"Is this the right way, though?" Violet asked suddenly, her face set in a frown.
The way Seraphira changed so instantly was unsettling. She subtly stepped away from Violet.
"What do you mean?"
There was a coldness to Seraphira now that made Violet stumble over her words.
"I—I mean... you said the Fae’s population is at an all-time low—"
Seraphira cut her off.
"All this while, you all questioned my leadership," she said, her voice turning stern. "You pointed out that I was too soft on punishment. Now that I decide to be a little more forward, you’re suddenly what? Judging me?" Disappointment flashed across her face.
"That is not what I’m trying to say," Violet tried to explain. "You’re talking about entire families here, some of whom might not have had a hand in what happened. What about a trial? Finding out the truth?"
"They are not innocent!" Seraphira snapped. "These traitors—" She pointed at the group of weeping female faeries huddled together. "—they might not have agreed to it, but they knew what their husbands, brothers and son were planning, and they chose to keep it from me!"
Violet bit down on her lip, holding back the words rising to her tongue. Something told her her mother would not listen in this state of mind.
"They once claimed to love me..." Seraphira’s purple eyes gleamed with hurt and betrayal. "They worshipped me. They said I was the best ruler after my mother. And yet..." Her purple eyes darkened. "They were willing to sacrifice me. Me—who did everything for them! So why should I pretend to be nice anymore?" Her voice was stripped of mercy.
Violet understood her mother’s hurt. Seraphira had loved the free Fae deeply. She had given, protected, nurtured them too much. So yes, that kind of betrayal would cut deeper than any blade.
But this was not the way. This was not justice, but raw, consuming anger and it was dangerous as hell. If Seraphira kept feeding this rage, it would swallow her whole, dragging her down a path she might never return from.
That terrified Violet more than anything because she knew her mother. Seraphira was soft, kind, and fierce when needed, but never cruel. Never like this.
"And the children?" Violet asked, staring at the three terrified faces clinging to their respective mothers. "Are they guilty too? Should they pay for the sins of their fathers?"
"No, they shouldn’t," Seraphira answered.
But Violet caught it. "Shouldn’t." Not "wouldn’t."
"However," Seraphira continued, her voice even, carrying a strange detachment, "according to my mother—your grandmother, Elawon—once a seed is planted, it does not remain still. It grows, it spreads, and eventually, it bears fruit."
Her gaze remained fixed on Violet as she spoke. "I would not want any of them returning one day, driven by revenge."
Violet’s stomach dropped. She knew what was coming.
"Mother—no!" she shouted.
It was too late.
A sharp metallic sound rang through the hall as the iron swords at the guards’ sides ripped free from their scabbards all at once, drawn by an unseen force. They hovered midair for the briefest second, then, moved fast, precise and merciless.
Steel flashed and in a single motion, the blades swept across the kneeling figures. Their heads fell and eight decapitated bodies collapsed.
Silence lasted for a second, followed by loud, startled gasps.
Murmurs rippled through the nobles lining the hall, shock spreading like wildfire. Some staggered back, others covered their mouths, but no one dared to speak.
Violet didn’t move. Couldn’t move. Her eyes were locked on the scene before her, her body frozen as if rooted to the ground.
One of the children, a small girl, her head had rolled just enough to face Violet. Her eyes were still open wide, uncomprehending, and somehow accusing. As if asking why Violet hadn’t stopped it.
Something inside Violet cracked.
Violet?
Alaric’s voice broke into her mind, tight with concern.
Violet, are you okay?
Asher followed immediately after.
"Breathe, love."
She wasn’t okay. Not even close.
Violet shut her eyes, her chest rising and falling unevenly as she struggled to pull in air. Her hands trembled at her sides.
This was the first time she had stood so close to an unfair execution and did nothing. What was she even supposed to do? Fight her own mother? She was the queen—and she believed she was right.
Right?
Her conscience pricked at that thought. Those were innocent children who just paid for the foolish mistakes of their family.
That is not your fault, Asher’s voice came through the bond, firm and grounding, trying to anchor her.
Violet swallowed, her throat tight, and her chest aching. I just let those children die.
You didn’t let anything happen, Violet, Asher replied. You walked into something that was already decided.
That doesn’t make it better, she shot back.
No, it doesn’t, he admitted. But this is politics, my love. And in politics, the innocent are dragged into things they never chose. It’s ugly, it’s wrong, but it happens.
Violet hated that he wasn’t wrong. Hated that part of her understood exactly what he meant. Before she could respond, Seraphira’s voice echoed through the hall.
"My court." She called out, and every head turned in her direction. Her aura alone demanded obedience, demanded silence, demanded fear.
"Let this serve as an example," she addressed the nobles, "Of what happens when betrayal is even considered. I have been patient. I have been merciful. I have given chances where none were deserved."


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