to address the matter directly."
The Queen’s expression remained composed.
But there was a faint tightening at the corner of her eye.
The King spoke next.
"The individual responsible for the disruption has already been dealt with," he said calmly.
Mirelle nodded.
"That is true, Your Majesty," she replied. "But while the cause has been removed, the consequence remains."
Her gaze did not waver.
"The anxiety of the people has not been resolved."
That settled into the room with quiet weight.
Halverton inclined his head slightly.
"A formal apology," he said, "would serve as acknowledgment."
He paused, choosing his words with care.
"It would demonstrate that the Crown is not indifferent to what has occurred."
The Queen’s fingers rested lightly upon the table, though her posture did not change.
Then Halverton turned his attention to Seraphine.
"High Priestess," he said, "your thoughts?"
There was a brief pause.
Seraphine lifted her gaze.
For a moment, it seemed as though she had not been entirely present—her attention lingering somewhere distant, as it often did.
Then she cleared her throat softly.
"It would be... wise," she said.
Her voice was quiet, though not uncertain.
"For the royal family to offer an apology."
A small silence followed.
"It would bring ease," she added, "where there is unease."
That, perhaps, was the most she had said in the entire meeting.
The Queen’s gaze lingered on her for a moment.
Then, slowly, she looked down at the parchment before her.
Her eyes moved across it once.
Then again.
A faint crease formed between her brows.
"What is this?" she asked at last, lifting her gaze toward Mirelle. "These... rules."
Mirelle inclined her head.
"Another request," she said, "from the commoners."
The Queen’s brow lifted slightly.
"Explain."
Mirelle adjusted the parchment before her, though it was already perfectly aligned.
"They are requesting clarity regarding the structure of the competition itself," she said. "What is permitted. What is not. The expectations placed upon both the candidates and the Moon."
She paused briefly before continuing.
"At present, much of it remains... undefined."
"They ask to know whether the candidates are permitted to move freely within the capital," she began. "What locations are accessible to them. Whether private conversations with the Moon candidates are allowed without a chaperone present."
Durnham shifted faintly at that.
Mirelle continued regardless.
"They have also raised concerns regarding... personal conduct," she said. "Whether a candidate may maintain relationships outside of the competition. Whether such behaviour would result in disqualification."
A brief stillness followed.
"And," she added, "the method by which they themselves may participate."
"The voting," the King said.
"Yes, Your Majesty."
Mirelle inclined her head.
"They wish to understand how their voices will be counted. When. Under what conditions."
She folded her hands once more.
"In short... they are asking for structure."
The King nodded slowly.
"That is not unreasonable," he said. "We were not explicit in such matters at the outset."
The Queen considered this in silence.
Then gave a small nod.
"No," she said. "We were not."
Even Durnham, after a moment, inclined his head.
"The kingdom must understand the terms of what it is observing," he admitted, though somewhat reluctantly. "It would prevent... misinterpretation."
Halverton reached for a fresh sheet.
"I will draft the regulations," he said. "Clear, formal, and suitable for public release."
He glanced briefly toward the Queen.
"They may be announced alongside the royal statement."
"The statement should be issued today, and if the rules will be announced alongside it, then everything must be done today," Mirelle said.
The Queen exhaled softly.
There it was again—that faint trace of irritation, carefully restrained beneath her composure.
"Today?" she repeated.
"Yes, Your Majesty."
Mirelle’s tone did not waver.
"The delay will only allow unrest to grow."
A pause followed.
Then the King spoke.
"I am curious about the interviews," he said.
Mirelle turned her gaze toward him.
"Will they include the Moon candidates as well?"
For the first time since she had begun speaking, Mirelle hesitated. It was brief, but also noticeable.
"I had not... initially accounted for that," she admitted.
She considered the thought quickly.
Then nodded.
"Yes," she said. "It would be... appropriate."
Alaric inclined his head.
"I agree," he said. "If the suitors are to be examined in such a manner, it is only fitting that the Moon candidates be included."
Durnham frowned immediately.
"That is unnecessary," he said. "The Moon is not under scrutiny."
Mirelle glanced toward him.
"The Moon is central to the entire matter," she replied calmly.
"Which is precisely why she should not be subjected to public questioning," he countered.
Halverton spoke before the exchange could deepen.
"It would provide balance," he said. "And clarity."
He exhaled softly.
"If the intention is to build trust, exclusion would only invite further speculation."
Durnham’s expression tightened.
But this time, he did not argue further.
Instead, he leaned back once more, his silence sharper than any objection he might have voiced.
The Queen observed the table.
One by one.
Then gave a small, deliberate nod.
"It will be done," she said.
Her tone allowed no room for dispute.
"The statement. The rules. The interviews."
She paused.
"All of it."
The King did not speak.
But the faint inclination of his head was enough.
The matter was settled.
The hall fell quiet once more.
