My deep soul

Chapter 44

The grand hall of Silla’s assembly was heavy with incense and murmurs. Rows of ministers and nobles filled the chamber, their silk robes rustling as they bowed toward the dais where Queen Jiso sat in cold composure. The carved throne stood gleaming under shafts of morning light, awaiting its sovereign.

The doors swung open with a deep creak, and the guards’ voices rang out:

“His Majesty, King Jinheung!”

All heads turned. Jinheung entered, tall and imposing in full royal attire. His steps echoed on the polished stone floor, the air growing taut as he ascended the altar and seated himself on the throne with measured grace. His gaze swept across the chamber—a gaze sharp enough to freeze those who dared whisper.

The assembly bowed low. Even Park Youngshill forced his head down, though his eyes narrowed with venom.

“Rise,” Jinheung commanded. His voice carried not only authority but a dangerous edge.

The ministers straightened, waiting. The silence that followed was suffocating until Jinheung broke it.

“Today,” he began, his tone steady but charged, “I speak not of war, nor law, nor tribute. Today I speak of the heart of Silla’s future—your queen.”

The words struck the chamber like a thunderclap. Whispers flared immediately, disbelieving and tense. Queen Jiso’s face drained of color, though she masked it with a forced composure.

Jinheung’s dark eyes gleamed as he leaned forward slightly. “I have chosen my queen. She is no foreign princess, no pawn of politics. She is Lady Jinyoen—one of the highest noble lines of Silla. A woman who has stood beside the Hwarang, who has risked her life for our people, who has shown wisdom, courage, and loyalty to this kingdom. She will be my consort. She will be your queen.”

Gasps filled the chamber. Some ministers looked shocked, others exchanged wary glances.

Park Youngshill was the first to step forward, his voice sharp and full of feigned concern. “Your Majesty, forgive me, but this is reckless. A king’s marriage is not a private matter of affection—it is a duty to the state. To bind with Lady Jinyoen is to make an enemy of Baekje and Goguryeo alike, for they will see the throne as weak and easily swayed.”

Another minister, one loyal to Youngshill, quickly added, “Indeed! What if her influence clouds judgment? Can we afford to risk the throne for—”

“Enough!” Jinheung’s voice boomed, his glare cutting like a blade. The objecting ministers fell silent instantly, beads of sweat on their brows. His voice lowered but carried with more menace than a shout: “You dare question me? The throne is not weakened by love. It is strengthened by it. A queen is not a symbol for foreign eyes—she is the pillar beside her king. And Lady Jinyoen is that pillar.”

Queen Jiso’s hands clenched on her armrest, her lips tightening, but she could not stop him.

Then, another voice rose—Minister Kim, one of the loyal elders. “Your Majesty, if I may speak—Lady Jinyoen is indeed of one of the noblest lines of Silla. Her union with the crown will reinforce the throne, for her lineage itself commands loyalty among many noble houses. Her wisdom has already been witnessed through her service in medicine and counsel. To have her as queen is not only right but advantageous.”

Another minister chimed in, emboldened, “Yes, Your Majesty. This marriage will consolidate the noble families under your reign. It is a wise decision.”

The murmurs shifted—some in agreement, some still uncertain, but the tide began to turn. The chamber was no longer entirely against him.

Jinheung leaned back into his throne, his expression fierce but calm. His eyes lingered on the objectors just long enough to send shivers down their spines, then moved on. “Then it is decided. Lady Jinyoen will be crowned queen. Any who dare oppose her oppose me. And let it be known—those who dare raise their voices against her worth will answer to my sword, not my council.”