Chapter 64 The Poisoned Throne
The night air in Chandlok was heavy with an almost suffocating silence when Sana returned from the dark forest. Her fingers tightened around the crescent-shaped pendant resting at her chest. It pulsed faintly against her skin, as though it carried her mother’s heartbeat.
Every step she took back into the palace echoed with determination.
She was no longer wandering, no longer lost. She had purpose now.
The palace corridors flickered with torchlight, shadows stretching long against the marble walls. And waiting at the grand entrance of the royal hall was Roshni. Draped in crimson, her lips curled into a smirk, her eyes glinting with venom.
“So… my little stray bird returns,” Roshni’s voice carried across the hall like poison dressed in silk. Her gaze dropped deliberately to the pendant. “Tell me, Sana… did you find proof of your so-called lineage? Or are you still chasing ghosts like your pitiful mother?”
The word mother dripped from her tongue like a curse.
Sana stopped before her, her face calm but her eyes blazing. “Just wait and watch, Roshni. Your empire of lies is falling brick by brick. I will make sure the world knows who you truly are.”
Roshni laughed, sharp and cold. “You? A forgotten girl with no name? You’ll end the reign of a Queen? Don’t fool yourself, Sana. You are nothing but your mother’s shadow—a loser who thought love was stronger than power.”
For a second, Roshni leaned closer, her whisper sharp enough to cut. “And look where that got her. In the dirt.”
Sana’s jaw clenched, but instead of trembling, her lips curved into a small, steady smile. “At least she died loving, Roshni. What will you be remembered for? Poison and betrayal?”
The Queen’s smirk faltered, just for a heartbeat, before she turned on her heel. But her mind was already burning with a new resolve—Sana was becoming too bold, too dangerous. She couldn’t risk letting her grow any further. That night, she vowed, Sana would be destroyed.
The royal banquet glittered like a jewel under chandeliers of glass and fire. Golden plates shimmered, goblets overflowed with wine, and the air was thick with the sound of music and false laughter. Nobles whispered, merchants boasted, and servants rushed like ants around the grand hall.
At the far end of the table sat Hatim, dressed in black, his sharp eyes scanning the crowd with a kind of detached boredom. To the world, he was the glorious prince, the undefeated warrior. But behind his mask was a storm. Ever since Sana’s return, his heart was no longer at peace.
She sat across from him tonight, quiet, her posture regal despite the daggers of whispers piercing her from all directions. The pendant gleamed faintly at her neck, catching Hatim’s eyes more times than he wanted to admit.
He hated her. Or at least he told himself so.
He hated the way she had come back, dragging old wounds and whispers of betrayal.
He hated the way she looked at him with those eyes, like she saw the boy he once was, not the monster he had become.
But more than anything… he hated the way he still cared.
The servants laid out dishes—roasted meat dripping with spices, golden bread, silver bowls filled with salad and nuts. Sana reached for the salad without thought.
“Don’t,” Hatim’s voice cut across the chatter, low but firm.
She froze, startled. He leaned forward, his gaze hard. “It has peanuts. You’re allergic.”
The table fell silent. Sana blinked, her hand hovering above the bowl. For a moment, her chest squeezed—not from the allergy, but from the fact that he remembered. After everything, after all his cruelty, he still remembered the small, fragile details of her.
The nobles glanced at one another, sensing the strange tension. Roshni’s eyes narrowed from the head of the table, fury coiling inside her.
Sana drew her hand back slowly. “Thank you,” she murmured, barely audible.
Hatim stiffened, as though the words had burned him. He pushed his plate aside, standing abruptly. “I’m not hungry.” His voice was cold, clipped, as he left the table, striding out of the hall.
Sana’s gaze lingered on his retreating figure, her chest tight with emotions she didn’t want to name.
Roshni, however, smiled inwardly. This was her chance.
As the feast wore on, Roshni raised her jeweled hand, signaling the servants. A special dish was brought forward—a golden goblet filled with sweetened wine, fragrant and glittering under the light. It was placed directly before Sana.
“My dear,” Roshni said smoothly, her voice dripping with mock kindness. “You’ve been away from the palace for far too long. Drink. Tonight is a celebration.”
Sana stared at the goblet, the sweet scent tickling her nose. Her eyes flicked up to Roshni’s face, catching the slight twitch of her lips—the satisfaction of a predator who believed the prey had walked willingly into the trap.
For a moment, Sana almost reached for it. Almost.
But then she remembered the witch’s words. The stars will guide you, child of both shadow and light.
She lifted the goblet, meeting Roshni’s gaze directly.
“Celebrations are meaningless when the wine is poisoned.”
Gasps rippled across the hall. Nobles whispered, their eyes wide as Sana’s words cut through the air like a blade.
Roshni’s mask cracked for just an instant before she let out a cold laugh. “Poison? Why would I do that?”
But Sana didn’t flinch. Her voice rang louder. “You’ve tried to silence me before, Roshni. But I’m still standing. And now, I swear before this court—I will reveal every crime you’ve committed. Your lies, your betrayals, your bloodied hands. The truth will burn through this palace like fire.”
The hall erupted in chaos—gasps, murmurs, a few fearful cries. Hatim, who had paused just beyond the doorway, heard every word. His fists clenched. His heart pounded with something he didn’t want to name—fear, anger, and a sharp, burning hope that he couldn’t extinguish.
The hall was a storm. Nobles murmured like restless waves, servants froze mid-step, and guards’ hands tightened on their swords as if waiting for the Queen’s command.
Sana stood tall at the center of it all, her hand still on the untouched goblet. The pendant at her throat gleamed with a soft, steady light. It was as if her mother’s spirit was with her, steadying her trembling heart.
Roshni rose from her throne, her crimson dress spilling like blood across the marble floor. Her eyes, sharp as daggers, pinned Sana in place.
“You dare accuse me of such treachery before my court?” Her voice rang with mock outrage, but underneath it, there was something else—a tremor of fear.
“Yes,” Sana said simply. Her voice was steady, though her hands were cold. “I dare. Because truth deserves to be spoken, no matter how many crowns try to silence it.”
Gasps spread again, the hall buzzing with whispers: Is it true? Could the Queen…?
Roshni raised her chin. “A nameless girl dares challenge the throne of Chandlok? Do you all hear her madness? This is what happens when lies fester in the weak-minded. She thinks herself a queen because she wears a trinket and speaks of shadows.”
Sana’s hand lifted to the pendant. “This ‘trinket’ is my mother’s. Chandini, the rightful heir you betrayed. And this court will soon hear her truth.”
The nobles leaned in, wide-eyed. Some exchanged nervous glances. Others, older and grayer, seemed haunted—memories they had long buried rising again.
Roshni’s jaw clenched, but she smiled thinly. “Enough of this farce.” She turned to the crowd. “Do not let her fool you. She is nothing but a thief, a liar, and a traitor to Chandlok.”
At that word—traitor—Hatim’s chest tightened. He had hurled the same accusation at Sana many times, forced himself to believe it. But tonight, watching her stand fearless before the Queen, something in him faltered. Is she lying… or has the truth been here all along?
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The banquet was unraveling. Nobles whispered too loudly, their voices colliding. The guards shifted uneasily. Hatim stepped forward from the shadows, his tall frame commanding silence.
“Enough,” he said, his voice deep and sharp.
All heads turned.
Hatim’s gaze swept across the hall before landing on Sana. For a moment, his eyes softened—just a flicker—before he masked it again with ice. “If she accuses the Queen, then she should prove it. Otherwise, her words are nothing but slander.”
Roshni’s lips curled in satisfaction, believing Hatim had sided with her. But Sana… she saw the flicker. She saw the man torn between loyalty and doubt.
“I will prove it,” Sana said, lifting her chin. “Not tonight, but soon. And when I do, every one of you will see the blood that stains this throne.”
Her words struck the hall like thunder.
Hatim’s fists clenched at his sides. He wanted to stop her, to silence her for her own safety, but something inside held him back. Instead, he turned to the Queen. “Let her speak when she wishes. The court will judge then.”
Roshni’s smile faltered. For the first time, the balance in the room had shifted—not entirely in her favor.
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The feast resumed, but the air was poisoned by suspicion. Nobles no longer laughed as easily, and every glance at Roshni carried a shadow of doubt.
Sana sat silently, her hand still brushing the pendant. She felt Hatim’s gaze on her, sharp and unreadable. She didn’t dare look up, afraid of what she might see—hatred, pity… or something else.
When the servants brought out fruit and honeyed desserts, Sana reached instinctively for a slice of pomegranate. Before she could, Hatim’s hand darted out again, stopping her.
She blinked at him in surprise.
“There’s wine mixed in,” he said gruffly. “You can’t have it.”
For a heartbeat, their hands were close enough to touch. The warmth of his skin against her wrist sent a jolt through her, and she quickly pulled back.
“Why do you care?” she asked softly, almost bitterly.
Hatim’s jaw tightened. His voice was low, so only she could hear. “Because I don’t want your death on my conscience.”
And then, as though the admission had scorched him, he rose from the table again, muttering an excuse, and left the hall.
Sana’s heart twisted. He cared—she knew it—but he was shackled by chains she couldn’t break.
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Roshni watched them both, fury burning in her veins. Her son, the future of her throne, was wavering. The girl was becoming dangerous—not because of her claims, but because she was starting to win hearts.
Roshni leaned back on her throne, her smile tight, her mind already weaving. If poison could not silence her, then perhaps something else will.
Her eyes flicked to Hatim’s empty seat. A new plan was forming.
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The banquet ended in uneasy silence. Nobles whispered as they left, the Queen’s power no longer untouchable, Sana’s words echoing in their minds.
Sana walked out into the courtyard, the pendant glowing faintly in the moonlight. She breathed deeply, her chest heavy but her resolve unshaken. She knew the road ahead would be bloody, but tonight had proven something—Roshni was not invincible.
Behind her, unseen, Hatim watched from the shadows. His heart was a battlefield, torn between loyalty to his mother and the undeniable pull he felt toward Sana.
For the first time, he whispered to himself words he had never dared.
“What if… she’s right?”
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