The palace halls were quiet, but not peacefully so. Whispers clung to the walls like ivy—rumors born from the fire, fueled by last night's spectacle.
The sun had barely stretched over the misty hills of Elareth when a summons was sent from Queen Isadora. Not an open court call, but a closed family meeting—held in the crimson chamber behind the throne hall, where secrets were usually whispered and punishments arranged.
Inside, Queen Isadora sat at the head, clad in deep violet, her gold rings clinking against her goblet. Evelyn lounged in her usual defiant pose beside her, eyes still dark from the rage of yesterday. Magnus leaned against a pillar, arms folded. Iridessa sat quietly, hands on her lap, her presence requested but not welcomed.
And then the doors opened.
Aurora entered, draped in a high-necked dark green gown stitched with silver embroidery. Her maids—Lira and Faye—waited outside as she stepped in alone, posture steady, gaze unreadable.
Isadora's voice was the first to cut the silence.
"You made quite the entrance yesterday."
Aurora only inclined her head.
"You seem... well-fed," Evelyn muttered.
"And well-dressed," Isadora added, swirling her goblet. "It is surprising, considering we assumed life in Velmora would break you."
Aurora smiled faintly. "I am sorry to disappoint."
Isadora's eyes narrowed. "You were invited here to mourn. Not parade around like a queen."
"I am a queen," Aurora replied, calm and unwavering. "You wrote to Queen Aurora of Velmora. Did you forget?"
The chamber stilled. Iridessa chuckled faintly, pleased with Aurora's response.
Evelyn scoffed and stood. "Let us not pretend you did not crawl here hoping for scraps. We all know why you came."
Aurora turned to her, still composed. "Scraps?" she echoed, smiling. "I came because a king has died. Whether he claimed me or not, his blood runs through mine."
Evelyn blinked. Isadora's mouth tightened.
Magnus shifted. Iridessa watched silently, a flicker of admiration in her gaze.
"We welcomed you in good faith," Isadora said. "And you repay it with showmanship?"
Aurora looked her dead in the eyes.
"Good faith, you say? You sent that letter not out of grief, but to see me crawl. That did not happen. And I see now that this is what truly troubles you."
Isadora stood now. "You will not speak to me with such insolence in this palace!"
Aurora smiled, graceful and unshaken.
"This palace taught me silence. It fed me scraps and gave me scars. And yet, here I stand. So if speaking the truth is insolence, I do not mind being called insolent."
For a moment, no one spoke.
Evelyn looked to her mother, then to Magnus. Magnus said nothing.
Iridessa, with quiet steel, finally spoke.
"Aurora came with dignity. She mourned with grace. Whatever else you expected… is that not your burden to bear?"
Isadora's jaw clenched. Magnus raised an eyebrow.
Isadora stepped forward. "You think yourself of consequence now, do you? Kings murmuring your name. Lords bending over themselves to gain your favor. I imagine you must feel very… triumphant."
Aurora tilted her head slightly. "No more than a daughter paying respect to her father."
Magnus finally spoke, scoffing under his breath. "Daughter. That word is generous."
Aurora's eyes flicked to him, untroubled. "I but used the word they wrote in the letter."
Evelyn bristled. "You imagine this display of yours has not brought us shame?"
"Shame you?" Aurora repeated, her voice low, almost curious. "Is that what this is about?"
"You arrive with guards, gifts, a crown that nearly glimmers upon your head," Evelyn snapped. "And now lords speak of alliances through you."
Aurora blinked slowly. "Is that what alarms you, Evelyn? That one might seek peace through one they once sought to bury?"
The air grew taut. Iridessa shifted slightly, a faint amusement in her eyes.
Isadora's voice hardened. "You forget yourself."
"No," Aurora replied evenly. "I at last remember myself."
Magnus leaned forward. "You are a guest in this kingdom, not its jewel."
Aurora chuckled, her voice quiet but clear. "Then perchance you should have treated me as such before casting me to the wolves."
Evelyn's eyes blazed. "You were nothing! A mere slave. You were meant to vanish!"
Aurora did not flinch. "And yet, I did not."
For a moment, Evelyn looked as though she might strike her.
Then Iridessa rose gently and spoke softly.
"Perhaps it is time we speak less of what she was, and more of what she has become."
"Will you hold your tongue, Iridessa?" Magnus thundered.
Aurora raised an eyebrow, concern in her gaze for Iridessa. She met her eyes; Iridessa nodded in return. Then Aurora turned to Isadora.
"I did not come to parade. I came to mourn. But if it is attention that troubles you… then I suggest you earn it yourself."
She looked around the chamber one last time, her voice soft but firm.
"If you will excuse me, I have things to attend to. Velmora expects her queen back soon."
She bowed, not low—but just enough to insult those who noticed. Then she turned and walked out, leaving behind silence, shame, and a tension thick enough to cut.
-
Evelyn's heels clicked furiously against the stone as she stormed through the corridor, fists clenched at her sides. The doors to her chamber swung open with a bang as she flung them wide.
"Shut it," she hissed.
A servant lingered near the door.
"I SAID SHUT IT NOW!" she shrieked.
The girl jumped and pulled the heavy doors shut behind her, leaving Evelyn alone in the vast velvet-draped chamber.
The moment silence settled, Evelyn let out a cry—half-growl, half-sob—and struck the table with both fists. The polished wood rang beneath her fury. She paced in circles, eyes wild, yanking hairpins out one by one until her curls fell loose and messy around her face.
"She talked back," she whispered, chest heaving. "She stood in front of all of us and talked back as if she were born to that chamber… as if she belonged there more than I ever have."
She kicked the side of a footstool, sending it toppling over.
"It should have been me. I should have been the one married to Velmora." She collapsed into a chair, sobbing. "I should have been the one bringing alliances, praise, and royal attention. Not Aurora."
She stood and began pacing again.
"The chariot she arrived in, the guards, the offerings—it all looked regal. She even has attendants now… handmaidens of her own." Her voice broke. "That slave girl has maids."
She began sobbing again, her heart burned with jealousy, regret, and anger.
-
Lord Desric of the East Wall walked beside Lord Harthorne of the Grain Council, their cloaks trailing behind them, boots echoing on the stone corridor as they made their way toward the stables.
They had somehow overheard the banter of the royal family earlier and had slipped away quietly. But once beyond the palace gates, Desric finally exhaled.
"The slave girl has grown bold."
Harthorne gave a quiet grunt of agreement. "Any backed by Velmora would grow a spine. Did you see the seal on her carriage? The gold upon her guards?"
Desric glanced over. "And to think—we all assumed she would perish in the mountains."
"She did more than survive," Harthorne muttered. "She thrived. And she returned with eyes that flinch at nothing."
A beat of silence followed, then Desric lowered his voice. "I wager she was the hand that spurred Velmora to act so swiftly on princess Iridessa's letters. No foreign realm moves thus unless urged."
Harthorne nodded grimly. "The timing was far too precise."
Desric smirked faintly. "Well. It is high time someone dared oppose Isadora. The kingdom has choked under her hand for too long."
Harthorne did not smile. His tone grew heavier. "Perhaps. Yet I pity princess Iridessa. With King Rael gone, she will have no shield."
Desric sighed. "She is silent. Too silent to survive what is to come."
They reached their horses, pausing before mounting. A cold breeze tugged at Desric's cloak as he cast a glance back at the towering silhouette of the palace.
"A storm brews in that house."
Harthorne adjusted his gloves. "Let us hope it does not sweep the whole kingdom with it."
Without another word, the two men climbed into their saddles and rode off, the dust rising quietly behind them.
-
The skies above Elareth were pale and mournful, still veiled by the smoke of farewell. The palace grounds were quieter than usual, the stone courtyard damp with the morning's mist, and the great bronze gates already creaking open for the royal Velmoran escort.
Aurora stood in the antechamber, cloaked in soft silver and white—her travel gown catching the morning light, her hair braided with pearl pins gifted by one of Aldric's lords.
She turned to Miri, arms wide.
Without hesitation, Miri rushed into her embrace, holding tight, like she had all those moons ago in the slave quarters when they'd whispered dreams neither believed could come true.
"I shall miss you," Miri said, her voice thick with feeling.
Aurora smiled faintly. "And I, thee."
Then she turned to Iridessa, who stood a little back, composed but faintly pale from the days prior.
Aurora took her hands, held them firmly.
"You must stay strong," she said, voice gentle but unwavering. "I do not know what is coming—but I know you are not alone. Not while I live."
Iridessa blinked, and smiled.
"If you ever need help," Aurora continued, "if things turn dark—write to me. Seal it with crimson thread. Velmora will know it came from you."
Iridessa nodded slowly, tears in her eyes. "Thank you, Aurora."
"No. Thank you," Aurora whispered.
She gave one last look at them both—Miri standing with eyes full of warmth, Iridessa composed yet visibly moved—before stepping away.
Upstairs, Aurora's footsteps echoed in the quiet corridor as she stopped before a heavy door carved with lion reliefs.
Queen Isadora's chambers.
She did not knock. She merely stood at the threshold, the door slightly ajar, light from the window slanting in sharply.
" I am leaving," Aurora said. Her voice was calm, clear.
Inside, Queen Isadora sat on a high-backed chair, draped in her mourning black. She did not look up.
Aurora bowed—just enough. Then turned and left without waiting for permission.
Isadora did not rise. She simply held her teacup tighter, the porcelain creaking faintly under her grip. Her knuckles pale. Her eyes dark.
Outside, the Velmoran soldiers stood in formation, steel gleaming, flags high. Her gilded carriage—an emblem of a kingdom not their own—stood ready.
Aurora stepped in, glancing back one last time.
Miri and Iridessa stood side by side beneath the archway, hands clasped in front of them.
Aurora raised her hand, waved once. They waved back.
Then the door shut.
The horses jerked forward.
As the carriage began to move, wind brushing the banners, another pair of eyes watched from above.
Behind a veiled window on the upper floor, Evelyn stood motionless.
She watched the carriage glide from the palace grounds like a dream slipping out of her grasp.
Her jaw clenched. Her throat burned.
And her nails dug into her palm as she whispered, "She was never supposed to shine."
But shine she did.