The music never resumed.
Guards cordoned off the balcony as guests murmured and scattered like frightened birds. The Queen had risen from her throne but not moved an inch—her posture rigid, her eyes darting from her son to the bloodstained railing. The dead noble had been a quiet man, unremarkable in status, but no one dared say his murder wasn't deliberate. A message. A warning.
And Rose knew who it was for.
She slipped away from the crowd before the guards began asking questions. Kyle followed without a word, keeping pace until they reached the far hall—cool, quiet, empty.
"That man," Rose said. "By the Queen's side. I've never seen him before."
"I have," Kyle said grimly. "In a battlefield camp, five years ago. He was presumed dead."
"Who is he?"
"Lord Darius Vale," Kyle answered. "Royal advisor to the House of Noctheir—the same family that led the last rebellion. He vanished the night the palace burned."
Rose's stomach twisted. The same symbol. The same name. "Why is he here now?"
"Why do you think?" Kyle's jaw tensed. "He knows."
Rose turned sharply. "Knows what?"
Kyle held her gaze. "That you're not who you claim to be."
She froze.
"I've had my suspicions since the night we met," he continued. "You moved like someone used to power. You knew things no foreign princess should. And your eyes, Rose… they carry the weight of a war already lost."
Silence fell.
"You knew," she said quietly. "All this time."
"I suspected," he replied. "But I wanted to believe you'd tell me yourself."
"And if I didn't?"
"I would protect you anyway."
She looked away, her voice brittle. "Why?"
Kyle stepped closer. "Because I'm not loyal to your crown, or your secrets. I'm loyal to you."
Before she could answer, a rustle behind them made them both turn. A figure stepped from the shadows. Lord Darius.
Uninvited. Unbothered. Smiling like a man with nothing to fear.
"Forgive the intrusion," he said smoothly. "But I thought perhaps it was time we spoke."
Rose's hand went to her dagger, but Darius only raised his hands.
"If I wanted you dead, Princess, I wouldn't have used a blade in a ballroom. That was… meant for attention. You understand."
"You murdered someone," Kyle snapped.
"He was a traitor. And a warning," Darius replied, his eyes locked on Rose. "The Queen suspects what you are, but she doesn't know. I do."
Rose's voice was cold. "Then say it."
"You died once," he said softly. "And came back with memories no one should carry. That makes you dangerous. Powerful. And very useful."
Kyle stepped between them. "What do you want?"
"To offer her an alliance," Darius said without hesitation. "I am not your enemy, Princess. I am the man who can place you on the throne you were born for. Not this foreign crown, not Christopher's mercy—but your rightful vengeance."
Rose's breath caught. "Why help me?"
"Because we share a common enemy," Darius said. "Queen Mariam. And the bloodstained court that let you die."
The silence stretched.
Then Rose met his gaze. "You have one chance, Darius. Lie to me, and I'll carve the truth from your bones."
He smiled again. "I wouldn't dream of it."
As he vanished into the shadows once more, Kyle turned to Rose. "You can't trust him."
"I don't," she whispered. "But I'll use him."
She looked out the tall window, past the lights of the palace, to the dark horizon beyond.
"If war is coming," she said, "then it's time I stop pretending to be a piece on the board."
Kyle's voice was quiet. "And start playing as the queen?"
Rose turned, fire in her eyes. "No. As the player."