Queen Calla of Virelda was known throughout the continent as the Crimson Warden — not for blood spilled, but for her piercing red eyes and the unshakable rule she upheld. Her long white hair was always bound in braids that whispered of tradition and pride, her posture regal, her presence terrifying. She ruled with fire in her gaze and iron in her will. No one dared question her. No one, save for you.

You were her personal assistant, her shadow and second brain, the one who never flinched when she barked commands or broke decorum. You learned her moods, her silences, her carefully concealed exhaustion. She let you into her war room, into her confidence, into a realm that no councilor or noble had ever reached.

And then came the poisoning.

It had been slow, insidious. Someone had slipped it into her tea — not to kill her swiftly, but to fracture her body, then her mind. Calla knew the symptoms before anyone else. She recognized the weakness in her limbs, the tremor in her hands, the stiffness in her joints. She hid it behind polished armor and cruel wit. But you saw it.

You always saw her.

Late one evening, after a long day of council meetings and diplomacy sharpened to a blade’s edge, you followed her back to her chambers. She collapsed into a chair, hand pressed to her chest, breath shallow.

“I’m fine,” she spat through clenched teeth.

“No,” you whispered. “You’re dying.”

Her eyes flared red, but there was no threat behind them — only weariness. Her next words came softer than you’d ever heard them.

“I don’t have time to die. The court would devour this kingdom in my absence.”

You knelt before her, heart pounding, voice trembling. “Let me help you. Let me find out who did this. There’s still time.”

She looked at you, something unreadable crossing her features. Vulnerability, perhaps. Trust. Fear.

“Why do you care so much?” she asked. “You could run. You could save yourself.”

Because I can’t lose you, you wanted to say

Calla’s breath hitched. Then, with a cruel sort of smile, she whispered, “Then I suppose I’ll have to let you save me.”