Chapter 68: A queen knows when to smile

Serena informed Naya that Lady Celestine Arkwright, a senior noblewoman from one of the kingdom’s oldest packs, had requested a private luncheon with the Queen.

“Is this a courtesy visit,” Naya asked, “or a test?”

“In court,” Serena said, “those are often the same thing.”

Celestine had served the royal household through several reigns, Serena explained, influential and impeccably mannered, accustomed to being consulted about tradition whether anyone asked her or not.

“What does she care about most?” Naya asked.

“Continuity. Ceremony. The belief that things were better when people knew their place.”

“Does she know her place?”

Serena’s mouth twitched. “She believes she does.”

Naya decided to accept the invitation regardless. She wouldn’t spend her reign avoiding everyone who might disapprove of her. She chose a dress that was elegant but comfortable, refusing to dress like someone else’s idea of a Queen.

Celestine greeted her warmly at the luncheon, offering a compliment on how Naya had handled the ceremonial route dispute. The praise sounded genuine until she added that the Queen had shown a refreshing willingness to listen to people who understood the kingdom’s traditions.

Naya caught the implication immediately, the quiet assumption that someone else must have guided her decisions.

Rather than challenge it directly, she asked Celestine about the ceremony’s history instead. The older woman happily launched into its origins, tracing through generations of small changes along the way.

“Which changes do you believe strengthened it?” Naya asked once she’d finished. “And which weakened it?”

The question caught Celestine off guard, something flickering behind her composed expression. Naya wasn’t dismissing tradition. She was demonstrating that tradition had always evolved through the decisions of people who cared enough to preserve it properly.

“Some changes were necessary,” Celestine admitted eventually.

“I hope to make decisions worthy of the same consideration,” Naya said.

The conversation grew more substantive from there, though Celestine remained far from won over.

“How do you find the burden of ruling beside Ronan?” Celestine asked over the meal, her tone polite, though the assumption beneath it was clear enough.

“He’s been willing to hear my opinions,” Naya said, “even when they differ from his own.”

“A King’s wife must understand when to advise privately and when to support publicly,” Celestine said.

“Discretion has its place,” Naya agreed. “But I won’t promise silent obedience. If my husband asks for my judgment, I intend to give it honestly. If I disagree with him, I’d rather explain why than pretend otherwise.”

“And if he disagrees with you?” Celestine asked.

“Then we have a conversation.”

Naya didn’t boast about her influence or lean on Ronan’s affection as proof of her worth. She simply spoke as someone who expected her judgment to be taken seriously because she’d worked to make it useful.

She found Lyra in the gardens afterward, who immediately demanded to know how many compliments Naya had survived.

“She asked how many it took before I got defensive,” Naya said, recounting the exchange.

“Celestine has a reputation for testing newcomers that way,” Lyra said. “Seeing who bites back.”

“I wanted to tell her exactly what I thought of her.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I was having lunch, not declaring war.”

Lyra laughed. “You’re becoming dangerously diplomatic.”

“You were perfectly polite when we first met.”

“I was hungry. It changes my character.”

Their joking eased the last of Naya’s frustration, and Lyra reminded her that one noblewoman’s opinion didn’t define the entire court. Some people would need time to trust her. Others might never bother. She didn’t need to win every single one of them over in a single afternoon.

Ronan found her later that day and asked how the luncheon had gone.

She told him about Celestine’s assumptions without asking him to intervene on her behalf.

“She’s always valued tradition,” Ronan said. “And she can be difficult when she believes the court is changing too quickly.”

“Do you agree with her views?”

“She’s offered useful advice before,” he said. “That doesn’t mean every assumption she makes is correct.”

“I don’t want to become a Queen who’s praised for being agreeable while quietly denied any real authority,” Naya said.

“I don’t want that for you either,” Ronan said. “I won’t expect you to agree with me simply to protect my reputation.”

She appreciated the reassurance, though she also told him plainly that she intended to build her own relationships with the court, on her own terms.

“I know,” he said, and let it rest there.

A smaller evening reception followed, Celestine present once again, and during a conversation about the Moon Court, another noble made a dismissive remark about Naya’s recent reforms, suggesting she’d been fortunate to receive so much guidance.

Before Ronan could say anything, Naya answered herself, laying out the reasoning behind the changes and acknowledging the people whose experience had helped shape them, without minimizing her own role in any of it.

Celestine listened quietly from nearby, and once the conversation moved on, she approached Naya directly.

“You handled that well,” she said.

It wasn’t an apology, and it certainly wasn’t a declaration of loyalty. But it was something earned, small as it was.

“Thank you,” Naya said. “If you see a problem with future reforms, I’d rather you tell me directly.”

“I may take you up on that,” Celestine said.

Naya hadn’t won her over completely. But something had begun between them that felt a great deal more respectful than where they’d started.

As the reception wound down, Ronan joined her near the balcony doors.

“I heard how you handled that,” he said.

“Are you going to praise me again?”

“Would you prefer criticism?”

“Not particularly.”

He smiled, brushing his fingers against hers. “What impressed me wasn’t that you silenced her. It’s that you gave her a reason to listen without surrendering your own position.”

Naya leaned closer. “Careful. You might make me enjoy these receptions.”

“Then I’ll have to find a way to keep you humble.”

She laughed, and he kissed her cheek before offering his arm. They returned to the reception together, not as a King escorting a woman who needed his protection, but as two people who’d each learned, slowly and deliberately, exactly what the other brought to the room.