QT: I hijacked a harem system and now I'm ruining every plot(GL)-Chapter 253: War

Chapter 253: War
Chapter 253
Lumiya
I slam the letter from my father on the table, the sound cracking like thunder through the chamber. The chair I’d been sitting in clatters violently as I throw it aside. My pulse pounds, my claws itching to shred something—preferably her smug little face.
Edith. Edith. Edith. Edith. Edith.
That’s all my father writes of in his damned letters.
Does he think I’m not trying? Does he think I’ve been sitting idle while that snake from the east slithers her way into the prince’s orbit?
When that brainless twin first brought up the "old hag," I barely paid it mind. A teaching assistant? A widow from some forgotten line in the east? She wasn’t a threat. Not to me.
I should have paid attention.
The position of queen is mine. Has always been mine. Everyone knows it. The Snowfrost line has the clearest claim, the deepest bloodline ties, the most loyal network of support. The other women in his orbit are pawns, background pieces. I cared nothing for them.
But now...
Now Edith’s father walks the halls of the capital whispering that his
daughter
is destined to be Queen.
His daughter. Not me.
I bare my fangs at the very thought, my tail lashing.
What gutter did she crawl from? Some forgotten branch in the east, a family barely tolerated at court. And yet she dares.
I’ve read her file. I know her story. A fiancé killed in a succession dispute—tragic, certainly, but hardly unique. And now she sets her sights higher, fastening her claws into the heir to the throne like it’s her right.
Is she not ashamed?
I inhale sharply, then exhale, slow and deliberate. Fury alone won’t win me this game. Rage is useful, but only if it’s sharpened into strategy.
I smooth my hair, fix the lines of my gown, and force my tail to still. My reflection in the polished mirror shows no trace of the tempest inside me—only poise, composure, the grace of a queen-to-be.
Still, I need to see him.
His highness.
*
My nails dig crescents into my palm, hidden in the folds of my gown. A relationship with him? Is that all it comes down to?
"You wound me, your highness," I manage, my voice low, smooth, practiced. "Have I not been loyal? Have I not stood at your side when others doubted you?"
"You stood at my side," Felix says quietly, "but did you ever look at me, Lumiya? Not as the crown prince. Not as an heir. Just... me."
For the first time, I falter.
Of course I looked at him. I studied his posture, his expression, his words—every detail that made him appear strong, regal, fitting for the role I would share. But that wasn’t what he meant.
I force a smile, brittle.
"You ask for sentiment, when duty demands strategy. You need a queen who strengthens your claim, not one who gazes at you like a... like a storybook romance."
He leans back, the gold in his eyes catching the firelight. "Then maybe that’s where we differ, Lumiya. Because I don’t want my queen to be someone who only strengthens me. I want someone who... cares for Felix. Not just the crown prince."
Heat floods my cheeks—anger, humiliation. He’s been listening to Edith, I’m sure of it. Her sweet, saccharine words dripping like honey into his ears. That eastern fox weaving her little nets while I, Lumiya Snowfrost, am told I lack affection.
I rise from the couch, smoothing my skirts with shaking hands. My pride demands composure, but my voice cuts sharper than intended.
"Careful, your highness. Honeyed words don’t build kingdoms. They burn them."
He doesn’t answer at once—just watches me, steady and unreadable, as if weighing me on some invisible scale.
Finally, he exhales. "You speak as if Edith does not support me."
My head snaps toward him, disbelief tightening my jaw.
"She has supported me more than anyone," he continues, golden eyes unflinching. "You, Lumiya—you’ve not taken the time to help me adjust to high society, nor helped me build connections."
I scoff, a sharp and humorless sound. "Your highness, you are the prince. What need have you for connections? Nobles bow whether they wish to or not. The throne alone commands loyalty."
He pinches the bridge of his nose, a gesture I’ve seen him use when professors scold him for carelessness.
"Perhaps before. But now that I’ve seen what is expected—now that I’ve walked into those halls—there
is
need, Lumiya. I refuse to walk into the palace as an ignorant prince. This academy is the only chance I have to learn, to build ties that will matter."
He leans forward, elbows braced on his knees, voice cutting low and sharp. "You speak of giving me strength, but the only strength you offer is your bloodline. Your name. Nothing of you."
The words strike like claws down my pride. I stiffen.
"My bloodline is centuries of loyalty, of rule, of power that has endured long before Edith Veyron’s family crawled out of the east. That is what
I
bring you."
His gaze hardens. "And yet she brings me something more vital. She steadies me when I falter. She sees Felix—not just the crown."
The name burns. My lips part, but no words come.
He straightens, voice final, heavy as judgment. "Go home, Lumiya. Reflect. When you return, decide if you wish to stand at my side as
my
queen—or not at all."
The silence that follows is suffocating. I force my chin high, spine straight, every inch the perfect noblewoman even as fury roils beneath my skin.
I turn, skirts whispering against the marble floor, and leave with measured steps. The door closes behind me.
Only then does my composure break. Not in tears. Not in sorrow.
But in rage.
***
Edith
I brush my hair, each stroke deliberate, smooth, and steady. The woman staring back at me in the mirror is beautiful, sharp, and clever — and she knows it.
A pounding knock rattles the door. I exhale slowly, setting the brush aside, and tie the sash of my robe. Whoever it is has already lost points for such lack of grace.
When I open the door, I’m met with a storm of a little Lady Snowfrost, all ice and fury, though her control is cracking.
"Lady Snowfrost," I say, leaning lightly against the frame, my voice smooth as silk. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
Her glare could cut stone, though I only see a child in temper. Isn’t she supposed to be the academy’s
Ice
Queen
? Right now, she looks more like a kitten with wet fur.
"This is not a conversation to have in the hall," she hisses, forcing her voice low but unable to hide the tremor in it.
"Hm." I step back, slow and inviting, sweeping my arm toward the room. "By all means."
She marches past me as though she owns the place, skirts swishing in sharp arcs. I shut the door gently behind her, watching the stiffness in her shoulders, the way her jaw clenches.
How... amusing.
I shut the door with a soft click and glide back to my dresser, settling into my seat as though nothing at all is amiss. The brush slides through my hair, smooth and slow, my reflection calm.
"So," I murmur, watching her in the mirror, "what is this conversation that must be had behind closed doors?"
"You know why," she snaps.
I arch a brow. "Do I? Please, enlighten me. I would hate to assume and be wrong."
"You—" she falters, grinding her teeth, before spitting it out. "You’ve wormed your way into his highness’ favor. Into
my
position."
Ah. Predictable.
"Position?" My lips curve, a soft, cutting smile. "I know not what you speak of. Are we not both ladies of the prince’s heart? His highness’ affections are large enough for us both—and more."
She bristles, nearly shaking with the effort not to explode.
"Word has it," she manages tightly, "your father is already spreading it around. That
you
will be crown princess."
"Ah," I say, dragging the brush languidly through my hair, "you know how fathers are. Especially noble ones. Greedy men—always dreaming their daughters onto thrones. You and I only stand out because our chances are higher than most." I pause, tilt my head, let the smile sharpen.
"Why, I heard Duke Snowfrost does the same with
his
daughter."
Her eyes flash. "Because it is my position. I care not what you do with his highness—" her gaze drops deliberately to the hickeys and bites marring the skin revealed by my loosened robe, the little lion is a biter— "but you should not forget your place."
"Lady Snowfrost," I purr, setting the brush aside, "you seem to be mistaken about something." I rise, turning to face her fully.
"His highness, the crown prince, has no crown princess yet."
She scoffs, sharp and brittle.
"He
promised
me
."
I laugh softly, low and cruel. "How fickle a man’s heart is, don’t you think? Because he said the very same thing to me." A lie, of course, but she doesn’t know that and the flicker in her eyes tells me it landed.
"So what to do?" I muse, stepping closer, each word slow and deliberate. "There can only be one..."
"You—you—how dare you be so greedy!" she spits.
"My little lady," I say sweetly, "I have been greedy all my life. My late fiancé—dead as he is—was heir to Nyxclaw. Until the current duchess relieved him of his... breathing rights." I sigh as though at a fond memory.
"If I cannot be duchess of Nyxclaw, then there is only one position equal in power. The throne."
Her face pales, then darkens, caught between fury and fear.
"But worry not." I lean close enough that she can feel my breath against her cheek. "I won’t mistreat you. There will always be a place for you, Lady Snowfrost—in the harem. Or perhaps as a concubine."
"You—!" Her voice cracks, trembling with rage.
"What?" I chuckle, low and merciless. "You didn’t think I would
admit
it out loud?"
I step right into her space, my golden hair brushing her sleeve, my eyes locked on hers.
"Send your father a letter," I whisper.
"Tell him this is war. The Veyrons are after the position too. The Duke should not underestimate us as you did. Because while you hesitated..." My smile widens, a flash of teeth. "...I swooped in and took your place."
I let the silence ring, heavy and final, before adding, soft as silk:
"Don’t let your father make the same mistake."