The days had slipped by quietly since Princess Yasmin had found the mysterious woman and brought her back to the palace.
The kingdom of Solmira buzzed with curiosity-rumors whispered through the marble halls, carried by servants and guards alike. A stranger, bloodied and unconscious, discovered near the river border by none other than the princess herself? It was the sort of story that didn't fade overnight.
The court healers had worked tirelessly, their chambers filled with the faint hum of whispered incantations and the sharp scent of crushed herbs. Yasmin had ordered them to spare no effort. No one dared question her-not when she had returned drenched in crimson, carrying the half-dead woman in her arms.
Days passed.
And in the quiet of the healer's wing, as dawn light spilled like molten gold across silk curtains and polished marble, the woman finally stirred.
---
Althena - POV
It was the pain that woke me.
Not the soft bedsheets. Not the faint golden light leaking through the carved windows. Not even the subtle scent of medicinal herbs hanging in the air.
It was the sharp stab beneath my ribs, followed by the throbbing ache at the back of my skull. My breath caught in my throat as I blinked against the light.
I was alive.
Slowly, my eyes adjusted, taking in the high ceiling, the silken canopy above, and the polished floors. Definitely not a healer's hut. Not some roadside shack. No-this was a palace?
Panic surged in me for a split second. My hand jerked up-too fast-and fire lanced through my side.
"-Ah!" I gasped and fell back with a wince.
Everything hurt.
Bandages crisscrossed my arms, my ribs tightly wrapped. Even moving my neck tugged at the wound near my temple. Each shallow breath was a reminder that my body had been pushed beyond limits.
I tried to sit up again, slower this time. My chest ached like something heavy had been pressing on it for days. Pain radiated with every small movement, making me question if I had the strength to even stay upright.
A door creaked open.
"Stop moving."
The voice was stern. Female. Clipped like a blade.
A healer in blue robes strode in and approached without rushing. She wasn't old, but there was no softness in her tone. Every movement she made exuded control, efficiency, and authority.
"You open your eyes for the first time in days and the first thing you do is try to rupture your stitches? Idiot girl."
"Good morning to you, too," I croaked, my voice rough and low. "Nice to know the palace staff is so gentle."
She raised an eyebrow, checking the poultice on my side. "Still sarcastic. That's a good sign."
"How long?"
"Four days. You were barely breathing when Her Highness brought you in."
Her Highness.
The memory hit me like a wave. The woman in the forest. The cold beauty with storm in her eyes and command in her voice. She had jumped into the river. She had saved me.
"I... didn't imagine her then," I murmured.
The healer snorted. "You mean Princess Yasmin? No. She doesn't usually go swimming in blood-covered rivers to save strangers. So consider yourself... interesting."
Interesting?
I let my head fall back into the pillow, letting out a soft hiss. "My side feels like someone used it for sword practice."
"They did," the healer replied dryly. "You were stabbed. Nearly bled out. Your head was cracked. And your body? Covered in bruises, cuts, burns. Frankly, you're lucky to be alive."
I didn't feel lucky.
I felt... drained. Weak. Raw.
But I was alive. That counted for something.
The healer finished adjusting my wrappings and set a cup of water on the table beside me.
"She'll want to see you soon," she added. "The Princess. You were unconscious the whole time. She's asked for updates every morning. Haven't seen her look... curious in a long time."
That caught me off guard.
"The cold one?" I asked, wincing as I shifted. "She's curious about me?"
The healer shrugged. "You smiled at her right after dying, called her an angel, and passed out in her arms. I'd be curious too."
I groaned, dragging a hand across my face. "Gods. That happened?"
"Oh, it happened," she said with a smirk. "And the guards are still talking about it."
Wonderful.
Embarrassment burned in my chest, but it didn't last. It was swallowed by the pain, the raw truth that I had survived.
I'd been seen. Brought here.
And they didn't know who I was.
The healer left quietly, closing the door behind her.
I lay back against the pillow, letting the silence stretch for a moment. My breath still came in shallow gasps, each one a reminder of how fragile I remained. Yet even in weakness, a spark of awareness flickered.
As soon as I was alone, I let my eyes narrow, the soft, almost thankful smile on my lips twisting into something darker.
The smirk spread slowly, deliberately.
Game has started.
And things... would get interesting.
---
Princess Yasmin - POV
The hallway outside the healer's wing was quiet, as always. The polished marble reflected the pale morning light streaming through the tall windows. Guards posted outside snapped to attention and bowed immediately as I approached.
"She's awake, Your Highness," one of them said, voice careful. "The healer said she's lucid. Tired. Still in pain, but-"
"But alive," I finished curtly.
He nodded. I gave no further reply before stepping inside, letting the soft click of my boots echo behind me. The scent hit me first-salves and herbs, sharp and medicinal, layered over the lingering coppery hint of blood.
She was awake.
And staring straight at the window, pale face tilted toward the light as if absorbing it with careful calculation.
Her hair was tousled, dark strands clinging to her bandaged temple. Her ribs were wrapped tightly, bandages crisscrossing like a cage. Bruises bloomed along her jaw and arms. She drew each shallow breath with measured care, yet her eyes-bright, sharp, unbroken-were focused on me. Alert. Unyielding.
"Princess Yasmin," she said, voice hoarse, lips dry but precise, forming my title like it was a weapon. "The angel returns."
I raised an eyebrow, letting a pause stretch long enough to make her uneasy.
"How do you know my name?" I asked, my tone flat, controlled.
Her gaze didn't waver. "The healer told me."
I tilted my head slightly, intrigued despite myself. "You've recovered your wit faster than your strength, I see."
"Pain sharpens the tongue, Your Highness," she replied, wincing as she pushed herself into a half-seated position, her movements deliberate, careful. "Thank you... for saving my life."
I inclined my head slightly, my arms folded. "You're in the palace of Solmira. Healer Wing. You were unconscious for four days. You almost died."
"I noticed," she murmured, voice faint but clear, a faint smirk playing on her lips despite the obvious effort it cost her.
"And yet you're already talking in riddles," I muttered, my eyes narrowing. "What's your name?"
She hesitated. A single flicker of uncertainty crossed her face. Then, finally-"Althena."
"Where are you from?" I pressed, my voice softer, yet layered with authority.
Another pause. Too measured. Too careful. "I... don't remember," she said.
I frowned. "You speak with the clarity of someone who remembers everything."
Althena gave a faint, humorless smile. "Head injuries are strange, aren't they?"
I said nothing, merely studying her.
She didn't flinch. Most people would have cowered under such a stare. Not her. She held my gaze like it was a challenge, daring me to strike first with words or judgment.
"I'll find out eventually," I said softly. "What you are. Who you are. And why you were alone and bleeding near our river border."
Her expression didn't change. "You're welcome to try."
I blinked. She dared?
"You're bold," I said coldly.
She smiled again, small, almost imperceptible-but infuriating. "I nearly died. You'll find I no longer have time for fear."
I stepped closer. My boots made no sound on the polished floor. Her breath hitched-not from fear, I realized. From pain, perhaps. Her hand trembled just slightly as she gripped the bedsheet.
I stopped at the edge of her bed, gaze sharp. "I saved your life."
"And I'll repay that debt," she said, voice low, even, unwavering.
"How?" I asked, letting my tone linger between curiosity and command.
Her eyes darkened slightly, and the faintest curl of a smile appeared at her lips. "However you wish."
The silence that followed crackled in the room. Every second stretched, loaded with unspoken tension. I studied her for a long moment, noting the way her chest rose unevenly with pain, how her fingers clutched the blanket like a lifeline, the strange resilience in her eyes.
Then I straightened, voice clipped. "I'll return later. Rest. You'll need your strength."
"Will I?" she murmured behind me, a faint rasp of defiance in her tone.
I paused, hand on the door. I didn't turn back. "You also need to answer to the King and Queen, and our council."
She said nothing further.
I stepped out, leaving the room, my boots clicking on the marble as I walked away.
She was dangerous. And she was bold. Annoying, perhaps, too.
I didn't know how yet.
But I would.
---
Althena - POV
Days passed.
I had healed enough to walk on my own. Every step was still cautious, slow, as if testing my strength, though truthfully I didn't need the cane I carried. Not anymore. But appearances mattered. People's perception mattered. And the reason for my charade... would reveal itself soon.
Princess didn't wasted single minute once I was able to move she summoned me to the council.
So now here I was, sitting in the grand council room. The vaulted ceilings loomed above, sunlight streaming through stained-glass windows, throwing splintered colors onto the polished floor.
At the head of the table sat King Alaric, stern, commanding, his silver eyes fixed on me like steel blades. Beside him, Queen Evaline, graceful, poised, and wise, regarded me with a soft but analytical gaze. Prince Kaelen lounged slightly to the side, ever composed yet alert. And, of course, Princess Yasmin. Her gaze alone sent shivers down my spine-sharp, curious, calculated. I only knew her name, but that was enough for now.
The rest of the table was filled with noble council members-some whispering among themselves, some scribbling notes. Soldiers and a captain stood at attention near the side walls.
The interrogation began.
The captain stepped forward first, bowing. "Your Highness, our investigation confirms that this woman is not related to the looters' team. She bears no trace of connection. However... her origin remains a mystery."
All eyes turned toward me. The weight of their scrutiny pressed down like iron.
King Alaric's voice cut through the room, firm and commanding. "We only know your name. Where are you from? And why were you in our forest?"
I looked up, blinking slowly, as if dredging memories from a swamp.
"Your Highness..." I began, soft and hesitant. "I... I don't remember clearly."
Queen Evaline's voice came gently. "How can that be, child?"
I swallowed. "I only remember fragments. May I... try to explain?"
She nodded once. "Please do."
So I spun the lie.
I nodded slightly, closing my eyes for a brief moment, as if gathering the shards of memory. "When I was... around eight... no, nine... or maybe eight..." I paused, faltering slightly. A tear prickled at my eye. "I... I lost my parents in an attack. I don't even remember their faces... their voices."
The first tear fell, then another, sliding down my cheek. My voice broke slightly, but I quickly softened it, controlled the tone just enough to appear fragile, innocent.
"Our village was destroyed... ruined... after the attack," I continued. "Some of my people survived... we left together. But after some time, I was separated... lost them as well. Alone, I wandered from forest to forest, village to village, trying... trying to survive."
I paused again, letting the silence stretch. The tension in the room shifted; the first glimmers of sympathy appeared. I allowed myself a small, controlled sniffle, wiping my face delicately with the back of my hand.
"And then... that day," I said, voice trembling faintly, "I was attacked by the looters in your forest. I... I would have died if not for Princess Yasmin." I gave a subtle, almost innocent smile. "Thanks to her, I'm alive now."
A beat of silence.
I had made my innocent face, a soft, broken smile that drew sympathy-but inside....
Inside a fire roared. Rage, hatred, and a hunger for answers.
None of it showed. Not a flicker. I had become a master of masks.
King Alaric leaned back in his chair, his silver eyes softening slightly, though the sharpness never left them. "That... is tragic. To lose everything at such a young age..." His voice carried weight, authority, but also sympathy.
Queen Evaline's hand reached slightly toward me, resting gently on the table. "You've endured more than many could bear. And yet... you survived. That is remarkable."
Prince Kaelen, usually reserved, let out a low, respectful hum. "You've suffered greatly, yet you speak so clearly, so calmly. Most would break entirely."
Some of the council members murmured in agreement. A few nodded, heads lowered in acknowledgment of my story. Even the soldiers shifted slightly, some exchanging glances, the room filled with quiet murmurs of pity and admiration.
Princess Yasmin, however, sat silently, her eyes fixed on me. Not pity. Not concern. Curiosity. Her gaze was sharp, calculating, as if measuring the truth behind my story, searching for cracks I hadn't shown.
I held my composure. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk threatened to curl on my lips, but I suppressed it. Patience. Observation. Timing. Every word, every gesture, every tear had been carefully curated.
"You've shown remarkable endurance," the King said finally. "Even in the face of such loss, you survived. That... deserves recognition."
"Yes, indeed," Queen Evaline added, voice soft. "And yet, your journey is only beginning. There is more to uncover, and I hope we will learn of it soon, dear girl."
I nodded, letting a quiet, obedient posture wash over me. "Yes, Your Highness, Your Majesties," I murmured, voice low, controlled. Inside, though, my mind raced. Every sympathetic glance, every soft word was another piece of the game. Every flicker of trust and pity could be used.
Princess Yasmin's lips twitched faintly at the corner-just barely. Observation. Calculated. Not a single emotion wasted.
I sat there, letting the council absorb my story, allowing them to sympathize, admire, and pity... while the fire of my own vengeance and curiosity burned quietly beneath the surface.
Yes. This game... had only just begun.