After Kael left, I didn't waste time. I summoned the attendants and stepped into the role I'd worn all my life—princess, diplomat, symbol. I didn't need guidance. I knew how to be watched. But today was different. Today, I wouldn't be watched as a daughter of Velthorne. Today, I will be studying as the Crown Princess of Drevak. The maids moved with quiet efficiency. No chatter. No fluster. Just smooth hands and clipped instructions. They'd likely dressed as nobility all their lives. But still, I felt the way their eyes lingered—curious, cautious. Measuring. I let them.They fastened me into a gown of charcoal silk over deep crimson layers—Drevak's colors unmistakable. The sleeves tapered elegantly at the wrists, and the collar sat high and structured. Every fold was precise, every stitch intentional. A slender diadem was placed in my hair, metal cool against my skin—subtle, not ostentatious, but sharp enough to make a statement. One of the maids hesitated at my shoulder, adjusting the fall of the fabric there. "Will you be addressing the court this morning, Princess?" I met her eyes in the mirror. "Only with my silence." Her lips parted slightly, but she didn't respond. She didn't need to. The message was clear. I'd come to be seen. Not handled.When they were finished, I gave a single nod. No compliments. No fawning. No inspection. I already knew how I looked—exactly as I intended. As I entered the hallway, a palace guard awaited outside the doors. "The Queen awaits you in the upper receiving hall." Of course, she does. I walked forward without hesitation, the hem of my gown whispering across the stone floor. My footsteps echoed off the vaulted walls, sharp and even.The corridors were colder than I expected, carved from smooth stone and framed with dark tapestries stitched in silver thread—ravens, daggers, winter thorns. Two guards flanked me silently as I walked, their armor polished to a mirror sheen, their expressions unreadable. I didn't speak to them. I didn't need to.This was not a friendly escort. It was a reminder. I was no longer a guest. I was no longer Vireya Velthorne. I was the Crown Princess of Drevak. And this morning, I would be seen. Not by the court. Not by advisors. By the royal family. The guards led me through a pair of heavy carved doors into a high-ceilinged chamber lit by narrow arched windows. Smaller than a throne room but no less commanding in its design. This was no receiving hall—it was the private dining hall of the Drevak royal family. A long obsidian table stretched the room's length, set for no more than eight. The silver serving dishes gleamed, and the scent of spiced meat and bitter tea clung faintly to the air. Everything was elegant and restrained. Nothing was excessive.At the head of the table sat Queen Alina Drevak, her posture flawless in a high-backed chair of blackwood carved with ravens. She wore a gown of deep garnet trimmed in steel-gray fur, her dark hair pinned in an elegant twist that left not a strand out of place. A silver diadem rested atop her head—not ostentatious but sharp as a blade. Everything about her said control. Containment. She was not smiling. To her left, an empty chair—Kael's, I realized instinctively. To her right, a noblewoman leaned slightly toward her, already mid-whisper. Tall, elegant, and dressed in slate silk, she radiated the kind of poise that came from long-standing influence. I recognized her from the dossier I'd studied during the journey.Lady Sybella Adair. Charming. Cunning. Dangerous in every room. Their conversation stopped the moment I stepped inside. I didn't falter. I approached slowly, deliberately, the hem of my gown gliding across the polished floor. Every eye in the room turned toward me—measured, curious, hungry. I bowed my head just enough to acknowledge the Queen—not lower. "Your Majesty," I said. Queen Alina regarded me coolly. "Crown Princess." Her voice carried the soft chill of unlit stone—polite, distant, immovable. "You are prompt," she continued, folding her hands atop the table. "A promising trait."I offered a measured smile. "I was told this kingdom values strength. I assumed punctuality was a good place to start." Something flickered in the Queen's eyes—perhaps amusement or warning. She gestured to a seat near the end of the table. "Sit." I obeyed. Not two breaths later, a servant appeared with a steaming cup of dark, spiced tea and a small plate of fruit and bread. I didn't touch it either. Not yet. Across from me, Queen Alina lifted her cup with elegant precision. "You will begin your lessons this afternoon. Court customs, Drevak law, military structure, and diplomatic conduct. Our people will not tolerate ignorance, even from their Crown Princess.""I don't expect them to," I replied. "And I don't intend to give them cause." She hummed once, setting her cup down. "We shall see." Her gaze lingered a second too long. I felt the chill of it in my bones. She was watching for cracks, and she was patient enough to wait for them. Queen Alina's gaze lingered, sharp and unflinching.To her right, Lady Sybella tilted her head, her gloved fingers brushing the rim of her untouched tea cup. Her smile was elegant, effortless—and entirely insincere. "We were just speaking of how gracefully you carry Drevak's colors, Crown Princess," she said. "It's no small thing to wear our steel and crimson and make it... your own." I turned slightly toward her, offering a nod that neither accepted nor refused the compliment. "They're striking colors. Easy to wear. Harder to earn." Her eyes gleamed. "Indeed. And yet you've done both, it seems... overnight."A murmur stirred at the far end of the table. Subtle. Intentional. "Drevak is not Velthorne," Sybella continued lightly as if we were old friends catching up over breakfast instead of circling one another with silk-wrapped blades. "Here, reputation is forged, not inherited. But I'm sure you'll find your footing quickly. After all, you've already proven yourself quite... adaptable." I smiled without showing my teeth. "Adaptability is survival, Lady Sybella. I was raised to survive." There was a flicker in her expression—gone instantly, but there. Queen Alina didn't interrupt. She simply observed, unmoving. Sybella pressed her napkin to her lips, eyes still on mine. "Let's hope that remains true. The wolves in Drevak are hungrier and far more patient than most.""I've never met a wolf that didn't bleed," I said quietly. "Patience or not." Silence followed. Then, at last, the Queen spoke, "Enough." The word was soft. But it silenced the room like a blade drawn in velvet. Sybella lowered her eyes, the image of submission. I didn't look away. Queen Alina's fingers curled loosely around her cup. "Your lessons will begin after the midday bell. A full tour of the palace, followed by a private audience with the Duchess Faelan. You'll attend the afternoon council session to observe. Speak only if addressed." I inclined my head. "Understood." She held my gaze a second longer, then turned away, dismissing me with the tilt of her chin. The conversation shifted elsewhere. Talk of trade routes. Ashkar's aggression. Rumors at the border. But the temperature in the room had changed. I had passed the first test. Barely. The conversation drifted from diplomacy to defense, the nobles speaking freely now that Queen Alina had turned her attention elsewhere. "Captain Daemon Vale returned from the Scarwood basin," a grizzled man down the table said, his tone dry. "Patrol team's gone. Found the bodies near the edge of the old ridge. Torn apart.""Shadow beasts?" someone asked. "Possibly. But the way they were laid out... that's what caught Vale's attention. Arranged in a curve. Precise spacing. Like someone wanted them seen." A few murmurs passed—dismissive, uneasy. "It's likely just a predator's habit," Queen Alina said, not even bothering to look up. "There are wild things in those woods. Vale has always been prone to dramatics." My blood ran cold. Arranged. That word. That shape.I remembered it too clearly—the ring of bodies at Kael's feet in my vision. The curve of corpses winding through the battlefield like a closing snare. Not chaotic. Deliberate. It wasn't the start of a war. It was a signpost on the road to the end. The one I had seen. The one where Kael died. I set my cup down carefully, pressing my hand to the table's edge to steady it. No one else noticed. No one else understood what it meant, but I did. The vision wasn't years away. It was moving already, and I had just heard its echo in the calmest room in the kingdom. I didn't flinch. I didn't speak but carefully folded the information in my mind and pressed it down behind my ribs like a concealed blade.The vision wasn't a warning anymore. It was a clock already ticking. When the Queen rose, I did too. The others followed. Formalities were exchanged, half-bows offered and mirrored, murmured goodbyes drifting like smoke. "I'll have someone escort you to the archives," Queen Alina said as she passed, her words crisp. "Your first lessons will begin there." I bowed my head slightly. "Of course, Your Majesty." But I didn't go straight to the archives. As soon as I was alone in the corridor with the escorting guards, I turned—slowly, calmly—and addressed the one nearest to me. "I'd like to see the incident report from the Scarwood basin," I said evenly. "The one Captain Vale submitted." The guard hesitated. "That report was sent to the High Command. I don't know if—""It's been referenced in open council," I interrupted, my voice steady, authoritative. "Which means it's not classified. I won't need long. Just a look." He looked uncertain but didn't argue. "I'll inquire, Crown Princess.""Do so," I said, already turning. "I'll be in the map chamber." I walked away without waiting for his reply. Let them think I was curious—simply eager to understand the terrain of my new kingdom, but I wasn't going to study maps. I was going to trace the location of the Scarwood basin—the ridge, the river, the edge of the wilds. I needed to see it because if the shape from my vision had begun to take form, then the next sign wouldn't be a whisper at a breakfast table. It would be a strike, and I had to be ahead of it. No one else could see the threat, but I had walked through it. I had watched Kael fall. And I refused to let the first ripple of his death pass without a fight.The door to the map chamber groaned open as I stepped inside. It was cooler here—windowless, built deep into the stone belly of the palace. The scent of old parchment, wax, and iron filled the air, grounded in the weight of too many decisions made in too little time. No one else was present. Good. The chamber was circular, with tall shelves stacked with scrolls and military briefings. In the center stood a massive round table of blackened wood, carved with the full relief of the kingdom: mountains, rivers, roads, outposts, fortresses, and the whispering dark of the wilds beyond. I walked around the edge slowly, scanning for the name. Scarwood Basin. There. The trees grew thicker near the border, and the land dipped toward the cliffs. An isolated patrol station sat marked on the ridge. It had no label, just a sigil carved in red wax. Faded. Forgotten. I ran my fingers lightly along the basin's edge, tracing its arc.The same curve I'd seen in my vision. Bodies bent at unnatural angles. Kael standing at its center, sword in hand, alone. A chill scraped along the back of my neck. No one had noticed the shape. Not yet. They thought it was scattered violence. But I'd seen this before. A circle that wasn't a circle. It was a loop that only closed when blood had filled every gap and started here. Movement at the edge of the table caught my eye.A folded message was tucked beneath a weight of documents—unsealed, slightly smudged. Not formal. A scout's note, perhaps. My fingers hovered near it. Then I heard the door behind me shift. I turned slowly. A tall, broad-shouldered man stood on the threshold, dressed not in court silks but the dark leather of command. Gray streaked the edges of his hair, but nothing was soft about him. His eyes were sharp, steady, and far too observant.Lord Commander Elias Rook. Kael's second. His closest ally. And now he was staring at me like I didn't belong. "My lady," he said slowly. "This chamber is reserved for the military council." I didn't flinch. "Then perhaps it's time the Crown Princess started acting like someone who will sit on one." He didn't move, didn't smile. After a moment, he stepped fully into the room and closed the door behind him. "I assume you're not here for the scenic tour," he said. I met his gaze. "No. I'm here for the Scarwood report." A pause. Then—"You're already chasing ghosts, then?""No," I said, resting my fingertips against the basin on the map. "I'm chasing patterns." He approached the table slowly, his gaze never straying from mine—even as his hand came to rest on the carved edge of the map just opposite where mine hovered. "Patterns," he repeated, voice low. "You're either smarter than most credit you for... or reckless.""Why not both?" I said. The corner of his mouth twitched. Not a smile. Just a shift. "I've seen reckless. It looks more desperate than this.""Then you haven't seen desperate done well," I replied. That earned me a proper glance—a flicker of something behind those dark eyes. Not amusement. Not distrust. Curiosity.He tapped a fingertip on the Scarwood ridge. "It was a clean patrol. No warning. Nothing left but bodies and a message no one can read." "I can," I said before I meant to. His head tilted slightly. "How?" Too fast, too sharp. I smoothed my expression. "Because I've read enough of them in other places. Different kingdoms. Different wars. There are patterns to chaos, Commander. Sometimes, it only looks like madness if you're standing too close." He studied me in silence, then: "That's not a Velthorne answer." I met his gaze without blinking. "That's a Crown Princess of Drevak answer."A longer pause this time. The room felt still, thick with quiet calculation. Then he stepped closer and pulled out one of the scout documents from beneath the pile. He didn't hand it to me—just unfolded it across the table. A charcoal sketch. Crude but clear. Seven bodies. Arched in a curve. Angled limbs. Deliberate spacing. An unnatural stillness in the lines. I stared at it for a long moment and then spoke, my voice barely above a whisper. "Scarwood is the first," Elias said nothing, but I felt his attention sharpen. "You think this will escalate," he said. "Soon." "I don't think," I replied. "I know." He folded the paper again. "That's Kael's patrol territory." I nodded once. "Does he know you're here?" I looked up at him. "Does it matter?" He didn't answer. Instead, he tucked the report back into its folder, slow and methodical. "Whatever you're chasing, Princess... be careful where you step.""I'm not chasing," I said, turning toward the door. "I'm preparing." He didn't stop me. But as I stepped into the corridor, I felt the weight of his eyes still on my back—watching, measuring. Not hostile, not welcoming. Just... aware, and maybe that was enough—for now. The corridor outside the map chamber was empty. For once. No guards, no whispers, no footsteps echoing behind mine. Just the soft hush of silk brushing stone and the low, distant hum of voices far away—unconcerned, unaware.I didn't rush. My pace was slow and deliberate, as if I could walk the edges of my thoughts and smooth them out before they frayed. Scarwood. The curve of bodies. Captain Vale's report. Elias's gaze—steady and sharp like Kael's, but colder. More patient. They all believed what happened in the woods was just the start of something dangerous, but I knew better. It wasn't the start. It was a piece of the end. I'd already seen a thread fraying in the tapestry torn to shreds, and it terrified me how easily no one noticed. The palace passed around me in soft gold and gray—archways casting lines of light across the stone, banners whispering above, long shadows pulling across quiet alcoves. It should have been peaceful. It wasn't. It was too quiet.I stopped beside a tall window carved into the inner wall. The glass was fogged near the bottom, catching faint warmth from the sun beyond. My reflection stared back at me—flawless hair, Drevak's colors, a diadem set like a promise across my brow. I looked like her, like a princess. Like a queen-in-waiting, but inside, I could still feel the blood on my hands from the vision. The cold in my lungs. The weight of Kael's body when he fell.My throat tightened—but I didn't cry. I couldn't afford to. Instead, I pressed one hand lightly to the stone beside the window. Cool. Solid. Unmoving. "I will not let this kingdom break him," I whispered, barely a sound. "And I will not let it break me." The click of distant heels echoed softly from the hall ahead. Time to move. I straightened, fixed my expression, and walked forward—calm, poised, unshaken. Let Duchess Elara see a princess. Let her try to find the cracks. Let her try to pull at my seams. She would not be the first. And she would not be the one to unravel me.
