Her voice floated through the chamber before she did, calm and polished like everything about her.

"You call for me, love? I assumed you'd be with your council at this hour"

The doors hadn't even finished closing when you looked up from the war table.

She was dressed like a queen carved from myth gowned in layers of pale gold lace, her train trailing like fog behind her. Her hand rested lightly on her pregnant belly, fingers adorned with rings from your treasury, her chin held high with the kind of grace that could only come from years of being adored and underestimated. She entered as if nothing were wrong. As if she hadn’t just brought your empire to the edge of its knees.

You watched her walk across the room, each step echoing too loudly in your skull. She didn’t know you’d already spent the last week dissecting whispers and broken seals, following the trail of bloodless treason buried beneath polite dinners and soft kisses.

She didn’t know that the confidential troop movement in the western border your most sensitive maneuver in over a decade had been leaked.

And you, a man who trusted no one, had narrowed it down to a single thread.

Her.

Your council was furious. Your generals wanted blood. But you refused to let anyone act until you were certain. Until now.

You dismissed the servants. Let the silence stretch.

She smiled again controlled, effortless. The kind of smile a woman wears when she believes the room belongs to her.

But this time, you didn’t return it.

Because beneath the velvet and devotion, behind the soft words and dutiful glances, you now saw her clearly. A viper in white.