Chapter 9: Naya’s First Duty

Naya expected another ceremony. Something with speeches, formalities, more eyes measuring her from a distance.

Instead, Mira led her toward the council chamber, adjusting the sleeve of her dress as they walked. "Today’s your first official duty," she said. "Not a performance. Actual work."

"What kind of work?"

"You’ll see."

The chamber doors opened to reveal several council members already seated around a heavy oak table, documents spread in front of an empty chair clearly meant for her. Naya took her seat, aware of every gaze tracking the movement.

"One of the traditional responsibilities of the King’s wife," a council member explained, sliding a stack of papers toward her, "is overseeing the distribution of provisions to pack families in need."

Naya glanced at Mira, who gave her a small, encouraging nod from near the wall.

"Review the allocation," the man continued, "and sign it."

Naya looked over the documents. At first, everything appeared orderly, columns of numbers assigned to different territories within the pack lands. Then she began comparing figures more carefully, and something didn’t sit right.

"This can’t be correct," she said.

"My lady?"

"The wealthiest territories are receiving significantly more provisions than the ones struggling the most." She traced a finger down the column. "Some of these families already have full stores. Others barely have enough to last the season, and they’re receiving less."

"The allocation follows tradition," the council member said smoothly.

"Tradition doesn’t explain why families who don’t need help are getting more than families who do."

"You aren’t familiar enough with our distribution system to challenge it."

"I may not be familiar with your traditions," Naya said, keeping her voice level, "but I can read numbers. How many families are currently affected by the shortage?"

The man hesitated before giving her the figure. It was larger than she expected.

Naya set down her pen. "I won’t sign this."

The room went still.

"This isn’t a suggestion, my lady."

"Then why was it placed in front of me?"

Nobody answered immediately.

"The King’s wife is expected to cooperate with this council," another member said.

"Cooperation doesn’t mean signing something I believe is unfair," Naya replied.

The pushback grew sharper after that, voices layering over one another, reminding her of her inexperience, her position, her obligations. Naya held her ground through all of it, her hands steady on the table even as her pulse quickened.

The doors opened.

Ronan entered, and the room fell silent instantly.

"What’s the delay?" he asked.

"Your wife refuses to sign the allocation," one council member said.

Ronan’s gaze moved to Naya. "Why?"

She didn’t flinch. "Because it’s wrong." She turned the document toward him, pointing out the disparity between the wealthy territories and the ones falling behind. "If you’re asking me to serve as your wife in this role, I won’t put my name to something that hurts the people I’m supposed to represent."

Ronan studied the numbers she indicated, his expression unreadable. "What would you change?"

The council exchanged uneasy glances.

"Reduce the excess going to the territories that don’t need it," Naya said. "Redirect the difference to the families actually struggling." She’d already worked the numbers herself while they argued; she recited the adjusted figures without hesitation.

Ronan listened without interrupting, his eyes moving between her and the document.

When she finished, silence settled over the table.

Ronan looked at the council. "Make the changes she’s proposed."

One member started to object. "Your Majesty, the tradition—"

"She was given the responsibility," Ronan said, cutting him off. "Let her perform it."

The council reluctantly agreed, murmuring among themselves as revised documents were drawn up. Naya reviewed the new figures carefully before finally signing her name beneath them.

It was a small act. A single signature on a single document. But it was hers, made from her own reasoning, and no one in the room could pretend otherwise.

For the first time since arriving at this estate, Naya felt something other than fear settle into her chest.

She felt capable.

Kael caught up with her and Mira as they left the chamber, his grin already in place.

"Not bad for your first day," he said.

Naya let out a breath that was almost a laugh. "I nearly got thrown out of the room."

"That’s usually how you know you’ve made an impression."

She found herself relaxing slightly around him, the tension of the meeting easing under his easy humor.

Ronan appeared from a side corridor just as Kael offered his congratulations again. His eyes flicked toward Naya’s small smile, and something in his jaw tightened before he crossed the distance between them.

"She doesn’t need your approval," he said.

Kael raised an eyebrow. "I wasn’t aware she needed yours either."

A brief, charged silence passed between the brothers. Ronan’s look carried a clear warning. Kael simply smiled, unbothered, and stepped away with a parting glance at Naya.

She watched the exchange, confused by the tension beneath it, but Ronan offered no explanation before turning and walking off in the opposite direction.

Later, back in her room, Naya asked Mira if she’d actually handled the council the right way.

"You just did something most new queens spend years learning," Mira said, folding a shawl over the back of a chair.

"What’s that?"

"You didn’t let them intimidate you. But you didn’t challenge them just to prove a point, either. You had a reason, and you stood by it."

Naya looked down at the copy of the signed document still in her hands. For the first time, she understood that people had listened to her today because of her own judgment. Not because she was Elara’s sister. Not because she was Ronan’s replacement.

Because of her.

She was still turning that thought over when Ronan appeared in her doorway sometime later, his expression as guarded as ever.

Naya straightened instinctively, bracing for whatever came next.

He didn’t mention the necklace. He didn’t bring up the punishment, or the bruises still healing beneath her sleeves.

"You did well today," he said.

Naya blinked, certain she’d misheard him. "Was that a compliment?"

His expression didn’t soften. "Don’t get used to it."

Then he turned and left, his footsteps fading down the hall before she could think of anything to say in response.

It was such a small thing. Four words, delivered without warmth, without a single trace of the tenderness she imagined a real compliment should carry.

And yet Naya stood there long after he’d gone, unable to shake the strange, unwelcome warmth that had settled somewhere beneath her ribs.