Elira stood before the Queen Dowager's private audience chamber, her fingers brushing the embroidered crest of the Valen family stitched into her cloak.
A servant opened the towering double doors, and Elira stepped into a room heavy with incense and silence.
The Queen Dowager sat in a high-backed chair carved from white ashwood, her silver hair twisted into an elaborate coil beneath a veil of lace. Time had etched her face with wisdom, not weakness, and her sharp eyes held the weight of every secret in the Empire.
"Elira Valen," she said, her voice like cool marble. "You've come bearing neither petition nor plea. That alone makes you worthy of my time."
Elira bowed deeply. "I thank Your Grace for granting me this audience."
"Sit."
She did.
The silence stretched, long and evaluating.
Then the Queen Dowager said, "You've severed your engagement to my grandson. Bold. Dangerous. Some would say foolish."
"Some would," Elira agreed. "But not you."
That earned the smallest tilt of the Queen's lips. "No. Not me. I never did like how he treated you. Arrogance has always been the boy's weakness."
Elira met her gaze. "And yours has always been knowing how to turn weakness into leverage."
The Queen laughed, a dry, regal sound.
"I've missed your fire, girl."
"I'm not here to entertain Your Grace," Elira said. "I'm here to offer something the Crown has long ignored."
The Queen raised a brow. "And what might that be?"
Elira leaned forward. "Loyalty. Real, unswerving loyalty. Not from fear. Not from ambition. But because I believe this Empire deserves better than a throne rotting from within."
A pause.
Then the Queen Dowager asked, "And what do you want in return?"
"Your protection," Elira said, unflinching. "Not for my name. Not for status. But for the war I intend to wage."
The Queen narrowed her eyes. "War?"
"Not with swords. Not yet. But hearts. Minds. Influence. I intend to rewrite the court's loyalties one alliance at a time."
The Queen Dowager regarded her carefully. Then, slowly, she smiled.
"Good," she said. "Let the bastards squirm."
---
By the time Elira left the Queen's chambers, she no longer walked alone.
She had the old queen's silent blessing. And in court politics, silence was a thunderclap.
---
Back at House Valen, Kael waited in her study, arms crossed, a letter held between two fingers.
"It arrived while you were gone," he said.
Elira took the sealed parchment and frowned. No crest. No sender.
She broke the wax and unfolded it.
One sentence, written in blood-red ink:
"Some corpses don't stay buried."
Her breath caught.
Kael noticed immediately. "What is it?"
She didn't answer right away.
She read the message again. The handwriting was unfamiliar, but the meaning was clear.
Someone knew.
Knew about her past life.
Knew that she had returned from the grave.
"Do we have anyone stationed at the temple ruins?" she asked softly.
Kael's brows furrowed. "Not since last winter. Why?"
"Send someone. Quietly. Tell them to check the old crypt beneath the shrine."
"Elira…"
"I need to know if the body is still there."
Kael didn't argue. He left to relay her orders, his hand brushing her shoulder with a brief flicker of concern.
She sank into her chair, fingers trembling.
In her past life, she had died in the temple's crypt stabbed by a blade she never saw coming. Betrayed by someone she had trusted too deeply.
If her corpse was gone…
If someone had found it…
Then this game had become far more dangerous.
---
That night, she dreamed of fire.
Of screams echoing in the halls of the palace.
Of herself, bleeding out on marble, surrounded by whispers that she was a traitor.
When she woke, her pillow was damp with sweat, and the morning sun had not yet risen.
She dressed in silence and made her way to the manor's lower wing, where the library had long been sealed.
The key still hung behind a painting in her father's old study.
She unlocked the heavy door, stepped into the dust-covered room, and lit a single candle.
The shelves were lined with volumes of old history, law, and forbidden magic.
She found the book she was looking for tucked between two dusty ledgers: Chronicles of Divine Binding.
Her fingers traced the faded leather cover.
In her past life, she'd been too afraid to open it.
Now? Now she had no time for fear.
She flipped through the pages until she found it the passage on soul anchoring. A ritual that could bind a spirit to its corpse… or allow a soul to return.
Had someone tried to resurrect her?
Or worse was someone using her old body as a vessel?
Her stomach twisted.
This was no longer just politics.
It was necromancy.
---
By the time Kael returned, dawn had broken. He entered the study silently, shutting the library door behind him.
"The body's gone," he said. "The crypt was empty. No signs of a struggle, but the seal was broken."
Elira clenched the book in her hands. "How long ago?"
"Hard to tell. Weeks. Maybe months."
She shut the book slowly.
Whoever had taken her body had been preparing for this long before she awoke.
"You're not safe," Kael said quietly. "We need to reinforce the estate."
"No," Elira said. "That would only tell them I'm afraid."
He frowned. "You're not?"
"I'm furious."
---
Later that morning, Elira summoned her steward.
"Send invitations," she said. "I'm hosting a moonlight banquet in three nights. I want every noble family with something to lose in attendance."
The steward blinked. "So soon, my lady?"
"Too soon is better than too late."
As the steward rushed to obey, Kael spoke from the corner.
"You're using the banquet to draw them out."
Elira nodded. "If someone's watching me, they'll make a move. Or at least leave a trace. Let them think I'm building alliances out of vanity."
Kael stepped forward. "And if they do more than leave a trace?"
"Then let them try," she said. "I'm not the girl they buried. I'm the woman who climbed out of her grave."
He looked at her for a long moment. Then, softly, "You're terrifying."
She smirked. "Good."
---
In the hours that followed, her home transformed.
The dusty halls were cleaned, gardens trimmed, candles replaced. Cooks prepared menus. Seamstresses arrived to alter gowns. And whispers spread like wildfire.
Lady Elira Valen disgraced, discarded, dethroned was throwing a banquet?
Everyone wanted to see her fall.
Elira would let them come.
Let them eat and drink and smile.
And when the trap closed, not one would leave unmarked.
---