Chapter 24: Evelyn’s Approval

Naya returned to her room still holding the unfinished embroidery, irritation simmering somewhere beneath her ribs. It wasn’t the mistakes that bothered her, the crooked stitches or the pattern she’d warped without meaning to. What bothered her was realizing, piece by piece as she walked back through the corridors, that Evelyn had set her up to fail from the very beginning.

Mira looked up from folding linens the moment Naya walked in and immediately caught her expression.

"What happened?"

"She wasn’t teaching me embroidery," Naya said, dropping the fabric onto the table.

Mira paused. "No."

"You knew."

Mira didn’t deny it. She explained, carefully, that the embroidery wasn’t simply decorative work meant to fill idle hours. Certain patterns and symbols were traditionally used within the royal household to represent the territories, the King’s authority, the Luna’s own household, and the responsibilities that came stitched into all of it, quite literally.

"And nobody thought to mention any of this to me," Naya said.

"It wasn’t my place."

"Everyone expects me to behave like the King’s wife," Naya said, gesturing sharply at the door, "and not one person has bothered to actually teach me what that means."

Mira didn’t argue the point.

"They gave me the crown," Naya said, "and expected me to already know how to wear it."

Mira let that sit for a moment before adding that Evelyn wasn’t the first person at court to question whether Naya could handle the position.

That caught Naya’s attention immediately. "Who else?"

Mira hesitated, avoiding names, explaining instead that people at court had been watching her closely since the moment she became Queen under such strange circumstances. It wasn’t only gossip anymore.

Naya understood. She wasn’t merely Ronan’s unwanted replacement bride anymore, whispered about behind hands at dinner. She was the King’s wife, and half the palace was waiting to see whether she deserved to be.

A knock interrupted the thought before Naya could decide what to do with it.

Evelyn stepped inside without waiting for an answer, carrying the piece of embroidery Naya had left behind in the workroom.

Naya’s guard went up instantly. She assumed Evelyn had come to gloat.

Instead, Evelyn set the fabric down on the table and began pointing out, calmly and without malice, exactly where Naya had gone wrong. She explained what each symbol should have represented, and how placing one beside another entirely changed its meaning.

Naya listened, frustration building with every correction.

"Why did you let me make the mistakes," she finally asked, "if you already knew I didn’t understand any of this?"

"Because I wanted to know whether you knew," Evelyn said.

Naya realized, with a fresh wave of irritation, that there had never been a correct answer to give in that room. Evelyn hadn’t been testing her stitches at all. She’d been testing her knowledge of the role itself, and Naya had walked into it blind.

"I don’t appreciate being tested without warning."

"I wasn’t trying to embarrass you," Evelyn said. "If I wanted to do that, I wouldn’t have come here afterward to correct you."

That took some of the heat out of Naya’s anger, though it did nothing to earn her trust.

"What exactly were you expecting me to know?" Naya asked.

Evelyn explained, without softening any of it, that the King’s wife was never simply a woman who lived beside the King. The position carried weight of its own. She was expected to understand the major territories, the royal traditions, the ceremonial duties, the charitable programs, the family alliances, and the expectations of every pack that answered to the crown.

"In this world," Evelyn said, "the Queen doesn’t sit around wearing elaborate dresses and waiting to be admired. She represents the royal household. She can influence social policy, charitable decisions, relationships between territories. She may have to stand beside the King during political crises and understand enough not to embarrass or undermine the crown while doing it."

"I already handled the provisions problem in council," Naya said.

"You did," Evelyn admitted.

Naya waited for the rest.

"And you were fortunate the King allowed you to make the decision."

That irritated her immediately. "Ronan didn’t make that decision for me. I saw a problem, and I fixed it."

Evelyn studied her a moment. "Then perhaps you’re more capable than I assumed."

It was the first genuine acknowledgment Evelyn had offered her since they’d met, and for a second Naya almost let herself feel it.

"Capability alone won’t make you fit for the crown," Evelyn added.

Naya realized, watching her, that this wasn’t about Ronan at all. Evelyn wasn’t jealous. She was questioning whether Naya could actually carry the weight of the position, and that made her far more difficult to dismiss than a woman simply competing for the same man’s attention.

"Are you telling me I should step aside?" Naya asked.

"That’s not what I said."

"I don’t need your approval."

"I don’t expect you to," Evelyn said, entirely unbothered.

The answer irritated Naya more than an insult would have.

"Good," Naya said. "Because I didn’t come here asking for it."

"Approval isn’t what the palace will demand from you," Evelyn said. "Competence will."

"Why do you even care?"

Evelyn considered the question before answering. "Because the woman standing beside Ronan will eventually hold influence over this kingdom, whether she wants it or not. If she succeeds, everyone benefits. If she fails, everyone pays for it."

That landed differently than anything else Evelyn had said. For the first time, Naya wondered if Evelyn’s hostility wasn’t personal at all, if she genuinely believed she was protecting something larger than a private grudge.

Evelyn moved toward the door, then paused before opening it.

"You can keep doing what you’ve been doing," she said. "Surviving one day at a time. Reacting whenever someone challenges you." She turned back slightly. "Or you can learn."

"Learn what?" Naya asked.

Evelyn’s gaze drifted to the royal crest mounted above the fireplace, its wolf and crescent moon catching the afternoon light.

"Everything you should have been taught," she said, "before they put you beside the King."

Naya followed her gaze to the crest, and something shifted quietly inside her chest. Until this moment, she had treated her place beside Ronan as something forced onto her, a sentence to be endured until she found some way out of it.

But if she was going to remain here, she refused to remain incompetent.

She didn’t want Evelyn’s approval. She wasn’t even certain yet whether she wanted Ronan’s. But she wanted to know, if she was going to stand beside him in front of his council and his kingdom, that she stood there because she’d earned the right to.

Evelyn reached the door and paused one last time.

"Perhaps you should stop trying to survive this palace, Lady Naya."

Naya looked at her. "What should I do instead?"

Evelyn’s eyes settled once more on the crest above the fireplace.

"Learn how to rule it."