KING'S QUEEN

Hidden Agendas

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Third pov

The tension between Meera and Arad remained palpable in the days that followed. Though they avoided each other as much as possible, their interactions were increasingly fraught with unspoken emotions, like a powder keg waiting to ignite. Each time they crossed paths, Meera could feel the weight of his gaze on her, a mix of disdain, frustration, and something else—something she couldn’t quite name.

She told herself that it didn’t matter. Arad was still the cruel, calculating man she had married out of necessity, and she would never forgive him for that. But the way he had defended her in the council chambers still played on her mind, even as she tried to push it away. His cold words hadn’t softened, but his actions had revealed something more complex beneath the surface.

One evening, as the palace prepared for a diplomatic banquet, Meera found herself in her chambers, dressing for the event. She could hear the murmurs of the palace staff outside her door, discussing the high-ranking guests who would attend, including some of Arad’s most powerful allies.

She stared at her reflection in the mirror, the heavy gold jewelry weighing down her neck and wrists. The traditional attire felt more like armor than anything else, and she wondered, not for the first time, if she would ever truly fit into this world. The courtiers and officials still viewed her as an outsider, a symbol of disruption in their carefully balanced hierarchy.

As she adjusted her veil, a knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. It was Zubaira, entering without waiting for permission. She was draped in fine silk, her features sharp with the satisfaction of someone who believed they had already won.

“Meera,” Zubaira said, her voice dripping with false sweetness. “You look radiant. I suppose you’re preparing for tonight’s event. It must be quite overwhelming for you—being so unfamiliar with our ways.”

Meera met her gaze in the mirror, refusing to rise to the bait. “I’ve managed so far,” she replied coolly, her tone steady.

Zubaira’s smile didn’t waver, but there was something calculating in her eyes. She moved closer, circling Meera like a predator sizing up its prey. “Yes, but there are some things that require more than just managing. The banquet tonight is a delicate affair. Important alliances will be solidified, and the presence of the king’s wives is critical in maintaining appearances.”

Meera stiffened, sensing the trap. Zubaira had made it clear from the beginning that she didn’t believe Meera belonged in this palace—let alone by Arad’s side. The other wives had largely followed Zubaira’s lead, ensuring Meera was excluded from their circles. But the banquet would place her directly in the spotlight.

“I’m well aware of what’s at stake,” Meera said, her voice firm.

Zubaira’s smile widened slightly, a glint of malice in her eyes. “Are you? Because it seems to me that you’ve been struggling. The officials talk, you know. They question your influence, your position. They wonder how long you’ll last.”

Meera’s heart clenched, but she refused to show any weakness. “I’m not here to impress them.”

Zubaira leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “No, you’re here because the king decided you were useful. But usefulness has a time limit, especially when alliances shift. Don’t think for a moment that you’re irreplaceable.”

With that, Zubaira turned and left the room, her warning lingering in the air like a dark cloud. Meera stared after her, anger and frustration bubbling beneath the surface. She knew Zubaira was right about one thing—her place here was precarious. But Meera wasn’t about to let someone like Zubaira intimidate her into retreating.