The Lycan King’s Secret Daughter - Chapter 59

SYLRA'S POV Morning light crawled across my chambers like it always did, warm and steady and familiar. And yet the moment my eyes opened, the world tilted. My stomach clenched so violently I barely had time to sit up before a wave of nausea surged. I pressed a hand over my mouth, breathing through my nose, trying to keep my dignity intact as the room dipped and steadied again. A soft gasp came from the corner. "My Queen?" Lira, one of the younger maids, hurried to my side with a bowl of water and a cloth. "Your face is pale. Should I call the healer?" I shook my head, forcing a steady breath.

"No. Just a moment. It must be the feast. Too much wine. Too many nobles speaking nonsense." Lira bit her lip, unconvinced. "You barely touched your wine last night." I lifted my chin, unwilling to give the nausea more power than it already had. "Then it's fatigue. I have a kingdom to run, Lira. Fatigue is expected." She hesitated but handed me the wet cloth. "Please promise you'll be careful today." "I will be," I murmured, pressing the cloth to the back of my neck. "Thank you." She helped me stand, but even that small movement made my vision pulse at the edges.

I hid the wince and waved her off gently. The last thing I needed was Rovan bursting through the doors demanding answers and summoning healers as if I were on my deathbed. I pulled myself together, dressed in formal Council robes, and walked toward the throne room with my head held high. If my body wanted to betray me today, I would not let it show. The Council chamber buzzed with tension the moment I entered. Nobles straightened, scribes lifted their quills, and several members of the High Circle exchanged glances sharp enough to be blades.

Rovan stood behind my chair, expression carved in stone, but when I met his eyes, softness flickered there. The memory of last night-the balcony, his confession, the warmth of his arms around me-sent a tremor through my chest. I pushed it aside and took my seat. "Let us begin," I said, folding my hands on the table. Councilor Meran adjusted her spectacles. "Your Majesty, reports from the northern border indicate troop movement. We must-" Her voice blurred. Not the words-the sound. It stretched and warped like my ears were filling with water.

I blinked hard, trying to focus on the parchment in front of me, but the letters swam. Rovan leaned down. "Sylra," he murmured near my ear. "Are you alright?" I straightened quickly. "I'm fine. Continue." But my heart was beating wrong. Fast, then slow, then too fast again. My fingers trembled under the table, and heat crawled up my neck like fever. I tried to take a steady breath, but the air suddenly felt thick. Councilor Hiran droned on. "-and if your orders do not reach the battalions by sunset, we risk-" The chamber tilted. I gripped the edge of the table so tightly my knuckles ached.