Being a queen, Seraphina quickly discovered, was nothing like being a hero.
The weeks following her elevation were filled with audiences, councils, and endless negotiations. Lords and ladies came from across the kingdom to meet the new Dragon Queen, to assess her, to determine whether she was someone they could work with—or manipulate.
She learned quickly that not everyone was pleased by her appointment.
"The girl is a peasant," Lord Ashworth declared in open council, his face twisted with barely concealed contempt. "She has no breeding, no education, no understanding of how things are done. How can we trust her to represent us?"
"She sealed the barrier," another lord countered. "She faced the Voidwalkers and won. That seems like qualification enough."
"Any Dragonbound could have done the same," Ashworth dismissed. "She merely happened to be in the right place at the right time."
Seraphina sat silently through the exchange, her face carefully neutral. Through her bond with Pyre, she could feel the dragon's irritation—Pyre wanted nothing more than to fly to the council chamber and remind these nobles exactly what they were dealing with.
Patience, Seraphina counseled. We'll win them over.
Or we could simply let them see what we can do, Pyre responded. A demonstration of power tends to focus minds.
Which is exactly what they expect from us. Power without wisdom, force without restraint. Seraphina smiled faintly. Let's show them something different.
When she finally spoke, her voice was calm and measured. "Lord Ashworth raises a valid point. I am not of noble birth. I did not grow up in courts and councils, learning the intricacies of politics and protocol."
The chamber fell silent, nobles exchanging surprised glances. They had expected her to defend herself, to justify her position with claims of destiny or power.
"But I did grow up in a village that was often overlooked by those in power," she continued. "I know what it's like to be forgotten, to be dismissed, to watch helplessly as decisions made in distant courts affect the lives of ordinary people. And I believe that perspective has value."
She rose from her seat, moving to the center of the chamber. Her new body moved with a grace she was still getting used to—fluid and precise, with an undertone of dragon-like power.
"I may not know your protocols, but I am a quick study. I may not have your breeding, but I have something perhaps more valuable: I understand what we're protecting. Not just the barrier, not just the covenant—but the people who depend on both."
She met Lord Ashworth's eyes, her gaze steady. "Give me a chance to prove myself. If, after six months, you still believe I am unfit to serve, I will step aside. The choice of my successor will be yours."
The chamber erupted in whispers. It was an unprecedented offer—a ruler offering to submit to judgment by those she was meant to lead.
Lord Ashworth's face showed a complex mix of emotions—surprise, calculation, and something that might have been grudging respect.
"You would do that?" he asked. "You would stake your position on the judgment of this council?"
"I would stake my position on the fairness of this council," Seraphina replied. "And on my own ability to demonstrate that I deserve to be here."
The vote that followed was not unanimous, but it was decisive. The council would give her six months.
Seraphina left the chamber with Kestrel at her side, her heart pounding despite her outward calm.
"That was well done," he said quietly. "You surprised them."
"I surprised myself." She shook her head. "I have no idea where those words came from."
"They came from you. From the woman you've become over the past months." Kestrel's voice was warm. "The merger didn't give you wisdom, Seraphina. It just amplified what was already there."
"Or Pyre's ancient perspective helped me see things differently."
"That too." He smiled. "Come. The Queen wants to discuss the remaining Ash Covenant cells. We have work to do."
Work. That was something she understood, even if the nature of the work had changed dramatically since her days washing fish in the river.
She fell into step beside Kestrel, their shoulders almost touching, and tried not to think about how natural it felt to be near him.
Six months. She had six months to prove herself.
She would make every day count.