The system's message echoed in my mind long after I left the conservatory, a grim counterpoint to Elliot's warning. All pieces are now hostile. Objective: Survive the first move. It felt less like a strategy and more like a death sentence. Every shadow seemed to hold a new threat, every polite smile a hidden dagger. The weight of the signet ring on my finger was no longer just a symbol of Darius's trust; it was a brand, marking me as a target for every ambitious rival in the estate.
I spent the remainder of the day in a state of nervous agitation, wandering the halls like a ghost. I avoided the main corridors, preferring the quiet solitude of the library and the unused east wing. I was a player on the board, the system had said, but I felt like a pawn, utterly out of my depth, surrounded by queens and knights who knew the game far better than I. Evelyne's challenge, the Dowager's disapproval, Seraphina's venom—they were all closing in, tightening the noose.
