Morning had arrived, sunlight spilled through tall arched windows, washing over carved stone and silk-draped walls, settling into the palace like it had always belonged there. Gold traced the patterns on the floor. Everything gleamed, orderly, beautiful, indifferent.
The Queen stood by the window. She watched the palace wake. Maids crossed the courtyard below in neat clusters, baskets balanced on their hips, mouths moving faster than their feet. Laughter here. A whisper there. Gossip passed hand to hand like currency. Nothing in the palace stayed quiet for long.
"My Queen."
A servant entered, head bowed low, eyes fixed on the floor. "The woman you requested to see has arrived."
Daphne didn't turn immediately. Her gaze lingered on the gardens, dew clinging to petals, butterflies already hovering, how ironic it was.
"You may go."
The servant withdrew soundlessly.
Only then did Daphne move. She stepped away from the window and allowed another maid to fasten the jewels at her throat, silk sliding smoothly over her shoulders. The palace looked beautiful in the morning. It always did. Beauty was its greatest disguise.
Elsewhere, Madam Rubin walked through the same gardens, slower now, her eyes taking everything in.
The flowers were in full bloom. Lilies, roses, colors layered so carefully it almost hurt to look at them. The air was crisp, sweet. For a moment, memory overtook her.
"Rubin, don't be careless," her husband's voice echoed in her mind, sharp with warning. "This is not your house."
"But look at it," she had laughed then, a smile that was so addictive "It's beautiful. When I go home, I'll plant flowers everywhere. Lilies, roses, hyacinth, an entire garden."
She had turned to a girl beside her, excitement bright in her eyes. "I'll make a place like this one day."
The memory faded as quickly as it came.
"Madam Rubin," Daphne greeted, already seated at the table when Rubin was ushered in. "It's been a long time. You're still beautiful."
Rubin inclined her head slightly. "So are you, Your Majesty."
Daphne poured herself tea, unhurried. Servants placed warm bread, fruit, and polished silverware on the table before retreating.
"Join me for breakfast," Daphne said lightly.
Rubin exhaled through her nose. "I can hardly refuse a queen's invitation."
They ate in silence for a moment.
Then Daphne stopped. Her fingers tightened around the teacup.
she said softly. "Eveline."
Rubin looked up.
"She looks like her," Daphne continued, almost to herself. "It's rather unsettling."
"At least she isn't stupid," Rubin replied calmly. "I made sure of that."
Daphne's lips curved faintly. "Yes. I suppose I should thank you."
She tilted her head. "After all… she's a whore because of me. Her father's spirit would forever haunt me..... and you," she smiled
Rubin stood abruptly, chair scraping against the floor. Her hands trembled only once before she steadied them.
"Don't," Daphne said mildly. "No need to punish yourself. You taught her well. Better than most mothers ever could."
Rubin didn't turn around. She lifted her hand in a small gesture toward the servants waiting nearby.
"Show me Eveline's room."
Eveline sat by the window, staring at the pale morning light falling through the curtains. Memories of the ball flashing one after the other, the queen herself had appointed her as her lady-in-waiting, and the shock it had caused among the nobles. She ran a hand over her face, thinking, Why me? Why now?
A soft knock at the door made her glance up.
"Enter," she said, voice steady.
Madam Rubin stepped in, calm and precise, eyes sharp.
"I've heard rumors," she said quietly, "that the queen appointed you as her lady-in-waiting.
Eveline raised an eyebrow, a sharp smile tugging at her lips.
"For a moment," she said dryly, "I thought you came because you cared for me. Such a display of motherly affection."
"Hush," Madam Rubin replied, stepping closer. "Appearances are for outsiders. We are bound by motives and revenge, never love. You know that."
Eveline's smirk deepened.
"Of course. But let's not pretend this is about helping me. This is your plan, isn't it? You want revenge, and I'm a convenient pawn."
Madam Rubin's eyes flickered, briefly, dangerously. She reached out and brushed a loose strand of hair from Eveline's face.
"And yet," she said softly, "you want to be used. We are alike. Both wronged. Both patient. We want the same thing."
Eveline leaned back, voice edged with mockery.
"How convenient. You lost your husband because of the royals, and now I'm meant to play along? Am I your beloved daughter now, or just a weapon?"
"Beloved daughter?" Madam Rubin murmured, almost amused. "No. That is a luxury we cannot afford. You and I are united only by purpose."
Eveline let out a quiet laugh.
Madam Rubin's gaze remained steady, unblinking.
"Purpose, not sentiment. Do not mistake trust for love. Remember this, a clever pawn is far more dangerous than a careless king."
Eveline's lips curved into a slow, knowing grin.
"Then I suppose I'll practice my moves."
Madam Rubin straightened and glided toward the door.
"Enjoy your morning."