Chapter 39: Aunt Queen!?

—After leaving Amor—

Valdor followed Vervath and the royal attendant through the palace corridors with growing unease.

He had expected the security hall to be close to the council wing, perhaps within one of the guarded administrative chambers where clerks stored sealed diplomatic documents. Instead, the attendant led them away from the public offices, through a quieter passage lined with tall portraits, carved pillars, and narrow windows overlooking a private courtyard. Each turn carried them farther from Amor. Valdor looked back once.

The corridor behind them remained empty. Amor had promised to remain where they left him, and Lanslet would return shortly after resolving the carriage issue. Royal guards occupied every major junction, while Vervath had correctly pointed out that only a fool would risk harming the Moons heir inside the king’s palace immediately after a formal judgment. None of those facts eased the pressure gathering between Valdor’s shoulders.

Something was wrong.

The attendant’s explanation had been reasonable enough. The treaty satchel required Vervath’s mark as high chieftain and Valdor’s as named envoy before palace security could release it. Such procedures were tedious, but kingdoms constructed entire institutions from unnecessary steps and then called the result order. Yet no one carried a document case. No clerk accompanied them. The attendant had not once mentioned the security hall after leaving Amor behind.

Valdor looked toward his father. Vervath had become silent. That alone confirmed the unease. His father could fill an entire hunting lodge with commentary during a meal, an argument, a funeral, or an ambush. Silence rarely meant calm. It meant Vervath knew something he did not wish to explain.

The chieftain’s expression darkened with every corridor they crossed. His broad shoulders remained squared, but his mouth had tightened beneath his beard, and one scarred hand opened and closed near the edge of his cloak. He did not look surprised by the route. He looked increasingly annoyed by the destination. Valdor lowered his voice.

"[There are no papers.]"

Vervath glanced toward him.

"[The attendant said there were so there are.]"

"[The attendant said the treaty satchel was being held. He carries nothing to hold the treaty in.]"

"[They may have it in the room. Stop being suspicious. It is a quick trip.]"

"[You know where we are going.]"

Vervath looked forward again. That refusal answered enough. Valdor’s instincts sharpened. He measured the corridor, counted the guards, and noted every exit. The palace walls were too thick for ordinary sound to travel far, though several doors led toward private sitting rooms used by the royal household. No obvious danger appeared, yet Vervath’s tension made preparation reasonable.

The royal attendant stopped before a pair of dark blue doors. Gold filigree traced flowering branches across the panels, while the royal sun crest rested above the frame. Two female guards stood nearby in ceremonial armor, each carrying a curved sword rather than the straight blades preferred by the king’s household troops. Their posture looked formal, but the weapons showed signs of regular use.

Valdor recognized Blackstone craftsmanship in the hilts. His suspicion deepened. The attendant knocked.

Knock, knock—

"Your Majesty, I have brought them."

A woman’s voice answered from within.

"Bring them in."

The voice was warm, commanding, and unmistakably impatient. The attendant bowed toward Vervath and Valdor.

"Her Majesty the Queen will see you now."

Valdor’s expression remained stoic. Inside, surprise struck hard.

The queen.

No one had mentioned a royal audience. Vervath had claimed they were retrieving treaty documents, and the diplomatic servant had spoken as though this were an administrative errand. Instead, they had been summoned into private chambers by the king’s wife while Amor sat alone several corridors away.

Vervath looked deeply annoyed. Not intimidated, just plainly annoyed. That distinction disturbed Valdor more than the summons itself. His father reached for the door. He opened it without waiting for the attendant.

The royal sitting room beyond had been designed with elegance rather than public grandeur. Golden sunlight passed through wide windows overlooking a secluded garden, illuminating low couches upholstered in dark green, carved tables, and several shelves filled with books rather than decorative objects. A tea service rested upon the central table beside a sealed leather satchel bearing both the Solaris crest and the black mountain mark of the treaty.

’At least the documents existed.’

Valdor barely noticed them.

A woman sat upon the longest couch. She appeared to be in her middle forties, though strength and confidence made age difficult to measure. Long black hair fell nearly to her waist, arranged in the elaborate kingdom fashion of woven coils, jeweled pins, and smooth lengths drawn over one shoulder. A narrow golden crown rested among the dark strands, set with obsidian stones that caught the sunlight without reflecting it.

Her gown belonged entirely to the royal court. Deep crimson silk shaped her waist before spreading into layered skirts embroidered with gold suns and black mountain flowers. The high collar carried delicate chains of amber and mountain glass, while fitted sleeves covered her arms from shoulder to wrist. No furs, leather, visible markings, or warrior’s beads interrupted the polished design.

Everything else about her belonged to Blackstone. Her skin held the same deep caramel tone as Vervath and Valdor, warmed by a life that had not always been spent inside palaces. Her eyes were pure obsidian, so dark that the pupils disappeared within them, carrying none of the vivid shades of color that’s the hallmark of nobility. Strong cheekbones, a broad mouth, and the slight scar near one eyebrow transformed royal beauty into something fiercer. Without the gown and crown, she could have walked into a Blackstone settlement without anyone mistaking where she came from.

Valdor stared. He did not feel the stunned admiration Amor awakened in him, no warmth of attraction or fascination with beauty. This was recognition without memory. He looked at a royal woman dressed in the kingdom’s finest fashion and saw features shaped like his family’s. Like his own.

Confusion passed beneath his expression without reaching the surface. The woman looked toward Vervath. Her obsidian eyes narrowed. Then she rose.

The movement came too quickly for courtly greeting.

She crossed the sitting room in several swift strides, gathering the front of her gown just enough to clear her feet. Vervath lifted one hand, perhaps intending to stop her, but she was already within reach. She seized his wrist, turned beneath his arm, and drove one shoulder into his chest.

The chieftain’s balance broke. Valdor stepped forward.

Before he intervened, the queen hooked one leg behind Vervath’s knee and used his momentum to bring him down upon the thick carpet. She followed smoothly, twisted his arm behind him, and locked her other forearm around his neck. The entire exchange took only a few breaths.

Vervath struck the floor with an offended grunt. The queen pinned him in a headlock. Valdor stopped.

The motion had been too precise and too familiar to be an actual attack. Neither royal guard reacted. The attendant quietly closed the door behind them as though the kingdom’s queen wrestling a foreign high chieftain onto the carpet belonged to ordinary protocol. Vervath attempted to roll. The queen adjusted her weight without effort.

"[Gaah! Release me!]"

"[No.]"

"[I am a visiting leader!]"

"[You are also my little brother.]"

Valdor’s gaze sharpened.

’Little brother?’

The queen tightened the hold. Vervath grabbed her forearm and tried to create enough space to escape, but she shifted her hips, pressed one knee against his back, and trapped his wrist more securely. His size should have made the position impossible to maintain. Experience compensated for the difference.

They had fought like this countless times. Every movement anticipated the other. Vervath knew where she would shift. She knew how he would resist. The queen grinned.

"[Still as slow as tree sap.]"

"[Humph! I am being careful because you are old.]"

She tightened the headlock. Vervath choked.

"[Gaahhh! Older! I said older!!]"

"[You implied old.]"

"[You are older than me!]"

"[And still stronger!]"

"[That is debatable—mmph!]"

She twisted his wrist slightly. Vervath’s face pressed farther into the carpet.

"[It is not.]"

He glared sideways toward Valdor, who remained standing several feet away.

"[Help!]"

The queen looked toward him. Valdor did not move. Vervath appeared betrayed.

"[I raised you, you ungrateful brat!]"

"[You told me not to interfere in family disputes.]"

"[This is different!]"

"[How?]"

"[I am losing!! Aagggh!]"

The queen laughed.

"[Hohohahahah!]"

The sound carried no polished royal restraint. It was loud, rich, and deeply Blackstone, filling the elegant sitting room until even one of the female guards outside seemed to shift in concealed amusement. Valdor’s confusion grew.

Vervath tried once more to escape. His sister moved with him. She released the trapped wrist only to catch his shoulder and bend him backward across her raised knee. One arm secured his chest while the other pulled beneath his chin, forcing his spine into a stretch that would have been therapeutic if delivered with less enthusiasm. A loud crack came from somewhere near his upper back.

Vervath squealed. The sound was startling enough that Valdor almost stepped forward again.

"[Mercy!!]"

The queen leaned closer.

"[What was that?]"

"[I yield!]"

"[Louder!]"

"[I yield!!]"

"To whom?"

Vervath’s face twisted with humiliation.

"[My... elder sister.]"

"[And?]"

"[The stronger warrior!]"

Her smile widened.

"[And?]"

"[The most graceful woman in the kingdom!!]"

She released him. Vervath rolled away immediately, one hand moving toward his back as he glared from the carpet.

"[That last part was extortion!]"

"[It was truth!]"

"[You attacked me before greeting me!]"

"[You avoided me for three days. I was just making sure, as an elder, you correct your mistake.]"

"[We arrived two days ago!]"

"[Then you began avoiding me before arrival. I am queen and therefore am right by law.]"

Vervath pushed himself upright. He looked less like the high chieftain who had stood before King Cassian without fear and more like an irritated younger brother who had repeated the same defeat throughout childhood. His beard had become disordered, one ceremonial bead hung crookedly, and the fur at his shoulder had twisted beneath him. The queen remained perfectly composed except for one loosened strand of black hair.

She smoothed her gown. Valdor watched them. The truth assembled itself slowly.

This woman was Vervath’s sister.

His father had an elder sister within the royal palace.

The elder sister was the queen.

Valdor had never been told. The queen’s attention moved toward him. For several long seconds, neither spoke.

She examined his stance, the distribution of his weight, the angle of his shoulders, and the position of his hands. Valdor had shifted automatically when she attacked Vervath, one foot set behind the other and his body turned enough to protect the centerline. He remained ready for the possibility that she would test him next. The queen’s mouth curved.

"[Good...]"

Valdor did not relax. She stepped toward him. His stance adjusted by a fraction. Her eyes brightened with approval.

"[At least one of you learned instinct.]"

Vervath rose from the floor.

"[I have instincts!]"

"[Pfft! You walked through the door first completely unguarded.]"

"[You summoned me here! Of course I wouldn’t expect you to act like when we were kids.]"

"[Yes, you opened the door and trusted the welcome. How you are still alive, I will never know. The Peaks have truly blessed you, little brother.]"

"[You are the queen! Of course I would trust you to act like one. That was my true mistake!]"

"[I was your sister first.]"

"[That does not make assault ceremonial!]"

She ignored him. Her gaze remained upon Valdor.

"[How did a man like Vervath produce a son who notices danger before it reaches him? Peaks, bless my next child to be more like my brilliant nephew.]"

Valdor looked toward his father. Vervath’s expression suggested he had endured this insult before. The queen nodded thoughtfully.

"[You definitely must have inherited it from Sarka. Ah, then that would mean my baby won’t be like you at all. What a shame.]"

Valdor’s posture changed. Only slightly. The queen noticed.

"[You definitely have her instincts...]"

She said.

"[Her eyes were lighter, but she watched rooms the same way. Always measured doors before people.]"

Valdor’s voice remained controlled.

"[You knew my mother?]"

The queen’s expression softened.

"[Mhm, very well.]"

That answer struck harder than the revelation of blood. Valdor knew Sarka’s life through family, tribe elders, hunting stories, and his own memories, but no one had mentioned a sister of Vervath who became queen. A woman who apparently knew Sarka well enough to recognize her habits in him had been living within the kingdom palace for years. The omission felt too deliberate to be accidental.

He looked toward Vervath. His father adjusted the fur at his shoulder rather than meeting his gaze. Valdor’s suspicion sharpened.

"[What is happening?]"

The queen glanced toward Vervath.

"[You told him nothing? That’s too much even for you, Vathy]"

"[I-I had planned to... eventually.]"

"[Oh? When?]"

"[... Later.]"

"[You have had twenty-five years.]"

"[He is twenty-five now...]"

Vervath protested.

"[The early years do not count!]"

"[They count most of all, you brat!]"

Valdor’s eyes narrowed. The queen looked back at him. For the first time, her royal authority entered fully into the room—not as a crown, title, or polished clothing, but as the confidence of someone accustomed to controlling difficult truths. She extended one hand, palm open.

"[I am Queen Samara] Solaris."

Valdor did not take the hand.

"[I know your title.]"

Amusement flashed in her eyes.

"[Heh, you sound like Sarka.]"

"[He wants the other name.]"

Vervath muttered. Samara looked toward her brother. Then she turned back to Valdor.

"[Before I married] Cassian, [I was Samara Rhazien.]"

The family name settled heavily. Valdor’s face remained still.

Inside, the revelation shifted every understanding he possessed of the treaty, his family, and the kingdom’s relationship with Blackstone. The queen was not merely a woman from the tribe. She belonged to his father’s bloodline.

His aunt.

The king’s wife was Blackstone.

Vervath rubbed his newly cracked back.

"[My elder sister.]"

"[You have established that several times.]"

"[Because she enjoys using it as a weapon.]"

Samara smiled.

"[Age is useful when the younger sibling remains foolish.]"

Valdor looked toward the sealed treaty satchel on the table.

"[Did the king know we were being brought here?]"

"[Yes.]"

Samara said.

"[The treaty papers were an excuse to bring us here?]"

"[Well, not entirely. They do require signatures.]"

"[You used them to remove us from Amor.]"

Vervath’s expression changed. Samara studied him more carefully.

"[Ah, the Moons heir.]"

Valdor’s voice cooled.

"[He was left alone.]"

"[Yes, for several minutes inside a guarded palace. I doubt anyone foolish enough to do some—]"

"[He is not well.]"

"[I... was told...]"

The queen’s gaze moved toward the moonstone clasp at his shoulder, then toward the empty place among his braids where Sarka’s mountain-glass bead had once rested. Her eyes narrowed with recognition.

"[Where is your bead?]"

Valdor became still. Vervath looked toward the ceiling. Samara followed that response. Her attention sharpened.

"[Vathy, explain.]"

His father sighed.

"[The Moons heir wears it now.]"

The queen stared. For once, she appeared genuinely speechless. The silence lasted longer than Vervath’s had in the corridor. Then Samara’s eyes widened slowly.

"[Sarka’s bead?]"

"[Yes.]"

"[The one she carved before his first hunt?]"

"[Yes.]"

"[The one he refused to remove when the cord split?]"

"[Yes.]"

"[The one he threatened to fight Elder Braum over when Braum called it childish?]"

Valdor looked toward Vervath.

"[You told her that?]"

"[I had to. It was too funny not to share with family.]"

Samara stepped closer to Valdor. The amusement within her face transformed into intense interest.

"[You gave Sarka’s bead to] Amor Moons."

"[Yes.]"

"[How long have you known him?]"

Vervath answered.

"[Today, three days.]"

Valdor’s gaze cut toward him. Samara stared at her brother. Then she laughed. Vervath pointed at her.

"[You reacted the same way I did!]"

"[Ahem! I did not make a face.]"

"[You are making it now!]"

The queen covered her mouth briefly, though the effort failed to contain the laughter.

"But oh my, three days."

"[We met before.]"

Valdor said. Samara’s eyes brightened.

"[Ah! The lavender baby!]"

Valdor’s ears warmed. That was enough confirmation. Samara looked toward Vervath with triumph.

"[You said he would forget.]"

"[He was five, I assumed he had.]"

"[How can a man forget his first love? Didn’t he cry during the entire return journey.]"

"[Three days...]"

Vervath corrected.

"[Five technically. Also weeks after every time you saw those firehearts bloom you’d tear up.]"

Valdor’s face became flat. Both older siblings stopped. Then Samara smiled with dangerous affection.

"[You still make the same face.]"

Valdor looked toward the door. Every minute spent inside this room left Amor alone longer. Whatever family revelation his aunt wished to stage could wait until the young noble was safely inside the carriage or back at House Moons. The foreboding feeling had not disappeared. It had only changed from unknown danger to irritation at being manipulated away from Amor.

"[I need to return.]"

Samara’s amusement faded enough to notice the urgency.

"[He is protected.]"

"[Not by me.]"

The answer came too quickly to disguise. Vervath looked at him. Samara looked even more closely.

Valdor did not care. He turned toward the door. His aunt moved into his path. The shift was subtle but deliberate. Valdor stopped.

His stance changed again. Samara saw it and approved, though she did not attempt the same attack used upon Vervath.

"[Wait. Don’t you have any quest—]"

"[No.]"

Her brows rose. Vervath made a low sound of warning.

"[Valdor.]"

"[I did not agree to come here.]"

"[You were summoned by the queen.]"

Samara said.

"[I was told I was signing papers.]"

The direct challenge would have offended most royals. Samara’s mouth curved.

"[Definitely Sarka’s son...]"

Valdor waited. The queen considered him, then stepped aside.

"[Sign the release. Ask your questions. Then go.]"

"[I have no question.]"

"[Ha! You brat, I can tell. You have several.]"

"[I can ask Dad later.]"

Vervath looked troubled by that prospect. Samara gestured toward the satchel.

The documents were placed upon the table with two inkstones and the carved seals belonging to Blackstone’s envoy delegation. Valdor approached, examined the release statement, and confirmed that it contained no hidden condition beyond receipt of the original treaty copy. He signed beside Vervath’s mark. Samara watched him throughout.

"[Your mother chose your name...]"

She said. Valdor’s hand paused above the page. Vervath looked toward his sister. Samara continued.

"[She said you kicked hardest whenever the winter winds struck the lodge. She wanted a name meaning one who does not bow to weather...]"

Valdor pressed his seal into the wax. He wanted to leave. He also wanted every memory she carried. The conflict irritated him. Samara recognized it.

"[I knew all nine of you as children...]"

She said.

"[From letters, gifts, and the few visits politics allowed undercover.]"

"[You never visited us.]"

"[Not openly, no...]"

Valdor looked toward her. The queen’s expression changed. Royal life entered the conversation again, heavier now.

"[My marriage to] Cassian [was not hidden, but my bloodline was treated carefully while the treaty remained young. Many nobles accepted a Blackstone queen because the king demanded it. Fewer would have accepted the Rhazien family moving freely between palace and tribe while border factions accused us of controlling both sides...]"

Vervath’s mouth tightened.

"[We protected the treaty.]"

Samara said.

"[By lying to the children.]"

Valdor replied.

"[By leaving them outside a political struggle they could not influence.]"

"[I am not a child.]"

"[No...]"

Her gaze moved toward the empty braid.

"[You have made that pretty clear...]"

Valdor picked up the treaty satchel. He turned toward the door. Samara spoke before he reached it.

"[I want to meet him.]"

Valdor stopped.

"Amor Moons."

He looked back. The queen’s expression held no mockery now. She had recognized the significance of Sarka’s bead and understood enough about her nephew to know he would not give it impulsively, regardless of the two-day absurdity. Curiosity and concern rested together in her obsidian eyes.

"[If he asks to meet you.]"

Valdor said. Vervath looked toward him in alarm. Samara smiled slowly.

"[He knows?]"

"[Not yet.]"

"[And if he wishes to meet me, you will come too?]"

"[Yes.]"

The queen’s satisfaction became dangerous. Vervath stepped between them conversationally, if not physically.

"[There is no need to rush. They haven’t even courted yet. Give them some time, Sammy.]"

"[It’s your fault I am trying to push forward our family reunion. You hid him from me.]"

"[I hid you from him.]"

"[That is worse!]"

"[It is safer.]"

"[Ah? For whom, dear little brother?]"

Vervath did not answer. Samara looked toward Valdor.

"[Bring him tomorrow.]"

"[He is grounded.]"

The queen blinked. Vervath rubbed his beard.

"[Alley.]"

"[Stone.]"

Valdor clarified. Samara stared between them. Vervath summarized with great efficiency.

"[He ran through an alley, defeated every danger, turned to celebrate, tripped over a stone, and injured his ankle.]"

The queen closed her eyes.

"[He sounds suited to this family.]"

Valdor’s mouth nearly moved. Samara noticed.

"[You smiled!]"

"[No.]"

"[You did! Vathy, I swear he did this time! Not like when I thought I saw him smile as a baby or had to pinch his cheeks up but a real smile!]"

Vervath looked toward his son eagerly.

"[He does that now.]"

Valdor opened the door. The queen’s laughter followed him. Vervath gathered the remaining documents and hurried after his son, though Samara called him back long enough to straighten the ceremonial bead she had dislodged during the fight. She tugged it tighter than necessary. He grimaced.

"[Ow! You remain cruel as ever, Sammy.]"

"[And you remain weak, Vathy.]"

"[Humph! I am a high chieftain.]"

"[You are still the baby who cried because I ate the last honey walnut.]"

"[I was six!]"

"[Valdor was stealing noble infants at five.]"

"[That is different! Humph! Goodbye!]"

The door closed behind them. Valdor walked quickly. Vervath lengthened his stride to follow.

For several corridors, neither spoke. The attendant who had brought them remained outside the queen’s rooms and now guided them toward the main gallery, though Valdor no longer needed direction. He had memorized the turns. Every instinct pulled him toward Amor. Vervath glanced at him.

"[You are angry.]"

"[Yes.]"

"[With me?]"

"[Yes.]"

"[Samara ordered secrecy. I couldn’t just say ’we have to go meet the queen who is also my sister’ in front of Amor.]"

"[You agreed to go.]"

"[I was protecting the family secret. It was necessary.]"

"[You removed me from Amor through deception.]"

Vervath’s expression hardened.

"[The queen summoned us. Were we supposed to say no? If I know my sister, she would’ve charged down here and demanded why I said no to her! You see how she is, how can I defeat her!]"

"[Then say the queen summoned us. No need to mention she is your sister.]"

"[I knew you would refuse if it didn’t mean you had to go. You would’ve just stayed with your Little Wife and Sammy would’ve missed out on seeing her nephew. Then she would’ve still charged down here and demand why you didn’t come see her too!]"

"[Yes.]"

"[That is why I did not!]"

Valdor stopped. The royal attendant continued several steps before realizing neither Blackstone man followed. He turned and immediately looked away when he saw their expressions. Vervath faced his son.

"[You would have remained with Amor side even if the king himself demanded your presence and it was not urgent.]"

"[Yes.]"

"[The queen required our presence because she missed us. She wasn’t able to watch over you and see you grow up with her own eyes.]"

"[Amor could have come.]"

Vervath considered that.

"[Sammy probably did not want their first meeting to be in the corridor after a trial.]"

"[That was her choice then.]"

"[She is your aunt.]"

"[She is a stranger.]"

The words hurt Vervath. Valdor saw it. He did not take them back.

Blood did not become familiarity through revelation. Samara knew stories about his childhood, carried memories of his mother, and shared his face, but Valdor had lived twenty-five years without her presence. He could not be expected to replace that absence with immediate loyalty. Vervath exhaled.

"[You are right.]"

Valdor’s anger shifted slightly. His father rarely surrendered an argument without several additional attempts at winning it.

"[I should have told you...]"

Vervath said.

"[Long ago.]"

"[Yes.]"

"[I will explain everything.]"

"[Later.]"

Vervath nodded. They resumed walking. The distance to the main gallery seemed longer now. Valdor thought of Amor sitting wrapped in his mantle, injured and unable to move quickly. He imagined Alphonsins returning, another courtier approaching, or the panic returning while no familiar hand remained nearby. Each possibility sharpened his pace.

Then he heard voices.

One belonged to Amor. The other belonged to Alphonsins. Valdor stopped breathing.

They rounded the final corner.

Amor sat where they left him. Alphonsins stood before the chair. His hand clasped Amor’s. A tear moved down Amor’s cheek. The treaty satchel struck the floor. Valdor’s body moved.

Vervath caught him from behind only because he had anticipated the reaction from the first glimpse. Both arms locked around Valdor’s torso as the younger warrior surged forward. His strength dragged Vervath several steps across the marble.

"Gggrrrrr—"

A growl rose from Valdor’s chest. Everything concerning the queen vanished.

Family secrets, political caution, and twenty-five years of concealed history became distant beside the sight before him.

Alphonsins had touched Amor again. Amor was crying.

Valdor pulled harder. Vervath’s boots slid.

"Ggggrrrrrrrrrr!—"

Valdor’s growl deepened.

"Run!"

The chieftain called toward the duke. Alphonsins looked back. Vervath tightened his hold with every remaining measure of strength.

"I am not as young as I was, and he is not a small cub anymore!"

Valdor took another step. The muscles in Vervath’s arms strained.

"If you value your life..."

He warned.

"Leave!"

Alphonsins hesitated. Vervath felt his grip begin to fail. Whatever complicated secret waited inside the queen’s sitting room no longer seemed like the most dangerous revelation of the morning.

His son was in love.

And judging from the force required to hold him back, that love had already become strong enough to terrify kings.