Shadow Over the Heavenly Throne

The cold palace corridors stretched before Shion like an endless path. The marble floors reflected the flickering candlelight, casting an austere, almost foreboding atmosphere. Every step echoed loudly, even though she walked lightly, as if afraid that a single misstep might invoke the wrath of someone she shouldn’t anger.

Selena led her in silence. The head maid of the royal family, Elisa, awaited them in the spacious servants’ hall. She was a woman with sharp features and a piercing gaze that seemed to see right through anyone who dared to meet her eyes.

“So this is the one?” she asked calmly, though her voice carried a steely edge.

Selena nodded without further comment.

Elisa’s gaze swept over Shion from head to toe, as if assessing a newly acquired object. Shion remained motionless, though every fiber of her being was tense.

“Name?” Elisa asked.

“Shion,” the girl answered, her voice barely a whisper.

Elisa showed no sign of sympathy for her state, yet she lingered, as if pondering something beyond what she saw. Her eyes narrowed slightly, and her fingers tapped rhythmically against the table, as if weighing a decision she had yet to make.

“I don’t care who you were. From now on, you are a servant. I will teach you everything you need to know. Do you understand?”

Shion nodded. She wasn’t sure whether she should respond verbally or stay silent. Instinct told her it was best to do nothing that might provoke Elisa’s disapproval.

“Good. I will show you your duties.”

Elisa turned and walked down the corridor. Shion followed without making a sound.

At the same time, in another part of the palace, an entirely different atmosphere prevailed.

The royal chamber was warmly illuminated by the glow of the fireplace. The air carried a subtle blend of herbs and incense, while heavy curtains muted the sounds from outside. The King sat at a low table, pouring himself a glass of wine when the door opened and the Queen stepped inside.

He raised an eyebrow slightly upon seeing her composed expression.

“How was your trip?” he asked, lifting the goblet to his lips.

“No surprises,” she replied, moving closer to him.

The King smirked faintly. “So, the child truly exists.”

“She does. And she’s exactly as they said. But…” she hesitated for a fraction of a second. “Mentally, she’s broken.”

The King set his goblet down and studied her carefully. “Then we shouldn’t expect much from her for now?”

“We shouldn’t,” she agreed. “But her potential is limitless.”

The King exhaled, running a hand over his beard. “If she is to survive, she will have to awaken. Perhaps, in seventeen years, she will become our greatest weapon.”

The Queen’s gaze grew colder. “Perhaps. But I wouldn’t be so sure.”

The King chuckled softly, shaking his head. “That fool of a father. He resented being forced into a political marriage, sulking like a child whose favorite toy was taken away. He may have felt wronged by fate, but as the head of his clan, he should have prioritized its prosperity over his own self-pity. His emotional weakness cost him something that could have elevated his bloodline above all others.”

The Queen folded her arms, regarding him with a cool smile. “At least he devoted time to one of his daughters. Unlike a certain someone.”

Aldrich raised an eyebrow before letting out a quiet laugh. “I see you won’t let that go.”

“No,” she replied without hesitation.

The King sighed, leaning back in his chair. “Veynessa, you must understand that despite being a father, I am still a king. My duties extend far beyond what you expect of me. Not everyone has the luxury of simply being a parent.”

Veynessa sighed, leaning back against her chair.

“I understand,” she admitted, though her tone suggested she wasn’t entirely accepting of it. “But, Aldrich, I’d advise you to pay more attention to your daughter. She’s far more intelligent than you think. And if you keep going on like this, there may come a day when you don’t even notice you’ve lost her.”

The king remained silent for a moment, as if weighing her words, then sighed, gripping his wine goblet lightly. He glanced toward the fire dancing in the hearth, lifting the glass to his lips and taking a slow sip, prolonging the silence as though trying to mask his discomfort. A flicker of something unreadable passed through his eyes before he changed the subject, deliberately steering the conversation away from fatherhood.

“Second- and third-rate sects never fail to prove their stupidity. In the super sects, only the best are chosen, regardless of their lineage. It doesn’t matter whether you were born into the main family, a minor branch, or as a mere outer disciple—only strength, intelligence, and survival ability matter. But those lesser clans?” He scoffed. “They cling to their outdated traditions and then wonder why they can’t rival the best. They refuse to evolve because they think blood is more important than talent.”

The queen raised an eyebrow.

“Sounds familiar, doesn’t it? After all, in the royal family, it’s exactly the same. Only those with royal blood can sit on the throne.”

The king laughed heartily.

“Of course. But monarchy is more than just a sect. It is the foundation of stability.”

The queen rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. A moment of silence settled between them, the flames in the hearth flickering softly, casting long shadows across the walls. The tension of political discourse slowly gave way to something more personal, more intimate.

The king leaned closer, placing his hand on her waist, his fingers trailing over the fabric of her gown, exploring, testing. His touch was light but firm, carrying both reverence and possession.

“As long as you stand by my side, I can protect both the throne and our family,” he murmured, lowering his lips toward her neck. “And the world can only envy me for having such a beautiful woman, Veynessa.”

Veynessa didn’t pull away, though for a brief moment, her gaze betrayed an inner struggle—as if debating whether to yield to the moment or maintain her distance. In the end, she tilted her chin slightly, a hint of challenge in her expression.

“You’re getting better at flattery,” she remarked as his lips brushed her skin. “But you still have much to learn.”

“Then I’d be happy to take another lesson.”

Veynessa sighed theatrically but didn’t stop him as his hand trailed up the curve of her back. Her fingers lightly brushed his shoulder—a subtle touch, almost imperceptible, yet enough to let him know she wasn’t rejecting him.

“Since Sylphia was born, we’ve rarely had the chance to sleep together,” she said softly.

Aldrich lifted his head, meeting her eyes.

“Then perhaps we should change that tonight.”

Veynessa didn’t answer right away, as though weighing his words. At last, she sighed and allowed a small smile.

“Perhaps.”

The king grinned triumphantly and leaned in to kiss her. His lips pressed against her skin slowly, deliberately, and she didn’t pull away, allowing the barrier between them to blur. The candlelight flickered against the walls, their shadows intertwining, as if for a moment, nothing else existed.