There are moments when a signature is enough.
And others, when only a lesson will do.

The dissolution was meant to be a formality.
But Renee hadn’t come for closure.
She came to ensure he remembered.

Thareon looked up. “The case is clear. The engagement contract has been breached, reviewed, and acknowledged by both courts. We are here to finalize its dissolution.”

He looked toward the parties. “Does either side wish to speak to the terms of separation?”

Xavier reached for the folder and opened it with care. He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t rush. Every word was measured, deliberate — a blade drawn slowly but confidently.

“Princess Renee Arcadia Nosfera,” he said, “has agreed to dissolve the engagement with a financial settlement distributed over five years. Fixed-rate. No interest beyond what is allowed under the sovereign commercial code. No property disputes are being pursued. All terms are fully documented and sealed.”

He looked directly at King Albrecht — not with deference, but with clarity. “Her generosity in this matter is not a diplomatic requirement. It is a personal decision. And not one that will be repeated.”

Albrecht nodded slowly, the lines on his face deepening. “It is… far more than fair. And we are grateful, Princess.”

Still, Renee said nothing.

She didn’t nod. Didn’t acknowledge the thanks.

She sat as still as frost — the kind of stillness that came not from fragility but from restraint.

Then Elias laughed, sharp and bitter. “You’re thanking her? After what she did? You think a payment plan makes this right?”

He slammed a hand on the table. “She ruined us.”

The words hung like smoke — ugly, thin, weak.

Seralyne’s voice cut clean through them.

“She didn’t ruin anything.”

Elias blinked, thrown off.

His mother turned her eyes on him — glacier-calm. “You did.”

Everyone went still.

Seralyne didn’t raise her voice. She didn’t need to.

“You humiliated her. You paraded her as lesser. You insulted her. Broke a sacred engagement publicly. Mocked the power behind her name. You assumed she had no weight. You didn’t even read what you signed.” Her gaze was merciless. “And now you face the consequences. That’s not her fault. That’s yours.”

Elias paled.

Renee? She still hadn’t moved.

Hadn’t spoken.

But the pressure in the room had shifted. Heavier. Sharper.

Sylus’s jaw clenched.

Because he realized something unsettling:

If she did speak, heads would roll.

And part of him wanted her to.

Even though she hadn’t looked at him again, hadn’t touched him, hadn’t shown a flicker of anything personal — she had still wrapped the entire room in her control.

And Sylus’s dragon wasn’t the only thing kneeling anymore.

It was his attention.

His instincts.

His focus.

And as the silence settled after Seralyne’s scolding, Renee sat still.

The tension in the chamber had grown into something physical—palpable like the charge before a lightning strike.

Prince Elias shifted in his chair.

Then he spoke.

“I don’t want the dissolution anymore.”

The words hung in the air—unexpected, defiant.

Xavier didn’t move. Thareon raised an eyebrow. Seralyne closed her eyes briefly.

Across from him, Renee looked at Elias for the first time in several minutes. Her face remained unreadable.

“Why?” she asked, voice calm.

Elias straightened in his seat. “Because I understand I made a mistake.”

Renee tilted her head, eyes calm and distant.

“Do you?” she asked. “Or are you just regretting letting go of the status and power that came with my name?”

Elias’s lips twitched. He hesitated just long enough to give himself away—then smiled, that arrogant curl he always wore when cornered.

“I could get used to your body.”

It was crude.

Renee didn’t blink. But the room shifted.

Sylus let out a low, involuntary growl deep in his chest. His dragon surged forward like a tide, possessive and boiling.

Thareon’s eyes flicked toward his son, sharp with interest.

Renee’s composure didn’t crack, but her voice chilled by degrees.

“You still don’t understand the weight of your choices,” she told Elias. “You still think this is a negotiation. That everything can be undone with a smile or a shrug. That a crown is owed to you by birth rather than earned through burden.”

“You’re not ready to wear one,” she finished.

Elias’s face twisted. “You’re just a third princess. A spare. A chess piece in someone else’s war.”

Renee’s lips curled, but the smile never reached her eyes.

“This chess piece,” she said, “just gave you a mate.”

Gasps were stifled. King Albrecht blinked. Xavier arched an eyebrow, impressed.

Sylus’s heart stopped for a beat.

Elias’s voice turned sharp and ugly. “You act high and holy while spreading your legs for Damien like a prize to be won.”

The room stilled.

Even Albrecht turned to his son, stunned.

Renee’s smile vanished.

“Do you have proof of that claim?” she asked quietly.

Elias opened his mouth—but no words came.

“Witnesses? Documentation? Magical trace?

He swallowed and looked away.

“That’s what I thought,” Renee said. “No evidence. No truth. Just an insult from a boy who doesn’t like being told he lost.”

She turned from him entirely and faced his parents.

King Albrecht sat straight-backed, tense but composed.

Queen Seralyne was still, her eyes sharp.

“I bear no grudge against either of you,” Renee said softly. “You welcomed me into your household. You treated me with respect. For that, I remain in your debt.”

Seralyne said nothing, but her nod was slight. Albrecht offered a tired breath. “You’ve been more than diplomatic.”

“I’m not being diplomatic,” Renee said, eyes narrowing slightly. “I’m being measured. There is a difference.”

She folded her hands atop the table.

“But your son,” she continued, “needs counseling.”

Albrecht looked startled. Seralyne arched an eyebrow.

“Not in law. Not in politics,” Renee said. “In self-awareness.”

She turned back to Elias, her tone sharp enough to slice open any remaining pride.

“You confuse inheritance with leadership. Affection with possession. You think that women orbit you—but you fail to see the ones who pass you.”

Her voice quieted to something almost intimate. Almost mournful.

“You wouldn’t recognize a queen… even when she stood in your shadow and held your crown for you.”

That broke him.

“You think you’re untouchable?!” Elias exploded, shoving up from his chair.

“You think you’re better than everyone—untouchable—just because you’ve hidden behind silence and theatrics?!”

His voice shook with anger.

“You’re just a name. A pawn with a bloodline.”

Renee didn’t move.

Then—snap.

Elias yanked off his glove.

And before anyone could stop him—he threw it across the table.

It landed with a dull slap in front of Renee’s seat.

The room gasped.

Sylus’s chair creaked under his grip.

Queen Seralyne bolted upright. “Elias—no! Retract that this instant!”

But it was too late.

Renee lowered her eyes to the glove.

And a slow, deliberate smirk curved her lips.

The kind queens wear just before they order a war.

The glove lay between them, quiet and damning.

Renee stared at it for a moment, then picked it up between two fingers — like it was something left behind by a dog. Her lips twitched upward into a smirk. Not wide. Not cruel. Just... inevitable.

“Challenge accepted.”

Queen Seralyne rose sharply. “Elias—retract this. Now. You don’t know what—”

Renee didn’t give her the chance.

“We have royalty present,” she said calmly, placing the glove on the table with surgical precision. “Let’s begin now.”

Elias was already pacing at the center of the room, puffed up, flushed, angry, and vibrating with insulted pride.

Thareon’s gaze shifted to Renee. “I’ll have safety protocols—”

Renee cut him off with a raised hand, still elegant.

“Unnecessary.” She didn’t look away from Elias. “I won’t be using magic.”

The room fell silent.

Xavier turned his head slightly, hiding a subtle smile behind his fingers.

Elias snorted. “You think you can beat me without magic?”

Renee just tilted her head.

“You don’t need a sword to beat a child with a stick.”

Albrecht muttered something under his breath. Seralyne didn’t even bother to hide her grimace anymore.

Elias squared his shoulders. “Stakes?”

“If you win,” Renee said, voice level, “the engagement is restored. The dissolution voided.”

Elias nodded, smug.

“If I win,” Renee continued, “everything on the dissolution doubles.”

A pause.

Albrecht frowned slightly. “Everything?”

Renee’s lips curved. “Everything.”

And that was all she said.

Thareon exhaled, now realizing this had been her play from the start.

Renee stepped into the cleared space between them. Elias postured, shoulders squared, fists flexing.

Xavier leaned against the wall, unbothered.

The moment Elias shifted into his stance—

Renee moved.

One palm.

A single, precise pulse of raw force — no magic, just devastating technique.

Elias was launched off his feet, flying backward and crashing through the heavy meeting room doors. They splintered open as his body hit the hall floor with a sickening crack.

The silence that followed was stunned.

Before anyone could move, Renee was already gone — a blur of white.

She stepped into the hallway just as Elias was trying to lift himself.

Her heel slammed down — straight into his shoulder, pinning him in place with one elegant, brutal motion.

He screamed.

He twisted and shouted a spell, wild and panicked.

She caught his wrist mid-cast.

Without hesitation, she turned his hand toward his face — the magic triggered, and the spell backfired, slicing a harsh burn across his cheek.

He howled.

She twisted his wrist, and it snapped like dry wood.

Elias collapsed, sobbing from pain, pinned by weight and humiliation.

Renee stood still for a heartbeat.

Then she stepped off his shoulder, heel slick with blood, and walked back into the room like nothing had happened.

She returned to her chair, picked up the cloth Xavier had prepared, and began calmly wiping off her heel.

“I believe it’s clear who won.”

Xavier, already seated, placed a fresh dissolution contract on the table.

Renee wiped the last trace of blood from her heel and handed the cloth to him, who folded it without comment.

Outside, medics rushed to retrieve Elias’s broken form.

King Albrecht reviewed the new parchment with a grim look. “This… says ten years.”

Renee looked up at him, serene. “Everything on the dissolution doubles.”

Albrecht blinked—then exhaled and shook his head.

Seralyne’s lips curved faintly. “You planned this all along.”

Xavier smiled. “She rarely walks into a room without knowing the exit.”

Renee chuckled softly, her voice warm and unbothered.

Across the table, Sylus sat in stunned silence.

His dragon hadn’t stopped pacing since the fight. The bond pulled at his skin like pressure behind his ribs. But the deeper ache came from something else.

She was more than powerful—more than dangerous.

She was designed to be a queen.

And she wasn’t his.

Thareon’s eyes remained fixed on her for a long moment, then slowly turned to his son.

Now he understood.

Now he saw why Vireth had called her not a princess, but a calamity wrapped in elegance.

And why she admired her so completely.