Fated Eclipse: The Illegitimate Princess And Her Alpha Suitors

Chapter 200: Nothing At All

Lyria’s POV

I said nothing.

The King continued staring at me from across the tearoom, his expression darkened by irritation poorly concealed beneath royal composure.

The silence stretched.

Then he spoke again.

”Well?” he asked. ”Have you suddenly lost the ability to respond?”

I lowered my gaze further.

”I-I did not know a response was required, Your Majesty.”

”Perhaps,” he said, ”you have a hearing ailment.”

”I am not aware of having any hearing ailment, Your Majesty,” I said.

His eye twitched.

It was small, barely visible, but it was there, and in the fraction of a second that followed it, he shifted his weight forward as though he intended to rise.

The Queen’s gloved hand settled on his lap.

She did not look at him.

She kept her gaze on me, her expression pleasant in the way that had nothing pleasant beneath it.

”Remain calm, Your Majesty,” she said to him quietly.

The King exhaled sharply through his nose. After a long moment, he sat back once more.

The Queen’s expression never altered.

It was almost impressive how easily she could maintain elegance while behaving like a venomous creature wrapped in silk.

Her gaze settled upon me again.

”What precisely,” she asked, ”did you believe you were doing during the competition?”

I frowned faintly.

The question itself was absurd.

”I-I read when instructed to read,” I answered carefully. ”And I explained the poems as instructed also.”

The Queen chuckled.

It was the same sound as before. Low and entirely without warmth.

”Do you know,” she said, ”what it is that I find most disagreeable about you?”

I did not answer.

She continued regardless.

”It is not merely your mother,” she said. ”Though that is certainly a matter of its own.”

Her voice remained perfectly conversational, as though she were discussing the weather or the arrangement of flowers in a corridor.

”Your mother made her choices,” she said. ”Foolish ones. But they were hers.”

My mother really couldn’t make a choice.

The Queen tilted her head slightly.

”You, however,” she said.

”You are insolent, in a way that I find particularly tiresome.”

I bowed my head slightly.

”You do not know your place,” she continued. ”You do not know who you are. And yet you conduct yourself as though both of those things are entirely clear to you.”

I remained quiet.

She had not asked me a question.

When she did, I would answer it.

Until then, I bowed.

”Since it appears,” the Queen said after a moment, ”that you require it spelled out for you—”

She settled back slightly in her chair.

”—I shall oblige.”

The steam from the teapot had largely dissipated by now. The room felt cooler than it had when I entered, or perhaps that was simply the effect of being in it.

”Who do you think you are,” the Queen said, ”to offer your opinion when the results of a competition are being deliberated?”

I was quiet.

”I asked you a question.”

”I am just Lyria, Your Majesty,” I said.

My voice came out steadier than I had expected it to.

”And you are right,” I continued. ”I s-should not have said anything regarding the results. It was not my p-place.”

The Queen chuckled again.

”You say that now,” she said.

She looked at me with disgust.

”But that is not what occurred, is it?”

I said nothing.

”It seems,” she continued, ”that being recognised as a Moon Candidate has rather overtaken your capacity for clear thought.”

Her voice remained pleasant.

”You have forgotten yourself,” she said. ”Or perhaps you never knew yourself to begin with, which I suspect is closer to the truth.”

She looked at me steadily.

”You may bear the name of Moon Candidate,” she said. ”You may bear the name of princess. But you are just that. A name. Nothing more.”

I kept my eyes lowered.

”The results of this competition are of no concern to you,” she continued. ”You do not deliberate. You do not offer opinions. You do not insert yourself into matters that have already been decided by those whose words carry actual weight.”

She paused then added,

”Next time,” she said, ”you will know your place.”

I bowed my head.

”Jacinta,” she continued, and her voice softened, ”is the Moon Candidate. She is the one who will be the Moon of this kingdom.”

She let that land.

”It is only her words that matter here,” she said. ”Only her opinion that carries any consequence.”

Another pause.

”You are a second,” she said. ”You are nobody. You are nothing. You are not the future Moon. You are secondary in every regard. You are not important to this kingdom.”

I nearly rolled my eyes.

Truly.

At this point, they repeated the matter so often I was beginning to wonder whether they were attempting to convince me or themselves.

If Jacinta was so unquestionably important, then why was there still such effort spent reminding me of my own supposed insignificance?

One would think certainty required less repetition.

But naturally I did not say that aloud.

I rather enjoyed remaining alive, especially since people I cared about were still alive.

So instead I bowed my head again.

”Yes, Your Majesty.”

The Queen observed me carefully, perhaps searching for resistance.

Unfortunately for her, I had spent years learning how to survive conversations exactly like this one. She had given me the opportunity to practice after all.

Silence followed, and then the King spoke again for the first time in several minutes.

”You will remember yourself moving forward.”

It was not phrased as a question.

”Yes, Your Majesty.”

The Queen rested one elbow lightly upon the arm of her chair.

”Good.”

Her tone softened slightly after that, though not kindly.

”Now then,” she said, ”there remains another matter.”

I resisted the urge to sigh.

Of course there did.

”Since you are a Moon Candidate, though in name only,” she began.

The Queen should really start getting creative with her insults. Repeating something numerous times made it lose its significance.

”...the dates with the top three winners will proceed beginning tomorrow. And so, you will spend time with people above your standing,” she said.