Page 46 of Unravelled
Below, murmurs broke out. Ren leaned against the stone beside Mira, arms crossed as he watched the scene unfold. “Does anyone even know what this is?… To collapse like this, it seems like more than grief?” Mira whispered, more to herself than to him.
Ren’s gaze slid sideways to her. “My father was always a sentimental man.”
Asric slammed a palm onto the table below. “We need to crown a regent, or the realm will tear itself apart while we wait for a ghost to speak!”
Mira flinched, her heart pounding. Even from a distance, she could feel the desperation in the room. The way the kingdom stood on the edge of something vast and dangerous.
Mira nodded, the weight of it pressing into her ribs. “If the people saw this… if they knew the truth of what’s happening behind these walls…” Ren said nothing, just waited. She swallowed hard.“There’s no one steering the ship. They’re just waiting.”
“And he won’t.” Ren’s voice trembled slightly. Mira turned to look at him fully now.
“They need someone who can lead. Someone who understands both sides, the palace and the people. Someone who can decide instead of watching the kingdom rot from inaction.” Ren’s face showed none of the usual charm, not even the sharp, knowing glint he wore like armor. He reached out, cupping her face gently in both hands. His palms were warm, calloused, trembling just slightly.
“Mira,” he said, steadying himself through her. “You need to stay here.” Her brows drew together. “Ren…”
“No.” His voice hardened, not with anger, but with urgency. “You stay hidden. Whatever happens next, nobody can’t know you were here.” His thumb brushed her cheekbone once, a slow, aching touch, like he wasn’t sure he’d be able to do this if he let go too soon.
“I need to do this,” he said. “But not if you’re exposed. Not if they can use you as leverage before I can move.” She searched his eyes, something rising in her chest. Fear, disbelief, maybe even pride. Ren looked down at the council before he slipped from the alcove back the way they had entered.
Below, the chamber had dissolved into noise, voices overlapping in rising waves. Some called for a regency, others for preemptive war, and still others clung to indecision like a shield. Then the wooden door swung open with a sharp crack. Silence fell like a blade.
Heads turned as Ren entered. Not slowly, not with ceremony, but with purpose. He didn’t glide or posture. He stalked forward, each step measured, grounded, utterly certain. Gone was the flirt, the provocateur, the half-smiling storm she’d always known. What walked into the room now was something else. Something inevitable. He moved not like a man with a claim, but a man with a reason. Not born into rule, destined for it. A prince.
Ren didn’t wait to be acknowledged. He walked the length of the chamber and came to stand at the head of the table. The queen’s seat, untouched for months. He did not hesitate. He sat. A shocked murmur rippled through the room. Ren placed both hands flat on the table. No dramatics. Just stillness, calm and cutting.
“We are fractured,” he said simply. “Half of you argue for action. The rest hide behind a throne that no longer speaks.” No one interrupted. “We need three things,” he continued, voice steady, deliberate. “A regent to stabilize the line of succession. Reinforcements to the eastern border before Kharador grows bold. And intelligence on the uprising that’s taking root within the kingdom.”
He let the words settle like stones. “We move quietly. We send trusted agents to the villages, not soldiers. We listen. Find the leaders, the weak points, the truths behind the whispers. If we rush, we will make martyrs. If we wait, we invite rebellion.”
Lady Brenna blinked, slow and deliberate. “And tell me, who, exactly, is meant to serve as regent?”
“I’ll serve,” Ren said without pause. “As steward in the father’s stead, until his voice returns, or the realm decides otherwise.” A few heads snapped up.
Asric’s jaw tightened. “You presume much.”
“I act,” Ren replied coolly. “And the realm needs action.” Ren leaned forward slightly, his tone colder now. “You want to call a vote? Call it. But while youdebate legitimacy, our enemies organize. Choose your priorities carefully.” A hush fell again. The weight of the moment pressing against every shoulder.
Then Lord Garran spoke. “And if we back you? What then?” Ren’s answer came without hesitation. “Then we stand united. We quiet the unrest. We secure our borders. And we remind every corner of this kingdom that its heart still beats, even if its king cannot speak.”
The room sat in stunned silence, until Asric exhaled sharply, the sound halfway between a scoff and a growl.
He rose slowly from his chair, knuckles white against the polished wood. “Of course it would come to this,” he muttered. Eyes turned toward him. Asric didn’t care. He was building steam now, voice growing louder, more theatrical.
“You break hearts, Ren. That’s what you’re good at. Whispered promises and vanishing acts. That’s what you’ve always been, a shadow with charm and no spine for consequence.”
Ren didn’t move. He simply watched him with that maddening calm, unbothered by the storm brewing across the table.
Asric jabbed a finger toward him. “You are not the rulers, Bonded Betrothed. Nor are you of the late queen’s line. You have no standing here. “No,” Asric's voice rose, not with anger, but with incredulous flair. “No, we will not crown a bastard boy with a silver tongue and a fondness for teasing women.”
Asric ignored the murmurs that followed, pressing forward, his voice gaining force. “I’ve served this realm for over three decades. I’ve outlasted two monarchs and more than a few ill-advised heirs. You want strength? Stability? A spine behind the throne while the king sleeps in silence?” His hand struck the table, fingers splayed. “Then name me regent.”
That set the room alight, advisors shifting, exchanging wary glances, voices rising in uncertain murmurs. Asric raised his chin, commanding their attention like a man who already saw himself robed in authority. “If we wait, we fracture. If we placate rebellion, we embolden it. The boy wants to feed the border? I say we close it. Fortify it with steel and flame.”
Asric swept his gaze across them. “We strike first. Hard. Let Kharador know that Bharalyn still has teeth. And as for the insurrection brewing within , we root it out. Public trials. Swift punishment. No whispers, no shadows.”
His eyes flicked briefly toward Ren. “This is not the time for sentiment or experiments with charming illegitimate sires and poetic ideas of unity.” Then back to the council. “It is the time for rule. For order.”
He paused, letting his words sink in, then added, “Give me command, and within a fortnight, you’ll have peace. Not the soft kind, but the kind that lasts.” For a moment, no one spoke.
