"Tea for Queens and Devils"
The morning light fell softly over the royal wing of the palace like spilled milk, bright yet cold, and utterly indifferent to the war simmering in the heart of Princess Selene.
Draped in an elaborate gown of wine-red satin threaded with black flame embroidery, Selene stood at the wide arched balcony of her private chamber. The light touched her skin like reverence, yet it did nothing to soothe the sharp coldness in her eyes.
Her hands, delicate but sure, clenched around the silver balustrade.
A maid. A maid?!
Elowen's name was poison in her mouth.
The memory of yesterday's whispers still echoed in the corridors—Prince Derek had summoned a maid after the selection test. After all the princesses. After her.
Selene's thoughts coiled like vipers. She was elegant, refined, undeniably beautiful. Her hair was the color of scorched gold, pinned high with ivory combs, her eyes a piercing ash-gray that softened only when she was playing a part.
Why would he look at that girl? That pathetic, low-born stray I picked from the dirt?
She had picked Elowen once—yes. As a passing favor. A pet. A project.
And I can unpick her.
Jeria, her head maid, approached from the side, dressed in deep teal with matching gloves, her hands clasped respectfully in front of her.
"You asked for me, Your Highness."
Selene turned slowly, face composed, voice sweetened to honey-laced venom.
"Get the cloak. I'm going to see Princess Xyril."
Jeria blinked. "You'll grant her audience?"
Selene smiled—thinly. "Apparently, she was seeking mine too. I can only imagine what that innocent face is hiding."
The palace courtyard was alive with tension. A wide obsidian wall stood at its heart, names of the surviving candidates etched in radiant white across its surface. The wall shimmered with magic—rejecting lies, displaying only what the court had confirmed.
Selene's eyes found her name quickly—Fourth.
Her brows lifted, lips parting slightly in pleased surprise.
"Fourth," she murmured, pride blooming like fire beneath her breast.
Jeria squealed softly beside her. "My lady! You ranked above dozens of royal bloodlines!"
Selene's pride darkened into a smirk. She let her gaze drift across the others—princesses quietly weeping, or standing stiff with humiliation. A few left with heads bowed, their guards trailing behind them like silent reminders of their defeat.
But one name held her gaze.
And there she was.
Gliding across the courtyard with all the grace of falling snow.
Princess Xyril was a vision of ethereal calm. Her gown was the color of periwinkle twilight, embroidered with silver leaves that shimmered with each movement. Her dark hair fell in soft waves down her back, framing a face that was too gentle to be human—but her eyes told another story.
Those eyes—deep blue, clear, commanding, unblinking—looked straight through Selene like she could unspool her soul.
"Princess Selene," she greeted, her voice like warm rain. "A moment to celebrate our success?"
Selene tilted her head, lips curved with polite arrogance.
"I wasn't aware we were collaborators."
Xyril laughed gently, eyes glittering. "We're not. But we do have intersecting fates. Please—join me for tea?"
Selene's eyes narrowed, but she nodded with exaggerated grace. "Lead the way."
Xyril's private courtyard was delicate—pale lilac flowers blooming in circular beds, soft wind chimes singing in the breeze, and a glass pavilion draped in translucent silks. The tea table was set with perfection: bone china cups, rose sugar, slices of honeycomb, all overseen by Xyril's two maids—tall, pale-skinned girls with translucent veils and hands that moved like trained dancers.
Selene sat with deliberate poise, legs crossed, her long sleeve brushing the side of her thigh-high boots. She took the cup offered, smiling at intervals without ever blinking.
"It's nice meeting you, Selene," Xyril began, stirring her tea slowly, gaze never leaving her guest. "Actually, I've long wished to speak with you, but you seemed… busy."
Selene smiled back—icy and practiced.
"You've seen well, Xyril. It's hard to make time when you're being courted by the Crown Prince."
There. Let it sting.
Xyril didn't flinch.
She sipped once, set the cup down, then folded her hands gently.
"We all came here for different reasons. Some came for love. Others, for power. Some..." she smiled faintly, "came because they have nothing left to lose."
Selene's smile thinned, the edge of mockery returning.
"So you believe yourself one of the noble dreamers?"
Xyril's voice darkened—not in tone, but in presence.
"I believe you have a threat sleeping beside you, Selene."
Selene's cup paused mid-air.
"Elowen," Xyril continued softly. "Your maid."
Selene's façade cracked slightly—her lips pulled inward, eyes narrowing.
"What about her?"
Xyril didn't rush.
"She has crossed paths with the Crown Prince. Twice. And now? Even the whispers from the west wing say he is… watching her."
Selene's jaw tensed.
She gave Jeria a look—a silent question.Jeria paled, eyes flicking to the side.
Useless, Selene thought.
"How do you know this?" Selene asked coolly. "And why would you tell me?"
Xyril rose slowly, like water pouring into its final form. Her maids bowed as she stepped around the table.
"Because tradition allows the prince three choices. Three rings. But in the end, he'll only place the crown on one head."
She leaned in, lips inches from Selene's ear.
"And before I begin the true path to my goal—I need your maid."
Selene blinked.
"Why?"
Xyril smiled, soft and terrifying.
"Because she's beautiful. And he's intrigued. And I don't like interference."
Selene stood abruptly—the teacup shattered in her hand.
The maids jumped back in alarm.
"How dare you compare me to a stray I rescued from dirt?! I am a noble, a flame born, a future queen!"
Xyril didn't flinch. She turned her back, arms behind her.
"You'll never be queen," she said softly. "Not if she's alive."
Selene's voice trembled in fury. "Why don't you contend for the crown then?"
Xyril paused.
Then, in a voice that was almost a whisper, she leaned close once more.
"Because I don't want the prince."
Selene's fury paused, confused.
"What?"
Xyril's lips curved.
"I want the devil."
She straightened. Her expression serene.
"Think about my offer, Selene."
With a final glance, she gestured to her maids, who followed her in flawless silence as she drifted through the hanging silks and vanished.
Leaving behind a shattered cup.
A seething princess.
And the echo of a name that should not have been spoken.