The Royal Courtroom was filled with the scent of burning torches and aged papers, the walls lined with towering bookshelves and banners bearing the royal crest. The round stone table in the center of the room was polished to a dull gleam.
Ronan's fingers drummed against its surface impatiently.
He watched as his council men bickered amongst themselves. Some argued over the kingdom's trade agreements, others pressed about their ongoing conflicts with the border lords. It was the same tired conversation he had heard too many times before.
"I've found my Queen!" Ronan announced suddenly, his voice cutting through the noise like a blade.
Silence fell over the chamber. The men around the table froze, their expressions ranging from surprise to outright disbelief.
Travis, his right-hand man, leaned back in his chair, the corner of his lips tugging into a smirk. He alone seemed unfazed by the sudden declaration.
"Who?" Lord Edwin, the eldest among them, scoffed. His wrinkled hands gripped the table as if steadying himself from the shock. "Surely you mean Princess Penelope of Riyad?"
Ronan met his gaze.
"No."
Murmurs broke out instantly. Some lords exchanged wary glances; others shook their heads in outright disapproval.
"Your Majesty," Lord Percival, a younger councilman, spoke carefully. "We have discussed this at length. A union with Riyad would be wise. Their army is vast, their wealth unmatched. To refuse such an alliance—"
"I am not interested in wealth or armies," Ronan interrupted, his tone sharp as steel. "I am interested in her."
Travis exhaled sharply, amusement dancing in his dark eyes. "This should be fun."
Lord Edwin scowled. "And who, may I ask, is her?"
Ronan leaned forward slightly, his presence dominating the room. "Selene."
The name landed like a hammer against stone.
Several of the lords stiffened. Others frowned in confusion.
"Selene?" Lord Edwin repeated slowly, as if testing the name on his tongue. "Which noble house does she belong to?"
"None."
The tension in the room thickened.
"A commoner?" someone muttered in disbelief.
"This is absurd," Lord Godfrey, one of the more vocal council members, scoffed. "No one knows where this woman came from! She could be a spy, an enemy, an assassin—"
Ronan's hand slammed against the table, rattling goblets and ink pots. "Mind your tongue."
The room fell deathly silent.
Travis, whistled under his breath. "You'd be wise not to anger the King."
Ronan ignored him, his focus solely on the men before him.
"I have made my decision. I am not changing my mind."
Lord Edwin, his face pale, tried again. "Your Majesty, you must see reason. Marriage is not just about personal desires—it is about securing power, ensuring stability. A woman from a powerful kingdom would strengthen your rule. This… Selene offers nothing."
Ronan's lips curled in a slow, dangerous smile. "She offers me everything."
A weight settled over the council. Some looked thoughtful. Others remained openly opposed.
"You are King," Lord Percival conceded, his voice careful. "But the people will not accept a nobody as their Queen."
Ronan met his gaze without flinching. "They will. When they see her worth."
Murmurs spread across the table.
Lord Edwin scoffed. "And how exactly do you propose they do that? A woman's worth is measured in her lineage, her alliances, her ability to strengthen the crown—not in whatever charms have ensnared you."
Ronan's fingers tightened against the armrest of his chair.
But before he could respond, Travis leaned back in his chair, a smirk playing at his lips.
"You say the people will not accept her?" He let the words hang in the air for a moment before tilting his head. "Then let them test her. Let them challenge her. Let them see for themselves if she is worthy."
Ronan's eyes darkened as he turned toward him. "And how exactly do you suggest they do that?"
Travis's smirk widened into something sharper. "The Queen's Games."
Lord Edwin nearly choked. "The Queen's Games? That hasn't been done in—"
"Decades," Travis cut in. "But it's still tradition. And since the council is so graciously trying to make this decision for you, let's put it to the test."
Ronan's fingers tightened around the armrest of his chair. "Travis—"
"Think about it," Travis interrupted, grinning. "There are twelve of us here. Each council member will choose a candidate—our strongest, most suitable option. Including you, of course." He gestured dramatically. "And you, Your Majesty, can pick Selene."
The room buzzed with renewed energy. Some of the lords nodded, murmuring to each other.
"This is ridiculous," Ronan muttered.
"Is it?" Travis raised a brow. "You're King, but even a King must maintain the support of his council. If Selene is truly as exceptional as you claim, then let her prove it."
Ronan clenched his jaw.
He didn't like this.
Didn't like idea of Selene playing the Queen games.
But he had to listen to his council. It was one of his duties as a good King.
He exhaled slowly, his decision made.
"Fine," he bit out. "The Queen's Games will be held."
The lords exchanged glances—some satisfied, others still reluctant.
Lord Edwin sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. "And if she fails?"
Ronan stood, his imposing figure casting a long shadow across the table. His voice was like a promise, unbreakable and absolute.
"She won't."
The meeting was over.
Ronan turned on his heel, his cloak billowing behind him as he strode toward the exit.
Travis chuckled. "This is going to be interesting."
The moment Ronan stepped into the corridor, his mind was already racing.
The Queen's Games.
A trial of strength, intelligence, and resilience. A challenge designed to determine the worthiest Queen.
It had been abandoned for years because no ruler had dared to place such a brutal test upon their chosen bride.
But Selene wasn't just anyone.
He believed she was capable of winning.
And when she did, no one—not his council, not the lords, not the people—would question why he had chosen her.
By the end of it all, they wouldn't just accept Selene as their Queen.
They would fear her.