Chapter 8 - The True QueenThe ballroom doors were still open, letting in the cool midnight breeze from the Atlantic ocean.
Mara started to quietly slip toward the exit, not wanting to intrude on the royal chaos, when a voice called out across the silent hall.
“Mara.”
She stopped, turning around.
Adrian was walking directly toward her through the parting crowd of stunned aristocrats. When he reached her, he stopped just inches away, his dark eyes shining with deep, unmasked emotion.
“Leaving so soon?” Adrian asked softly.
“My job here is finished, Your Highness,” Mara replied, her voice maintaining its trademark calm composure, though a faint blush warmed her cheeks. “The patient is walking on his own two feet. No physical therapy required.”
Adrian chuckled, reaching out to gently take her hand.
“My legs were fine, Mara,” he said quietly. “It was my judgment that was crippled. You were the only one in this entire palace who didn't pity me, didn't flatter me, and didn't try to use me.”
Mara looked up into his eyes, a faint, knowing smile touching her lips. “Pity is useless, Your Highness. Respect isn't.”
Adrian’s smile widened. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small, heavy velvet box—not a ring, but an official royal seal stamped in gold.
“The throne room is empty, Mara,” Adrian murmured, his voice dropping to an intimate whisper. “And the kingdom needs a chief advisor who cannot be bought, bribed, or fooled by high-society smiles. Will you help me rebuild this empire?”
Mara looked at the royal seal, then back into Adrian’s steady, devoted eyes.
May you like
She placed her other hand over his, her grip firm and resolute.
“Only if I get to keep you honest,” she answered.
