Princess Milabuella POV
At the palace.
The scent hit me the moment the bottle was uncorked.
Sweet, floral, clean—like crushed petals bathed in sunlight and magic. I blinked at the shimmering liquid inside the glass, my breath caught somewhere between awe and offense.
This was the infamous shampoo and soap set every noblewoman in the capital was tearing each other's hair out for. The one rumored to make even the dull-haired palace maids shine like enchanted dryads.
And it came from the far west.
From a territory we had all but forgotten.
From a girl no one in the capital ever bothered to know.
Lady Seraphine. Huge, chubby and unlady-like.
I gripped the bottle tighter, jaw tense.
How? How could some remote provincial lady create something so exquisite, so transformative, so—so royal?
Even I, Princess Milabuella Nothingwood Vael, daughter of His Majesty King Vael, never had hair products this refined. I'd barely tried a drop and my fingers tingled with magic the Mage Tower still couldn't explain.
Father sat beside me on the elevated dais, silent but visibly curious. His brows furrowed, eyes fixed on the collection of bottles on the council table as though they were priceless artifacts.
Mother was currently at the Royal Court, dealing with legal petitions, so it fell on me to represent the royal line at this meeting.
Lucky me.
Duke Tyler Agro—Duke Alistair's twin older brother and uncle to this mysterious Lady Seraphine—stood before us, arms crossed stiffly. He was usually composed, unshakable, the kind of man who didn't blink even when his troops reported a dragon sighting.
Today?
His left eyebrow wouldn't stop twitching.
The council chamber buzzed with hushed whispers.
Ministers exchanged curious glances.
Even the High Treasurer looked bothered, flipping through trade scrolls as though searching for a clue.
Finally, Father broke the silence.
"Duke Tyler," he said with a stern but controlled tone, "this western territory—your brother's land—it has flourished beyond what my reports predicted. Roads, inns, trade, agriculture… and now? This." He gestured to the shampoo bottle I still held. "Explain. What do you know of Lady Seraphine's sudden… innovations?"
Tyler's jaw clenched visibly.
"With all due respect, Your Majesty," he began, voice tight, "my niece has refused to answer any communication. None of us—myself included—have been able to reach her since her… projects began."
Gasps rippled across the chamber.
"She ignored your letters?" the High Minister asked, scandalized.
"She ignored mine," Tyler snapped. "And the court's envoys. Even the communication scrolls received no reply. It's as if she's—"
"Untouchable," one noblewoman murmured, eyes narrowing.
A spike of envy stabbed through my chest, sharp enough to steal my breath.
A mere lady from a forgotten territory, refusing the capital? Outpacing royal craftsmen? And creating potions superior to what the Mage Tower could replicate?
I forced my posture straight. A princess does not show jealousy.
But I felt it burning in my veins.
Father stroked his beard, deep in thought. "These products are exceptional. Even magical. My own advisors tell me none of our alchemists can determine the source ingredients." His gaze slid to the council. "This poses questions."
"And potential threats," the High Mage muttered.
"And opportunities," the Treasurer chimed in greedily.
Tyler's face hardened. "With all due respect, Your Majesty… allowing an unsupervised noblewoman to amass wealth, influence, and innovation at this scale is—dangerous."
I swallowed. Dangerous? Or brilliant?
A young lady creating a revolution without stepping foot in the capital? Without bowing to anyone?
It was… infuriatingly impressive.
Father turned to me suddenly. "Milabuella. What do you think?"
I straightened, placing the shampoo bottle carefully on the table.
"Father… if even our royal alchemists cannot replicate these formulas, and if Lady Seraphine refuses all contact…" I paused, choosing my words as the room hung on every syllable. "Then she is either hiding something—"
A murmur swept the council. "—or protecting something."
Tyler scoffed. "What could she possibly have that the entire kingdom doesn't?"
"Knowledge, apparently," I said coldly.
His glare sharpened, insulted by even the suggestion.
Father tapped the armrest of his chair. "Duke Tyler… what do you propose?"
Tyler inhaled deeply, shoulders stiff.
"Summon her, Your Majesty. Bring Lady Seraphine to the capital. She must answer the crown directly. Whether her products are magical, alchemical, or—Maker forbid—forbidden, we must know."
The chamber fell into tense silence.
My fingers curled under the table. A cold thrill raced down my spine.
Summon her.
Bring her here.
To face the king. To face me.
To see the girl whose creations had outshined the palace, shaken the Mage Tower, and stirred the entire noble society into chaos.
I wasn't sure if I wanted to greet her…
or crush her.
Father leaned back, deep in contemplation, his voice low, grave, and final.
"Prepare the summons."
And in that moment, every council member knew—
The kingdom's eyes were now fixed on Lady Seraphine.
And so was mine.