The palace grew livelier with each passing day.
Preparations for the queen's birthday ball were underway, and the halls transformed beneath the servants' hands. Garlands of fresh flowers lined the corridors, their fragrance clinging to the air, sweet and overwhelming. Chandeliers were polished until they gleamed, and silk banners draped the walls like flowing water.
Guests from distant kingdoms began to arrive, their carriages crowding the palace gates.
The queen, after all, was widely admired.
It was no secret how ineffective the king had become. The kingdom endured not because of him, but because of her.
"My lady," Lily said eagerly, trailing behind Eveline, "what will you wear to the ball? The first one, especially after your appointment, you'll be receiving guests on behalf of Her Majesty. You must look beautiful. With a face like yours, you'll distract everyone from politics entirely." She giggled. "Who knows? You might even find a husband."
"Lily," Eveline said abruptly, stopping in her tracks. "Don't follow me anymore."
She turned and walked away.
"My lady, wait...!" Lily hurried after her. "I can't leave you..."
Eveline quickened her steps, and collided with a solid chest.
"Well," a familiar voice drawled, amused, "look what the breeze delivered to me today."
She looked up.
Lucian stood before her, a knowing smirk playing on his lips.
"I don't recall requesting an audience with the crowned prince," Eveline said coolly, stepping back.
Lucian tilted his head, studying her. "And yet, here you are." His gaze lingered, unashamed. "Has anyone ever told you that you resemble a fairy?"
Eveline rolled her eyes. "On the contrary. Many have." She slipped her hand from his loose grasp. "You should change your lines next time, Your Highness."
She turned and left without another glance.
Lucian remained where he stood, momentarily dazed, watching her retreating figure until Lily nervously tugged at his sleeve in apology before rushing after Eveline.
Later that day, Eveline was summoned. She bowed as she entered. "My queen." Queen Daphne nodded, gesturing for her to sit.
Eveline did so cautiously, confusion flickering across her face. Rumors about the queen drifted through the court like smoke, some foolish, some dangerous. She hesitated, then spoke carefully.
"My queen… if this summons concerns my former profession, I wish to clarify that I no longer offer such services. Whatever reason you approached me for is known only to you. But if this concerns..." she paused, choosing her words, "...any form of indulgence, I must apologize. I am straight."
Daphne burst into laughter.
"So rumors do reach you quickly," the queen said, wiping a tear from her eye. "You need not concern yourself with my preferences, or my affairs. And while you are undeniably beautiful," she added lightly, "that cold expression of yours promises very little pleasure."
Eveline's cheeks warmed despite herself.
"But that is not why I called you," Daphne continued, her tone shifting. "Tell me, what did Madam Rubin order you to do?"
Eveline's posture stiffened. "What is Your Majesty implying?" Daphne rose and moved closer, sitting beside her. She reached out, gently brushing Eveline's hair back.
"Child," she said softly, "you should not carry the wounds of your past forever. You are young. You can love. You can leave this place."
Eveline pulled away. "And yet, Your Majesty appoints me as your lady-in-waiting," she said dryly. "You are fond of contradictions."
Daphne smiled faintly. "The palace is built on blood debts, I know that better than anyone. But some who seek repayment are buried beneath its stones instead." Her eyes sharpened. "Be careful. This place is full of scheming dogs."
She straightened. "I've noticed your absence from recent gatherings. Be sure to attend mine."
And with that, she left.
That night, Eveline lay on her bed, the queen's words echoing in her mind. A crooked smile curved her lips.
From a distant window, Anthony watched her cross the courtyard below.
She stretched lazily, hands resting at her hips as the evening breeze teased loose strands of her hair across her face. She tucked them behind her ear without thought and continued walking.
A knock sounded. A guard entered and bowed deeply. "My prince. News from the west. Master Brigham has made his move."
Anthony smiled faintly. "Take me to the Third Prince's chambers."
The soft echo of his wheelchair followed him down the corridor.
Anthony entered Alaric's room without ceremony.
Alaric was dressing, a dagger resting in his hand as he sharpened its edge.
"A surprise," Alaric remarked coolly. "To what do I owe this visit, brother?"
"They suspect you," Anthony said. "They suspect me?" Alaric scoffed. "I have nothing to hide."
Anthony's gaze sharpened. "You have her. I've seen the way you look at her. You're careless."
Anthony laughed quietly.
Alaric's smile did not reach his eyes. "I'm not surprised. The Second Prince reads emotions too easily." He tilted his head. "Perhaps it comes from experience, sacrificing everything for those we love."
Anthony's expression darkened, then smoothed. "I'll take my leave."
As he turned, Alaric added calmly, "Handle your affairs carefully, brother. Your attachments are… dangerous." "I can manage my own matters," Anthony replied.
"So can I," Alaric said softly. Anthony was wheeled into the garden. The night air was cool. He tilted his head toward the sky, exhaling slowly.
"I'm sorry, Peaches," he murmured.