The Queen Who Fights Back (by Lily Hastings) novel Chapter 196

**A Symphony of Shadows by Evelyn Hart**

**Chapter 196**

Maxwell’s brow knitted together in a deep frown as he absorbed Zane’s words, the weight of the conversation pressing heavily upon him.

“Even if you somehow manage to track down Bloodforge, the King of Mercenaries, it won’t change a thing for Novie,” he replied, his voice tinged with a mix of frustration and concern. “You can try to reason with her, but trust me, she’ll just shoot you dead without a second thought.”

Back in their school days, Maxwell and Zane had been the kings of the campus—handsome, athletic, the kind of guys who turned heads and made hearts flutter. Girls would giggle and swoon, their laughter echoing in the hallways, but the moment they stepped into the gritty underbelly of the world they now inhabited, everything changed.

It was as if they were suddenly placed under a microscope, every flaw magnified, every weakness exposed.

“I can’t believe I actually let that slip my mind…” Zane muttered, running a hand through his tousled hair, a look of disbelief washing over his face.

He released a heavy sigh, a self-deprecating smile creeping onto his lips. “Guess they were right after all. When a guy falls head over heels, his brain really does take a nosedive…”

The irony was that he was the only one convinced that he was truly in love. That woman he was pining over was so frigid, so unyielding, she wouldn’t even spare him a glance.

Maxwell knew precisely whom Zane was referring to, and while he remained silent, a dark cloud descended over his expression. The mere thought of Novie and Zane together felt like a personal affront to his little sister, igniting a spark of protectiveness within him.

He let out a derisive scoff, unable to mask his disdain.

Tiana, who had been leaning in closer to Zane, was clearly smitten. The moment she realized he was talking about Nova Blake, a wave of jealousy surged through her, an emotion she desperately tried to conceal.

With a low, frustrated huff, she turned her gaze away, feigning disinterest.

High above, nestled among the treetops, Yellowcat lounged lazily, a striking red spider lily-shaped earring dangling from her left ear. With a casual flick of her fingers, she pressed it gently, a knowing smile playing on her lips.

That seemingly innocuous earring was, in fact, a tracking device. As long as she wore it, Nova could pinpoint her exact location at any moment.

Yellowcat stretched lazily, her ears perked as she tuned into the chatter of the students below. To her, it was akin to listening to a group of clueless fools exchanging nonsensical jokes—utterly ridiculous, she mused to herself.

Inside the main control room of the training base, the atmosphere was tense.

A massive display dominated the front wall, showcasing forty or fifty smaller screens, each one meticulously tracking the movements of individuals scattered throughout the forest.

Two figures occupied the control room.

At the forefront sat a man in his late thirties, his golden beard glimmering under the fluorescent lights, his head slightly oversized for his frame. This was Lionel, the head instructor of the training ground—the voice that echoed through the radios, always shrouded in authority.

His sharp, predatory gaze was fixated on two of the smaller screens, where a young girl was leading a rookie mercenary team, one that lacked real prowess, as they fought their way through a heavily armed blockade.

“What a shame, what a shame,” Lionel murmured, shaking his head with a look of mock pity, as if he genuinely felt sorry for someone’s misfortune.

“Even Bloodforge, the greatest mercenary king to ever walk the earth, has finally discovered his Achilles’ heel.”

“How tragic. It seems Bloodforge’s illustrious career is on the verge of collapse.”

To an outsider, it might seem as though Lionel was genuinely lamenting the downfall of a formidable figure, but anyone who knew him well understood the disdain that underpinned his words.

“Women always get worked up over the smallest things,” he scoffed, his tone dripping with condescension. “Trying to juggle a family while being the Mercenary King? Please! The world doesn’t deal in fairy tales.”

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