Chapter 35: A Royal Mess in Progress
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If you’ve ever tried to lie your way out of a bad grade, multiply that by ten, add a throne room full of judging eyes, and subtract any trace of an actual plan.
That’s where I was.
Right in front of a king. Elven king. Regal. Glowing. Not in the figurative way—literally glowing. Like someone installed warm sunset LEDs under his skin. His crown looked like woven sunlight, his robe shimmered, delicate as dew on glass, and his expression screamed, "Why are these peasants breathing my air?"
The room was silent. Majestic. Intimidating. Silent.
We stood in a line—me, Ayame, Akane, Mei, Rin—trying not to sweat through our clothes. Which was hard, because I had already started leaking panic from every pore.
The high court circled us like a ring of thrones carved from living wood. A dozen elves, all sharp-jawed, symmetrical, and suspiciously young-looking. Like an immortal boy band dressed in forest armor. Not a single wrinkle. Not even a tired eyelid. I think even their shoes were flawless.
I cleared my throat.
Big mistake.
"Speak," the king said, his voice calm and warm—but in that volcanic before eruption way.
"Uh... Your Grace, we are... honored to... stand in the great presence of..." I blinked. "Um."
"Oh gods," Ayame muttered.
"We bring urgent tidings from—uh—beyond the Human Realms," Akane added, stepping up.
"For trade," Rin lied. Badly.
"Rescue mission!" Mei chirped, too cheerfully.
The king raised a single eyebrow. It was the most judgmental facial twitch I’d ever seen.
"You do not come with a banner. You come unannounced, without cause or summons. You stumble with your words, contradict yourselves before my High Court, and insult our intelligence." His voice dropped. "This is not your land. And this council is not your audience to deceive."
Oh great. We were about three seconds from being turned into decorative wall hangings.
I opened my mouth—
"He came to ask for my hand in marriage!"
Elira’s voice sliced through the tension like a lightning bolt through butter.
The entire room froze.
My brain short-circuited.
"I came to—what?" I whispered.
"Yes," Elira said confidently, stepping forward in a flowy royal dress like she hadn’t just detonated a political bomb. "Prince Ren—" (I nearly choked) "—has crossed lands and sea, through danger and time, to ask for my hand in the sacred union of the Eternal Blossom."
I looked at her. She was smiling. Actually enjoying this.
"The young women with him," she gestured gracefully, "are his sisters. Each trained in the healing, emotional, and traditional arts required to serve and support a bride-to-be in our culture."
Ayame coughed violently.
Akane closed her eyes.
Rin was staring at the ceiling like she was trying to astral project out of the room.
Mei bowed. Because of course she did.
The court started whispering. I caught things like "political alliance," "timing of the Flame War," and "the Blossom Prophecy," which was definitely not something I wanted to be part of.
I leaned toward Elira and hissed, "Are you serious right now?"
She leaned in, and held my arm, still smiling. "Would you rather I let him turn you into tree mulch?"
"...Carry on, your Highness."
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She turned back toward the king, her posture poised but still warm with amusement. "As I was saying, Father... he’s here to ask for my hand. The others are my companions—sisters, in a way. They’ve come to prepare me for the potential... union."
The silence that followed was thick enough to slice through.
The king’s brows drew together. His golden circlet caught the light, but his face—ageless, unreadable—was all shadow. Around us, the court murmured among themselves. A few narrowed their eyes. One or two seemed amused. One even scoffed.
I could feel Ayame inching closer to my side.
Mei looked more insulted than concerned, mouthing, Hand in marriage?
Rin was frozen. But I could tell she was calculating something behind those calm eyes.
My system pinged in my mind like an annoying bell I couldn’t silence.
> [SYSTEM WARNING: POWER SUPPRESSION FIELD DETECTED – ADAPTIVE OUTPUT LOCKED TO 3%]
[SYSTEM SUGGESTION: Smile. Nod. Try not to get executed.]
I swallowed hard. "Noted."
The king finally leaned forward on his obsidian throne, eyes gleaming with the weight of a thousand judgments.
"You say this... stranger came to ask for my daughter’s hand. And what, exactly, makes him worthy of such a thing?"
My throat tightened. Of course he was going to ask that. Of course.
Before I could sputter out something half-sane, Elira answered for me—smooth, calm, confident.
"He saved my life. Twice."
She didn’t mention the accidental part. Bless her.
"He protected the orb I entrusted to him. He crossed realms to find me. That alone proves courage."
The king’s eyes snapped to me. Heavy. Sharp. Ancient. "Is that true?"
I didn’t dare blink. I gave the smallest nod I could manage. "I didn’t come here expecting...this. But I couldn’t ignore the message. I thought she was in danger. And if that meant walking into it myself...I was ready."
For a second, no one spoke.
Then someone in the court chuckled behind me. "Romantic. Or foolish."
Another voice, smoother, muttered, "Or both."
The king raised a hand, and silence followed like obedient dogs. "We shall discuss this in private."
Then he turned to Elira. His voice didn’t lose an ounce of that edge. "But if you are lying... know that no claim of affection will protect them from our judgment."
Elira bowed her head slightly. "Understood."
And just like that, we were escorted out.
Not to the dungeons this time—small mercies—but deeper into the palace. More velvet. More gold. Less air.
Somewhere behind those walls, decisions were being made.
And all I could do was wait.
Wait... and try to keep my head attached to my body.
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