The Gate He Closed Became My Crown Chapter 05

Then Clara stepped forward, her smile stretched too tight. 

“Your seat?” 

She looked from me to the queen’s throne, then back to the crowd, inviting them to share her disbelief. 

“Sienna, there are lies, and then there is treason. You should know the difference.” 

I raised my left hand. 

The ruby ring caught the light above the dais, and the Frost Dragon crest along the band flashed silver-blue. 

“Look carefully.” 

An old dragon lord standing beside the second table narrowed his eyes. His expression changed first, suspicion draining into shock. 

“That crest,” he said quietly. “It is not a court copy.” 

Another lord leaned closer, then drew back as if the ring itself had burned him. 

“That is His Majesty’s private mark.” 

Unease spread faster than the earlier laughter. 

Clara’s face went pale for one breath before rage covered it. 

“No,” she snapped. “Do not be stupid. She stole it.” 

The accusation gave the room something easier to believe. 

“She must have stolen the Dragon Queen’s ring,” Clara said, louder now. “That is why she came here. She wanted to use it in front of everyone before Her Majesty arrived.” 

Marcus’s grip returned to my wrist. 

“Sienna,” he said under his breath, “tell me where you got this.” 

“I already told you.” 

His jaw tightened. 

“Do not make this worse.” 

Clara lunged for my hand. 

I moved back, but someone behind me shifted at the same time. A foot caught my ankle, deliberate enough to send me hard against the marble. 

Pain struck through my knees and wrist. I curled around my stomach before anything else, one hand braced under me, breath trapped in my chest until the child moved faintly beneath my palm. 

Only then did I breathe again. 

Clara did not care that I was pregnant. She stepped onto my hand and bent over me, her fingers closing around the ring. 

“Thief,” she hissed. “Give it back.” 

“Get off me.” 

She pressed harder. 

The pain shot up my arm, but I kept my fingers clenched. The ring had been placed on my hand by my mate, before the frost garden, beneath the blessing of the Dragon Goddess. It was not something Clara Linwood had the right to touch. 

Her nails lengthened into dark dragon claws. 

Several people gasped, but no one stopped her. 

She twisted the band. 

A sharp crack cut through the hall. 

The ruby tore loose from its setting and struck the marble, splintering into red fragments that scattered across the white stone. 

Clara held up the broken band. 

“See? A fake. A true royal relic would never break in the hands of a pure-blooded dragon.” 

The old lord who had recognized the crest said nothing. His face had gone gray. 

I pushed myself upright, my injured hand pressed against my stomach. 

“You broke what the Dragon King placed on my finger.” 

Clara’s answer was a slap. 

My head turned with the force of it. The taste of blood returned, familiar now, but the hall had become too quiet for her to enjoy it. 

“You are still pretending?” she shouted. “You steal a ring, insult Her Majesty, and dare speak His Majesty’s name as though he belongs to you?” 

The guards at the side of the hall finally moved. 

“Throw her out,” Clara ordered. “Before the Dragon King arrives and sees this filth near his throne.” 

They hesitated. 

Marcus looked down at me, torn between fear of the court and the old certainty that I was still his to manage. 

At last he crouched in front of me, lowering his voice into that same false mercy. 

“Sienna, listen to me. You have gone too far, but I can still help you. Admit you stole the ring. Say grief made you mad. Beg forgiveness, and I will take you away before His Majesty comes.” 

Clara shot him a furious look. 

“Marcus.” 

He ignored her. 

“I can protect you,” he said. “You and the child. But you must stop this now.” 

I looked from the broken ruby scattered across the floor to Marcus. 

“You cannot protect me from the man who gave me the ring.” 

The great doors opened before Marcus could answer. 

A voice came from the doorway, low and clear enough to silence the room. 

“Who dared touch my wife?”