The Weed in the Rose Garden

The Royal Gardens of Aethelgard were famous for two things: their size and their silence.

Seraphina walked along the gravel path, inspecting the rose bushes. In her previous life, she had spent hours here, pruning these bushes herself, hoping that if she made the palace beautiful enough, Kaelen might take a walk with her. He never did.

Now, she looked at the roses with a critical eye.

"These white roses are infested with aphids," she noted, touching a wilting petal. "And the hedges are overgrown. Does the Head Gardener believe his salary is a donation?"

Lila, following a few steps behind with a parasol, looked nervous. "The Head Gardener… well, he is a cousin of Lady Elara, Your Majesty. Most staff are afraid to correct him."

"Lady Elara." Seraphina tasted the name like sour wine.

Lady Elara was the daughter of a powerful Marquess. She wasn't the King's mistress—Kaelen was too busy for affairs—but the court believed she was. She followed him like a shadow, laughed loudly at his dry comments, and acted as if she owned the palace. In the first timeline, Elara had tormented Seraphina with subtle insults, making the young Queen cry in private.

"Well," Seraphina dusted her hands. "We shall see about that."

As if summoned by the thought, a high-pitched, melodic laugh drifted through the air.

Rounding the corner near the fountain came Lady Elara. She was beautiful, dressed in a gown of shimmering crimson silk that was far too extravagant for a morning stroll. She held a basket full of freshly cut red roses—the King’s favorite flower.

Elara stopped when she saw Seraphina. Her eyes widened mockingly, and she dipped into a curtsy that was barely deep enough to be respectful.

"Your Majesty!" Elara chirped. "I didn't expect to see you out of bed so early. Most brides are... recovering... on their first morning."

The implication was clear: If the King had actually touched you, you’d be in bed.

Seraphina didn't blush. She didn't look down. She looked at the basket in Elara's hand.

"Lady Elara," Seraphina said, her voice smooth and devoid of warmth. "I see you have been busy."

Elara smirked, tossing her hair. "Oh, these? I was just cutting a bouquet for His Majesty’s study. He loves the scent of red roses while he works. I’ve done it for years. I assumed you wouldn't know his preferences yet."

In the past, Seraphina would have stammered an apology and let Elara walk away, feeling inadequate.

Today, Seraphina stepped forward.

"Lila," Seraphina said calmly. "What is the penalty for theft of Royal Property?"

Elara’s smile faltered. "Theft?"

"These gardens belong to the Crown," Seraphina stated, her violet eyes boring into Elara. "The flowers are cultivated for state functions and the Royal Altar. By cutting them without permission, you are stealing from the King."

"Stealing?" Elara laughed nervously. "Your Majesty, surely you jest. Kaelen—I mean, His Majesty—has never minded before."

"Because he has better things to do than police the shrubbery. But I do not."

Seraphina reached out and plucked a single red rose from Elara’s basket. She examined the thorns.

"Furthermore," Seraphina continued, her voice hardening, "you are wearing crimson silk."

Elara smoothed her dress proudly. "It is the latest fashion."

"It is a color restricted by the Sumptuary Laws of 1402," Seraphina recited. "Only members of the Royal Family may wear crimson within the palace walls. You are a Marquess’s daughter, Elara. Not a Princess. Not a Queen. And certainly not the King’s wife."

Elara’s face turned pale. "I... I have worn this color a dozen times! No one has ever—"

"Then the staff has been negligent. I will correct that." Seraphina turned to the guards standing at the perimeter of the garden. "Guards."

Two armored knights hurried over.

"Escort Lady Elara to the gates," Seraphina ordered, sounding as bored as if she were ordering lunch. "She is banned from the Palace grounds for one month for theft and violation of dress code. Confiscate the flowers. And tell her father to teach her the laws of the land before she returns."

"You... you can't do this!" Elara shrieked, dropping the basket. "The King will hear of this! He values my company!"

"If the King misses you," Seraphina said, turning her back on the screaming woman, "he can visit you at your father's estate. Though I doubt he has the time."

The guards hesitated only for a second before grabbing Elara’s arms. The "favorite" was dragged away, her crimson dress trailing in the dirt, shouting threats that faded into the distance.

Seraphina let out a sigh. "Finally. Some peace and quiet."

"Impressive."

The deep voice came from the balcony above.

Seraphina looked up. King Kaelen was leaning against the stone railing of the second-floor terrace. He had a cup of coffee in his hand, and he was looking down at her.

He had watched the whole thing.

Seraphina shielded her eyes from the sun. "Your Majesty. I apologize for the noise. I was taking out the trash."

Kaelen stared at her. Lady Elara had been a nuisance to him for years—clinging, loud, and protected by her father's influence. He had never bothered to remove her because the political fallout was annoying.

Seraphina had just evicted her in under three minutes, using the law as a weapon.

"You are ruthless, my Queen," Kaelen called down. There was no anger in his voice. There was amusement.

"I am efficient, my King," Seraphina corrected. She gestured to the roses. "Now, if you will excuse me, I have a garden to resurrect."

Kaelen watched her walk away, her spine straight as a steel rod. He took a sip of his coffee. It tasted better than usual.

For the first time, he realized that having a Queen might actually be useful.

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