The palace ballroom glittered like a glass jewel—light spilling from crystal chandeliers, polished floors shining like mirrors. Music danced through the air, as sweet and sharp as the smiles of the nobles swirling beneath it.
Aveline stood at the top of the staircase, her entrance like a blade slicing through silk.
She wore midnight blue, trimmed in starlight silver—no longer the soft pinks and blushes they expected of her. No longer trying to look like a blushing bride.
The crowd shifted, their whispers starting before she even stepped forward.
"She dares to show her face?"
"After rejecting the prince? The nerve."
"She looks like she's here to make war, not dance."
Good.
Caden appeared at her side like a shadow in motion.
"You've caused quite a stir," he murmured, offering his arm.
She took it. "That was the point."
"Remember what I told you," he said under his breath. "Lord Selgrin will be here. He's one of the names on that list."
Aveline's gaze sharpened. "Then let's give him something to remember."
Lord Selgrin stood near the far end of the ballroom, sipping wine with the confidence of a man too arrogant to imagine himself exposed.
Aveline walked toward him with deliberate grace, the crowd parting like waves around her. Caden trailed at a polite distance—close enough to intervene, far enough to let her lead.
"Lord Selgrin," Aveline said, her voice smooth as velvet over a dagger. "How long it's been."
The man turned, startled for only a second before a sneer crept onto his face. "Lady Aveline. Or should I say… former future crown princess?"
She smiled sweetly. "I find that titles are often like masks. Some suit us better once we take them off."
Selgrin chuckled. "Still sharp-tongued, I see. But you're out of favor now, girl. Best to remember your place."
Aveline leaned in slightly, her voice dropping. "Oh, I remember it. Right beneath the dagger you helped put in my back."
His smile froze.
"I don't know what you mean," he said quickly.
"Oh, I think you do," she replied. "Treason. Assassination. A web of lies tied neatly with your name."
The music still played. The nobles still danced. But the space around them tightened, a silent ring of tension forming.
"You should be careful with your accusations," Selgrin hissed. "People who speak too freely often find themselves silenced."
"People who betray me," Aveline said softly, "often regret they lived long enough to do it."
She turned on her heel, leaving his face pale and fists clenched at his sides
As she walked away, Caden fell into step beside her.
"Well?" he asked.
"He's rattled," she said. "That's all I needed for now."
Across the Ballroom
From the upper balcony, Prince Lucien watched her, one hand resting lightly on the railing, the other clenched in a black glove.
"She's not hiding anymore," his cousin murmured beside him.
"No," Lucien said, eyes fixed on her. "She's making a move."
"And you'll allow it?"
Lucien's gaze flicked toward Lord Selgrin—then back to Aveline, who now laughed at something the court mage whispered.
He hated that laugh.
He missed it.
"She wants to play," Lucien murmured, his voice low. "Let's see how well she dances."