Chapter 74: Chapter 75: one crisis at a time

Elara’s pov

“When do you propose holding this town hall?” Corvus asked, already reaching for paper to make notes.

“Two days from now.” I’d thought about this on the walk over. “Give us time to prepare, time for word to spread through every district. And hold it somewhere public, somewhere accessible. Not in the palace where people feel intimidated and out of place.”

I moved back to the map, pointing at a large open area near the center of the city.

“The old market square. It’s large enough for crowds, central enough that people from all districts can reach it without traveling too far. And it’s neutral ground, not royal property, not associated with the crown. Just a place where people gather.”

“And you would personally attend?” Lord Petrov’s tone was skeptical, almost mocking. “Listen to hours of complaints and demands from commoners? Stand there while they shout at you about their problems?”

“I would personally preside,” I corrected, keeping my voice level. “With Lord Corvus and other advisors present. We take notes. We address what we can address immediately, and we commit to reviewing everything else. We show them that their concerns matter. That they don’t need a masked criminal to be heard, they have their queen, and she’s willing to listen.”

The silence that followed was contemplative rather than hostile. I could see them thinking it through, weighing the risks and benefits.

“It’s brilliant,” Corvus said quietly. There was genuine admiration in his voice. “You’re not fighting The Voice directly. You’re not giving him the confrontation he wants. You’re making him irrelevant. Taking away his reason for existing.”

Petrov was shaking his head, but his objections seemed weaker now. “This is risky, Your Majesty. You’re betting that generosity will be seen as strength, not weakness. That giving away grain won’t just encourage more demands, more expectations. That they won’t see it as proof that protest works.”

“I’m betting that people respond to being treated with dignity and respect.” I met his eyes directly. “I’m betting that most of them aren’t revolutionaries—they’re just desperate. They’re hungry, they’re scared, they feel invisible. And if we address that desperation, if we show them they’re seen, we remove The Voice’s entire power base. He can’t rally people who no longer feel powerless.”

I stood again, addressing the full council with the authority of my position.

“Here’s what we do. Lord Corvus, you coordinate the grain distribution. I want it announced by the town crier within the hour, free grain available starting tomorrow morning at six locations throughout the lower districts. Make sure the announcement emphasizes that this is emergency relief from the crown’s personal reserves, given freely to help families struggling with food costs. No loans, no repayment, no strings attached.”

Corvus nodded, already making detailed notes. “Six locations. I’ll map them out to cover the most populated areas. We’ll need enough guards to maintain order without looking like an occupying force.”

“Lord Petrov.” I turned to him. “Despite your reservations, I need you to coordinate with the city guard. Tomorrow, I want guards visible but non-threatening at each grain distribution point. Their job is to maintain order and ensure fair distribution, not to intimidate people. No drawn weapons, no harsh words, no treating citizens like criminals for accepting help. Can you manage that?”

He looked like he wanted to argue, wanted to point out all the ways this could go wrong. But finally, reluctantly, he nodded.

“I can manage that, Your Majesty.”

“Good.” I returned to my seat, suddenly feeling the exhaustion that the adrenaline had been holding at bay. My stomach churned, and I pressed my hand against it briefly before catching myself. “The Voice has made his move. Now we make ours. We show the people of Dravara that they don’t need masked criminals to care about their welfare, they have a queen who’s listening, who sees them, who’s willing to act.”

The council members began to rise, murmuring among themselves with a mix of approval and concern. Some looked genuinely impressed. Others, like Petrov, looked like they were waiting for it all to go wrong so they could say “I told you so.”

Corvus remained behind as the others filed out, waiting until the room was mostly empty before speaking.

“That was well done, Your Majesty.” His voice was quiet, meant only for me. “Strategic and compassionate. Exactly what the situation required. You turned a potential disaster into an opportunity.”

“I hope it works.” I pressed my hand briefly to my stomach again, a gesture I caught myself making more and more often. “If it doesn’t, if people still rally to The Voice tomorrow despite everything, if they see our grain as manipulation instead of help–”

“Then we’ll address that when it happens.” He paused, studying my face with concern. “But I think you’ve made the right call. Are you well, Your Majesty? You look pale. More than usual.”

“I’m fine.” The automatic lie came easily now, worn smooth from repetition. “Just tired. It’s been a long morning, and I didn’t sleep well. Nothing to worry about.”

“You should rest before the preparations begin in earnest. Tomorrow will be demanding, and the town hall in three days even more so. You need to be at your best.”

He was right, of course. Rest felt impossible with everything spinning in my head

After he left, I remained in the council chamber for a few minutes, staring at the map on the wall.

This was a gamble. A huge one. The biggest of my reign.

If it worked, we’d undermine The Voice’s entire movement, show the people that peaceful engagement was more effective than revolutionary theatrics. We’d prove that the crown could listen, could respond, could care.

If it failed, if people saw our efforts as manipulation, if they still rallied to The Voice, if the town hall turned into a riot, I’d look weak and naive. The Voice would only grow stronger, and the unrest would spread.

But what choice did I have?

Petrov’s approach, crush them with force, arrest the ringleaders, make an example of a few, would create exactly the tyranny The Voice was accusing us of. It would prove him right, give him the martyrs he needed, turn peaceful discontent into bloody rebellion.

Doing nothing would let the movement grow unchecked, let The Voice’s narrative become the only story people heard.

This was the only path that offered any hope of resolving things without bloodshed. The only way to fight an idea without becoming a monster.

I stood, straightened my gown, and headed back toward my chambers.

Lena would be waiting. She’d be worried, even if she was still angry. And I’d promised we would talk. Promised I’d tell her everything when I returned.

But as I walked through the corridors, the acting guard silent at my shoulder, I realized I couldn’t tell her. Not today.

Not with everything about to happen . Not with the weight of the council’s expectations pressing down on me.

After tomorrow. After we saw whether The Voice showed up to an empty depot or slunk away in defeat. After I knew whether this strategy would work or fail.

Then I could deal with personal matters.

Then I could confide in Lena about the pregnancy.

Then I could figure out what to do about the child growing inside me, the secret that could destroy everything if it came out at the wrong time.

One crisis at a time.

Even if they were all colliding faster than I could manage.

Even if I felt like I was barely holding on.

One crisis at a time.

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