The heels of my boots echoed through the marbled corridors like the ticking of a slow, deliberate clock. Every step was measured and controlled.
Today, I would be seen.
For the first time since Gideon's fall into that wretched but fortunate state, I was stepping into the light of public scrutiny again. I had been within the estate all through, and those outside had only heard news that Gideon's pathetic wife had taken over.
However, today they were going to see me; not as Gideon's young and weak wife but as their queen. They wouldn't find a shattered woman mourning the predicament that befell her husband.
They would find me. And they would know just why I was feared.
My black dress clung like a second skin; modest, with clean lines and sharp structure. It was power disguised as elegance. It had long sleeves and a high neckline. No jewelry, I didn't need gold to command attention.
And behind me, Elias.
In black, like always. Silent and coiled. He was the perfect predator in a tailored suit. His eyes never drifted far from me, his gaze would flicker around as he scanned the surrounding before returning to me.
The tall estate gates parted for me with reverence.
Outside, the Empire's core waited: commanders, investors, foreign envoys pretending to care, and inner-circle officials who had long grown comfortable under Gideon Voss's iron reign.
Dozens of faces turned toward me, their expressions painted with a thin gloss of respect masking uncertainty.
I wanted them to look, I wanted them to wonder what kind of woman survives this long surrounded by corpses and vultures, and still walks with her chin high and her heels on the cobblestone.
Elias trailed half a pace behind me. Silent and watchful.
I walked the length of the courtyard, where the heavyweights of the underworld had gathered to watch. Some bowed their heads respectfully, others only nodded. But every pair of eyes was on me, gauging, wondering.
Had I always been like this or did I suddenly become something dangerous?
"Lady Ariella," one of the older governors murmured as I passed. "It's… good to see you return."
"I was never gone," I replied, my voice like silk.
He chuckled uneasily, he was nervous. He looked away far too quickly.
Let them squirm.
I moved among them smoothly, my words were warm when needed, my smile calculated and edged. Every pleasantry I exchanged was a test.
I scanned the perimeter.
Beneath the tailored clothes and courteous expressions were guns and knives and I knew that well enough; everyone here has ambitions and secrets.
I knew because I'd lived it. I'd watched Gideon mold this empire with blood and manipulation, and I'd learned early that nothing came free; not loyalty, not respect, and certainly not survival.
So I gave them a smile that promised both mercy and retribution. And I kept walking.
~~
An hour passed. Then another.
I'd met with three ministers, two military aides, and one hollow-eyed trade liaison who kept staring at my breasts like he forgot I could have him castrated by dinnertime.
By the third round of pleasantries, I'd grown tired of words. But appearances mattered.
The public needed to see that I was stable, controlled, and untouchable. A woman who had not been weakened by the years, I woman who was just beginning to live.
It happened fast....
I was halfway down the central gallery of the East Wing when it came; a shift in the air. Elias tensed before I even registered it fully.
Then the world exploded.
A crack echoed like thunder across stone. My shoulder jerked back from an impact as Elias slammed into me with enough force to knock the wind out of my lungs, driving me sideways as something hissed past my face.
I hit the floor hard, my cheek scraping against the cold marble. Elias was already over me, body tense, one arm braced beside my head, the other reaching for his side.
Another shot rang out, the sound of glass shattering followed and then screams. The crowd erupted, scattering like roaches under sudden light.
I saw him then, the shooter.
He was tall, military cut in civilian clothes. An outsider who blended in too well. He was on the second-level balcony, rifle raised, body still.
But not still enough for Elias. I barely saw him move; one second, Elias was crouched over me. The next, he was airborne.
The guy tried to shoot him but the shot was fired too late. Elias landed like a predator tackling him backward. There was a violent crash, then silence.
I stood, slowly. My head was ringing from the collision with the ground and the chaos surrounding me, but I was thinking straight.
More guards poured in a moment later, their boots clattered, their radios buzzed, their weapons drawn too little, too late.
Elias stood amid the wreckage, breathing hard. Blood streaked across his jaw, the attacker lay limp at his feet, neck twisted at a grotesque angle.
Dead. Very fucking dead.
"Are you okay?" he asked, voice low, eyes scanning the crowd that was now being evacuated.
I smoothed a hand over my hair and straightened my spine though my cheek stung from where it had scraped the floor. "I am."
He nodded once. Then silence.
I looked around at the chaos; people crying, guards shouting orders, the smell of gunpowder heavy in the air, and all
I felt was clarity.
This was what I'd been waiting for; the first test. And I'd passed it.