Chapter 12 - The Whispering Courtiers
As the weeks passed, a subtle poison began to spread through the high court once more. While the common people adored Princess Aurelia, several powerful high-born noble families—who had benefited from Malakor’s corrupt reign—began to conspire in secret.
Led by Duke Vane, a powerful nobleman with deep pockets and a ruthless ambition, the corrupt faction began spreading dark rumors. They claimed that Mara was not truly human, but a creature created by ancient blood alchemy, pointing out how her mark glowed whenever she was near the King.
At a grand state banquet, Duke Vane raised a silver wine glass, his voice dripping with false concern. "Your Majesty, we all rejoice in the return of your daughter. But surely, a girl who spent seventeen years as a servant among the lowest class lacks the refined diplomatic mind needed to govern our trade treaties with the Western Empire. Perhaps... a Regent Council should oversee her decisions?"
The room grew tense. Several courtiers nodded in agreement, eyeing Mara’s simple elegance with quiet disdain.
Mara stood up from the royal table. She did not raise her voice; instead, her eyes flashed with absolute authority.
"Duke Vane," Mara said, stepping forward. "While you were sipping imported wine in this hall three years ago, I was scrubbing the floors beneath your feet. I overheard every illegal bribe you accepted from the Northern Smugglers Guild in exchange for tax exemptions."
Duke Vane’s face drained of color. "That is... an absurd accusation!"
Mara turned to Captain Vance. "Captain, fetch the third ledger hidden behind the false oak paneling in Duke Vane’s study. The one bound in black leather."
Vance smiled, bowing deeply. "Right away, Your Highness."
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The Duke collapsed back into his chair, speechless and trembling. The entire court stared at Mara in awe. She had used the very weapon they thought was her weakness—her seventeen years as an invisible servant who saw and heard everything—to destroy her enemies before they could even draw a blade.
King Alistair chuckled softly, placing a proud hand over his daughter’s. "Never mistake a phoenix for a fragile songbird, my lords."
