Free Web NovelChapter 44: Episode 044: Putting Tyara in her Place
Tyara sat at a massive, polished desk made of dark iron wood.
Which was covered in stacks of stiff parchment and wax-sealed trade reports. She adjusted her posture, her spine straight as a spear. Her tired eyes scanned a report about grain shortages in the northern territories.
Outside her office,. Guards marched on the stone walkways. Messengers ran back and forth. The kingdom was busy, but the room itself was a cold island of silence. Tyara liked the silence. It allowed her to think.
The grain yield in the north is down by twelve percent, she noted, dipping a quill into an inkwell. If the winter lasts longer, we will need to dip into the central reserves. That will affect trading with the Wolf Pack.
She scratched a quick note on the margin of the parchment. Being a leader was mostly math. It was about keeping enough food in the bellies of the people so they didn’t look at their neighbors with hungry eyes. It was about making sure the laws held, even when the winter winds tried to tear them down.
She reached for another scroll, but the door burst open before her hand touched the handle.
Her personal attendant, a young tiger-shifter called Jayce, stumbled into the room. He was panting. His face was a shade of gray that suggested he had just seen a ghost. He didn’t wait for her permission to speak. He didn’t even remember to bow.
"My Queen," Jayce choked out, his hands shaking as he clutched a crumpled piece of parchment. "There is a disaster in the lower market district."
Tyara narrowed her eyes as she simply laid her quill down on the desk with a soft, controlled click. She looked at Jayce, her expression entirely unbothered.
This was the Queen, Tanith wanted her to behave like.
"Start from the beginning, Jayce," she said, her voice cool and steady. "What happened?"
"The merchant stalls," Jace gasped, his eyes wide. "They have been razed. The entire southern quarter of the market. The weavers were selling their silk for the solstice tribute, and... and Sienna arrived."
Tyara’s eyes narrowed just a fraction. "Sienna."
"She demanded the entire supply of lavender silk for her own vanity," Jace continued, his voice rising in panic. "The merchants refused because the silk was already pledged to the royal coffers. She became angry. She called her personal guards and ordered them to destroy the stalls. She said that a noble of her standing shouldn’t have to wait for supplies to be inventoried for the common good. People are hurt. The tribute is ruined."
Tyara stood up. She was not a large woman, but she carried herself with a weight that made the room feel suddenly smaller. She smoothed the front of her dark tunic, her movements methodical and slow.
Sienna.
The name left a bitter taste in her mouth. Sienna was a noble female born to a high-ranking family, a family that had once served under Queen Roxann. Because of her father’s past position as the regent to Tyara’s own father, Sienna had grown up with a silver spoon in her mouth. She walked through the palace as if the floor were honored to touch her feet.
She was the Queen and not Sienna.
But Sienna had no royal blood. She was a relic of an old, dying system. She acted like a princess because she didn’t know how to act like anything else. She spent her days draped in furs, mocking the very people who kept the kingdom running.
And above all, Sienna hated the new world.
She hated the fact that Roxy had taught them to cook, clean and share. She hated that nobles were expected to contribute to the pack. She viewed the Matriarch’s legacy as a humiliating decline, a betrayal of the old ways where nobles did nothing and prey did everything.
"Where is she?" Tyara asked. Her voice was quiet, but it had the sharp, deadly ring of a drawn sword.
"The courtyard," Jayce whispered, backing away toward the door. "She is... she is bragging about the silk she took."
Tyara didn’t say another word. She walked past Jace, her footsteps silent on the marble. She didn’t call her guards. She marched through the long, sun-drenched halls of the palace, her face a mask of absolute, frozen calm.
She could hear the shouting before she even reached the arched entryway to the courtyard.
"It was filthy silk anyway!" a woman’s voice shrieked. "I did the merchants a favor by burning the rest! They were wasting my time!"
Tyara stepped out into the bright, open courtyard.
The air was filled with the smell of scorched fabric and expensive perfume. A group of merchants stood in the center, looking entirely miserable as they tried to salvage what was left of their ruined stalls. freewёbn૦νeɭ.com
Sienna stood among them. She was draped in layers of vibrant, costly fabric, her arms crossed tight over her chest. She had a group of four guards standing behind her, their weapons drawn, their faces set in aggressive, intimidating lines. She was sneering at a merchant, her chin tilted high in the air as if the very sight of him made her want to retch.
"I am a daughter of the high courts," Sienna was declaring, her voice shrill and arrogant. "My father was a regent when the world made sense. A merchant who deals in mud and grain will not question me. If I want the silk, I take the silk. That is the order of things."
Tyara stepped onto the gravel path. Her movement was so subtle that Sienna didn’t even notice her at first.
"The order of things," Tyara repeated, her voice carrying across the courtyard with icy clarity.
The entire courtyard went dead silent. The merchants dropped their heads. Sienna’s guards, recognizing the Matriarch, instantly lowered their weapons and took a panicked step back.
Sienna spun around, her expression one of bored annoyance that turned into a stiff, defiant sneer when she saw Tyara. She didn’t bow. She didn’t offer a polite greeting. She simply looked Tyara up and down, her gaze mocking.
"Oh," Sienna drawled, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. "The Matriarch. I was just dealing with some... local difficulties. These merchants are so incredibly slow. It is very hard to find quality help in these times."
Tyara didn’t stop walking. She closed the distance between them, her steps steady and sure. She didn’t watch the merchants. She didn’t look at the ruin Sienna had caused. She looked directly into Sienna’s arrogant, painted face.
"You have destroyed the solstice tribute," Tyara stated, her voice devoid of any emotion.
Sienna let out a sharp, dismissive laugh. She tossed her hair back, her eyes flashing with pure contempt. "Tribute? That is a relic of the Matriarch’s strange, peasant-loving policies. I am a noble of this realm. My needs come before a harvest festival for the masses. You should be thanking me for cleaning up this stall area. It was an eyesore."
She took a step toward Tyara, her eyes narrowing. "You act as if you are the Queen, but we all know the truth. You are just a shadow of Roxy. You are a puppet for the pack’s whims. You respect the legacy of commoners but forget who your father was. You forget the honor that true nobles deserve."
She leaned in, her voice a poisonous whisper. "My father ruled this land when your father was playing house with your mum. Do not think you can look down on me because you were given a title you did not earn."
The guards behind Sienna looked terrified. The merchants held their breath.
Tyara stood completely still. She felt the weight of her father’s crown on her head. She felt the heavy, unspoken expectations of the entire pack. She felt the legacy of Roxy, a woman who had taught them that every life had value, that a kingdom was only as strong as its weakest link.
Sienna’s father had been a regent. He had been a man who believed in the old ways, the ways of blood and chains and suffering.
Tyara looked at Sienna. She saw the spoiled princess. She saw the pride that had driven so many before her to ruin.
Tyara did not argue. ƒree𝑤ebnσvel.com
She did not mention crop yields. She did not mention the law. She did not mention the respect due to the throne.
She simply stepped forward, her palm connected directly with the center of Sienna’s face.
Sienna’s head snapped violently to the side, and the spoiled noble sprawled backward, landing hard on her butt.
