Chapter 3

Three days later, Mycenae hosted its grandest celebration: The Feast of Divine Grace.

In my past life, it was on this exact night that Lyra finally crushed me under her heel.

Using a stolen relic from Olympus, she summoned nine gales of wind in front of the entire court.

Standing tall, she announced that it was a blessing from the God of Winds, declaring that with her presence, Mycenae would be invincible in war.

Kaelens eyes had gone red with ambition. Overriding my protests, he crowned Lyra the Holy Maiden of the Kingdom on the spot.

With her new title, their affair became entirely shameless.

In this life, it was the same golden hall, the same lavish feast.

Wearing my heavy royal gown, I sat coldly to Kaelens right.

Lyra, breaking all protocol, had been seated to his left—just inches away from us.

Halfway through the banquet, the lords began toasting the King.

Lyra picked up her goblet, her eyes locking onto Kaelen, oozing absolute seduction.

"Your Majesty, a toast to you."

She purred, leaning forward suddenly so that the wine in her cup accidentally sloshed right onto Kaelens chest.

"Oh, how clumsy of me!" she gasped. Instead of stepping back, she reached out and pressed her hand flat against his chest, rubbing the fabric in a highly suggestive manner.

Kaelens breath hitched. He grabbed her hand, his eyes dark with lust.

They were flirting openly, right under my nose.

After wiping away the wine, Lyra sat back. While Kaelen was distracted by a minister, she leaned over and whispered into my ear.

"My Queen," she murmured, her voice dripping with triumph. "His Majesty told me last night that I am much more... fun than you. He even said a woman favored by the gods like me is far more suited to wear your crown."

She was no longer the meek little maid who followed me around.

Kaelens favor had given her the audacity to challenge me directly.

She stared at my face, desperate to see anger, jealousy, or heartbreak.

I slowly cut a piece of roasted meat on my plate, not even bothering to look at her.

"Is that so? Then I wish you the best of luck." I calmly ate the meat.

It was like she had punched a cloud. Frustrated and furious that she had not gotten a rise out of me, Lyra snapped her head away.

As night fell, the festival reached its climax.

Lyra stood up, smoothed her skirts, and walked into the center of the hall like a proud peacock.

"King Kaelen, My Lords!" Her voice rang out crisp and clear. "On this sacred day, as a goddess, I wish to present Mycenae with a very special gift!"

The hall went dead silent. All eyes were on her.

Lyra pulled the faintly glowing relic from her robes and held it high.

"In the name of the gods, I call upon the blessing of the Winds! Nine gales to symbolize Mycenaes eternal victory!"

She began chanting, activating the relic.

Whoosh—

The first gale tore through the hall, making the torches flare wildly.

The crowd gasped. Kaelen shot up from his throne, his eyes wide with fanaticism.

Then came the second, the third...

Wind after wind swept through the hall, and the cheers grew deafening.

Lyras smile grew increasingly arrogant.

The seventh. The eighth.

Then, the wind died down.

Lyra faltered. She gripped the relic tighter and chanted louder.

The whole room held its breath, waiting for the final, ultimate blessing—the ninth gale.

But the hall remained dead silent.

One second. Two seconds. Ten seconds passed.

Not even a breeze stirred.

Sitting on my throne, I raised my goblet to hide my smirk.

Of course she could not summon the ninth wind. I had secretly drained most of the relics magic days ago.

Whispers broke out in the crowd. Suspicious glares cut toward the center of the room.

"What is going on? Where is the ninth wind?"

"Do the gods refuse to bless us? Or is she not a goddess at all...?"

"She is a fraud!"

Listening to the murmurs, I watched Kaelen and Lyras faces turn a spectacular shade of pale.