The Poisoned Crown
878 Words
Written By: Zinny Mund
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Chapter 02
The sun rose slow and sullen over the Crescent Kingdom, casting pale gold light upon the palace that had long belonged to the bloodline of the Moon. But within those stone walls, joy was fleeting.
The celebration of Aurelia’s birth was brief—silent, private, hidden.
Queen Selene had not left her chambers since the night of the birth. Not because she was healing, but because something was wrong. Deeply wrong.
Her strength, once radiant, was draining with every breath. Her skin turned pale beneath its golden undertone, her once-bright violet eyes growing dimmer by the day. At first, the court whispered of exhaustion, of the toll childbirth had taken on the Queen’s body. But it wasn’t fatigue that hollowed her cheeks or chilled her skin.
It was something darker.
“She isn’t healing,” Elder Zephyr murmured, standing beside King Theron by the Queen’s bedside. “This is no ordinary sickness.”
King Theron’s jaw clenched. He watched Selene’s labored breaths, his hands fists at his sides. “What are you saying?”
Elder Zephyr’s voice dropped to a grave whisper. “I suspect poison.”
Across the room, Mira stood with a bowl of untouched broth trembling in her hands. Her eyes flicked to the Queen—then quickly away. Sweat clung to her brow despite the cool morning air.
King Theron turned sharply toward the door. “Summon the council. And have the royal kitchens sealed. No one eats or drinks anything not overseen by my hand.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.” A guard rushed off.
Elsewhere in the Palace...
Lady Calista’s heels echoed through the marbled halls, her silk gown sweeping behind her like smoke. She moved with a grace that disguised her venom. Her smile was painted, practiced, perfected.
“I heard the Queen’s health continues to decline,” she said as she passed a group of noblewomen, her tone laced with sorrow. “Poor Selene… so strong for so long.”
One of the women frowned. “She seemed fine before the birth.”
Lady Calista touched her chest delicately. “You know how these things are. Childbirth weakens even the fiercest she-wolves.”
But behind her mask of concern, something sharper glittered in her eyes.
Back in her chambers, Calista closed the door quietly and turned to Kael, who stood staring into the fire.
“She’s fading,” Calista said, unfastening her earrings with a flick of her fingers. “It’s working faster than expected.”
Kael didn’t reply immediately. “And the King?”
“Suspicious. But not certain.” She poured herself wine. “He called for the council. Elder Zephyr suspects something.”
Kael exhaled slowly. “Let him suspect. It changes nothing. Once Selene is gone, Aurelia’s birth will raise questions. And when it does, we will have answers prepared. Convenient ones.”
Calista smiled faintly. “A tale of a cursed child born beneath a bad moon. Unstable. A threat to the realm.”
“And our daughter Lyra,” Kael said softly, “will rise without challenge.”
Meanwhile...
In the Queen’s chamber, Mira paced.
Her fingers twitched, eyes darting to the tea tray she had brought earlier. She had watched Queen Selene sip it only moments before collapsing into another fit of shivers and coughs.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this.
She hadn’t meant—hadn’t thought— She turned to the mirror, her reflection pale and gaunt. Her mind screamed for silence, but guilt churned in her gut like bile. Her dreams had been haunted every night since that blood moon.
She was only following orders. She had to. They promised her freedom. Gold. Status. Safety.
But none of it tasted sweet now.
Her hands trembled as she picked up the empty teacup. It was still warm.
Behind her, the Queen let out a soft moan.
Mira jumped.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry…”
In the Cradle...
Aurelia slept peacefully, unaware of the storm gathering around her.
But in her dreams, the silver forest returned.
The white wolf was waiting.
“She is weakening,” the wolf said, sorrowful.
Aurelia’s infant form stood silently, her luminous eyes wide and watching.
“Soon,” the wolf whispered. “You will be alone.”
Nightfall…
Queen Selene stood on trembling legs beside the fireplace, robe clutched around her frail body. Mira had just delivered her evening tea and was hovering nervously nearby, wringing her apron.
The Queen’s lips pressed into a pale line. “You’ve been quiet today, Mira.”
The maid flinched. “Just tired, Your Majesty.”
Selene studied her for a long moment. “You were always terrible at lying.”
Mira’s eyes snapped up, wide with panic.
But before she could reply, the Queen lifted the teacup.
“Wait—” Mira whispered, but too late.
Selene drank.
Moments later, the porcelain slipped from her fingers and shattered on the marble floor.
Her eyes rolled back.
Her body crumpled.
Mira screamed.
Guards stormed into the room. The King wasn’t far behind.
Chaos exploded once again in the royal halls—but this time, there was no life being welcomed.
Only death drawing near.
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