By the time Elissa and Martha left the garden, the light had shifted—late afternoon, the sky bruised with the hint of evening.
"I think we should head back, Princess," Martha said, not unkindly. "You've had enough excitement for one day."
Elissa nodded, feeling the chill of the stone floors through her shoes as they stepped back into the castle's warm corridors.
On the other side of the castle,The grand parlour hummed with low conversation and the clink of cups.
Freshly arrived guests sank into chairs and couches—cloaks removed, travel dust washed away. Servants moved quietly with trays of steaming blood tea and light refreshments, offering delicate pastries, fruits, and small savory bites to settle empty stomachs.
The men had already split into loose clusters, voices dipping into politics—border patrols, trade routes, old grudges half-disguised as jokes. The women's talk flowed instead toward the ball: gowns, rumored decorations, and who might dance with whom.
Near the center of the room, High Lord Dante Ironclad stood with a few older lords, one hand wrapped around a cup, listening more than speaking.
Vane , for his part, had claimed a chair like it had personally invited him. He lounged with a plate of pastries, one leg slung over the other.
Across from him, Princess Endora Harley sat in a straight-backed chair, posture perfect, gown a deep green that complemented her maroon eyes. Her mother, Evelina Harley, was nearby in a knot of noblewomen.
She's lord Radimir Harley's daughter and a distant cousin of Alistair and Vane, who had already been drawn into the political circle with Dante and a few other senior men.
Endora lifted her cup of blood tea, barely sipping. Her gaze drifted, searching for a familiar figure.
Where is he?
Alistair D'Veltheron had not yet appeared.
Vane popped another pastry into his mouth, chewing with lazy enjoyment.
"Cousin," he said to Endora, eyeing her over the rim of his cup. "You look like you're planning someone's funeral."
Endora's mouth curved faintly. "Only yours, Vane."
"That seems excessive," he said. "I haven't even done anything…today."
She let her eyes wander again. "Is Alistair avoiding his own guests?" she asked lightly. "Or is he just late on purpose, as usual?"
Vane smirked.
"He's working," he said. "Dante's just come from him. They're dealing with last-minute nonsense so the rest of you can drink tea in peace."
Endora's gaze flicked briefly to Dante, then back.
"How dutiful," she said. "And the rest of your court? I hear there's…new company."
Vane's smile sharpened. "Ah. You've heard?"
"There's very little I don't hear," Endora said smoothly. "Rumors of a southern witch have a way of traveling faster than carriages."
Vane leaned back, considering her.
"Princess Elissa Starwind," he said. "The prophecy's witch. The one everyone keeps whispering about."
Endora's fingers tightened slightly on her cup, though her voice stayed calm.
"What is she like?" she asked. "Beyond the dramatic title."
Vane shrugged lazily.
"Smaller than you'd expect," he said. " Wrong for this place.Too polite. But she doesn't simper, which is nice."
"Wrong.... How?" Endora arched a brow. "You sound almost impressed. What's she like?"
Vane's mouth curved. "You'll see soon enough. Be patient, Endora. Meeting her in person will be much more entertaining than hearing my opinion."
A girl seated nearby leaned a bit closer, eyes bright. Veloria Gibson, only daughter of Duke Boden Gibson, pretended disinterest even as she listened, curiosity warming her eyes.
"She must be brave or foolish," Veloria murmured. "To walk into this lair at all."
"Maybe both," Vane said. "She's not…stunning, at first glance. Not like some of you who enter a room and demand attention. She's quieter. The kind you notice twice and then can't stop seeing."
Endora's jaw clenched so subtly most would miss it.
"And what does Alistair think of her?" she asked, voice low.
Vane's expression turned unreadable for a heartbeat.
"He thinks," Vane said. "Too much... About too many things." he watched with Measuring eyes of her reaction.
Veloria smiled slowly, swirling the blood in her cup.
"Now that," she said, "is interesting."
"She's just a girl pushed by prophecy," Endora said coolly. "This court is not kind to fragile things. So either she breaks, or she adapts. Either way, the…novelty should pass."
Vane snorted softly.
"If you say so," he said. "Still—" He glanced toward the doorway as another cluster of guests entered. "You might want to actually see her before you decide how harmless she is."
Endora lifted her chin. "Oh, I will," she said. "Very closely."
Her tone made it clear this was not a promise of friendship.
—
While Endora turned Elissa into a problem to be measured, someone else was about to meet the real girl without any plans at all.
Mack Harley had lasted exactly fifteen minutes in the parlour before his mind began to drift.
The talk was too heavy, too adult, circling the same topics he'd heard his father and uncles complain about at home. The only mention of the ball that interested him was the food, and no one seemed to want to discuss that.
So, as soon as his mother's attention shifted, he slipped silently out of the room.
The corridors beyond were quieter. Colder. High windows let in strips of fading light, painting the portraits along the walls in long bars of shadow and gold.
Mack walked slowly, hands in his pockets, studying the paintings like they were a new set of faces at a party. Long-dead lords stared down at him, grim and proud. A queen with hair like spun silver watched him with eyes he didn't like at all.
He turned a corner—and almost collided with a house helper carrying folded linens.
"Sorry!" he blurted, stepping back.
The girl bobbed a quick curtsey. "No harm done, my lord," she said, then hurried past, skirts swishing softly.
Mack exhaled, then kept moving.
He was wondering how far he could go before someone dragged him back when he heard footsteps and low voices coming from ahead.
"…I know the way now, Martha," a girl was saying, a little exasperated. "I'm not going to get lost between the garden and my room."
"I said nothing about you getting lost," came Martha's dry reply. "I said I'm not letting you walk around alone when half the court is here and the other half is nosy."
Mack's face lit up. He knew that voice.
He rounded the bend and there they were—Martha in her familiar plain dress and sharp eyes, and beside her a girl in a rose‑pink gown, cloak loosened at her shoulders, hair faintly tousled from the wind.
Mack stopped, blinking.
She was…normal. Not glowing, not wreathed in mystery. Just a girl his cousin wasn't letting out of her sight.
Martha's eyes flicked up, saw him, and her expression softened in a way Mack had seen maybe three times in his life.
"Master Mack," she said. "Escaping already?"
"Strategic retreat," he said, grinning. Then his gaze slid to the girl. "Am I interrupting?"
"Only my complaining," the girl said. "Which I'm told I should keep to a minimum."
Martha huffed. "Princess Elissa, this is Mack Harley, Lord Radimir's youngest. Mack, this is Princess Elissa Starwind."
Mack's brain stumbled over her name.
He gave a quick, awkward bow.
"Oh," he said. "You're the—uh. I mean. Your Highness. It's…nice to meet you."
Elissa Starwind. The girl everyone was already using as a topic between sips of tea and bites of pastry.
She smiled, a little shy but genuinely.
"Just Elissa is fine," she said. "I'm still getting used to all the titles."
"That makes two of us," Mack said, relief loosening his shoulders. "Everyone in there is talking like every word might start a war."
"Often, they do," Martha muttered.
Mack glanced at her, then back to Elissa.
"Were you in the garden?" he asked.
Elissa nodded. "For a while. It's...quieter there."
"And she met Lucius Everhart," Martha added pointedly.
Mack's eyes widened. "Alone?"
"Not alone," Martha snapped. "I was there. And two guards."
"Oh," Mack said, relaxing a little. "Well. That's all right then. He's…all charm and teeth, that one."
"He was polite," Elissa said slowly. "Mostly."
Martha rolled her eyes. "Polite like a cat with a mouse."
Mack laughed under his breath.
"Do you—um. Do you like paintings?" he blurted, then mentally kicked himself. "I mean, this corridor has some interesting ones. If you like that sort of thing. Or if you're bored. Or both."
Elissa glanced at Martha, who shrugged.
"We're already on the way to her room," Martha said. "You can walk with us. Until the next turn."
"Yes, Martha," Mack said automatically, then winced. "I mean—thank you."
He fell into step on Elissa's other side. As they started walking, he pointed up at one of the huge portraits.
"That's Lord Thane," he said. "Tried to fight three wars at once. Lost them all. Dante says he's a warning more than an ancestor."
Elissa looked up and, for the first time that day, smiled wide and unguarded.
"Good to know," she said. "I'll try to only fight one war at a time."
Mack grinned. Martha shook her head, but she didn't hide her amusement.
Behind them, on the other side of the palace walls, Endora Harley lifted her cup in the parlour and listened to the echoes of Elissa Starwind's name bounce between mouths that had never seen her.
Mack, walking beside the real girl, decided quietly that the version of her being traded like gossip in that room was…wrong.
And that, whether anyone realized it yet or not, mattered.