I Got Married to a Yandere Queen-Chapter 47 - 46 - Fragment of a Broken Truth

Riven glanced at Ashtoria, who remained silent, her face cold and expressionless. Yet beneath that calm facade, he knew—she was listening.

His thoughts began to spiral, drawn into a whirlwind of questions.

So... the figure he had seen from afar on that chaotic battlefield—the indistinct silhouette cloaked in smoke and flame, walking alone amidst the charred and broken remains of the Arkham forces—the one who had plunged an entire army into despair... was that truly the Queen of Belmore?

The mad queen everyone talked about?

And the woman now sitting in front of him—the beautiful woman he had first found unconscious and severely wounded, the one pursued by Arkham infiltrators who had called her the reincarnation of destruction...

If what those men had said was true—that everyone inside the fortress was dead—then this woman must have been the sole survivor. She had claimed to be a noble from within the fortress...

Suddenly, Riven shook his head slightly, barely aware he was doing it. A faint, bitter laugh echoed inside him.

No way.

There was no way this woman... was a queen.

The very idea was absurd. freёnovelkiss-com

He was just a poor man who scavenged weapons from the battlefield. She—despite her mystery and strength—couldn’t possibly be royalty. A disguise, maybe. But a queen? A deranged ruler?

Riven exhaled, trying to calm his restless mind. But memory after memory started creeping back in, like puzzle pieces slowly falling into place.

The things she had said before... how she claimed to be terrifying.

That people were afraid of her.

And how she had destroyed those beasts with no effort at all when saving him. How the entire pack of monsters had backed off, too afraid to come near them.

Riven studied her face again. It was beautiful, yet cold. Her eyes sharp, but burdened, as if carrying the weight of a thousand dead souls within her.

Once more, he told himself—no, it can’t be.

And yet, again, that voice inside him whispered...

But... what if it’s true?

Riven had heard the terrifying rumors about Queen Belmore, tales that seemed to follow him no matter where he went. In every town, every village, even among the tents of travelers and merchants, the stories were the same.

He never paid them much attention. Politics meant nothing to him. The Mad Queen of Belmore wasn’t part of his life. He had no reason to care. But still, the gossip was too loud to ignore.

According to what people said, Queen Belmore was a cruel woman with hair red as blood, a face marred by scars, and a heart colder than steel. They said she was in her forties, a ruthless tyrant who slaughtered friend and foe alike. Rarely did she appear in public, and when she did, it was only to wage war. Even then, she always wore a terrifying golden helm that hid her face completely.

Riven turned his eyes back to the woman in front of him.

He studied her more carefully this time. Her face was smooth, unblemished. Beautiful, and untouched by age or scars. Her skin was pale but soft. She looked... twenty-five? Maybe twenty-seven at most. Mature, yes—but not with the oppressive coldness people described.

And despite the quiet, crushing pressure that seemed to surround her... there was an odd innocence about her.

An innocence that...

Riven had to stop himself from slapping his own cheek.

He took a deep breath, letting the swirl of doubts settle for now.

No... she’s not a queen. She couldn’t be.

The thought faded, though not completely.

He glanced around the table. Mira was still cheerfully chewing on her meat, completely oblivious to the mood. Then there was Ashtoria, silent as ever, eyes unfocused as if lost in her own sea of thoughts. Somehow, the air at their table had grown heavy, as if a silent frost had settled between them.

Riven didn’t know what Ashtoria was thinking. And frankly, he didn’t want to pry into her identity. But if they were to sit at the same table and part ways soon, the least he could do was break the tension.

He sighed softly, then spoke—his voice steady, but carrying something buried deep. A quiet confusion that had lingered far too long.

"When I fought that bear the other day... I thought I finally found something."

Ashtoria turned slightly, listening without interruption.

"I felt like I could cut through anything with my sword," he said, almost chuckling at the thought. "Right before that, I fought a white tiger. And during that moment, I could split it clean in one stroke. My body, my sword, it all felt aligned. Like I had found... my affinity. For a moment, I thought I understood something fundamental."

He paused, fingers tightening slightly over his knee before slowly relaxing again.

"But then, when I tried to do the same against the bear... it didn’t work. Same technique. No mistakes. But something was missing. That feeling... it just wasn’t there. I felt lost."

The words hung in the air. Even Mira paused her chewing.

Ashtoria said nothing at first, but her eyes turned distant, processing his words. Finally, she spoke in a low, cool voice.

"So... what do you think your affinity is?"

Riven gave a vague shrug. His gaze unfocused.

"I don’t know."

He took a deep breath. "I thought it had to do with cutting. Understanding how to divide, to sever... something along those lines. But now, I’m not sure anymore. It’s like trying to relive a dream, you remember the steps, but you can’t recreate the feeling."

He laughed softly, without mirth. "Maybe I was just lucky that time."

The smile on his face faded quickly when he heard the faint, unsettling crunch of metal.

He looked over.

Ashtoria held her spoon in one hand, but it was no longer a spoon. She had crushed it into a twisted ball of deformed metal, the remnants curling around her fingers like melted wax.

Riven swallowed hard. His eyes flicked from the metal to her face.

Still calm. But from her eyes, from her voice... something inside had shifted.

Then she spoke.

Her voice was cold. Resolute. And—somehow—terrifying.

"My affinity is destruction."

Riven froze.

"In other words," she continued without pause, "I am destruction itself. And that’s not some metaphor."

The words filled the space between them like a slow-rolling fog.

"I believe in that fact and I accept it," she said. "If I want something to break, it will break. If I wanted everyone in this tavern to be destroyed..." Her gaze swept across the room. "...then I believe they would be destroyed."

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