Chapter Two: The First Thread
The palace was exactly as I remembered it—too bright, too pristine, too gilded with lies.
I moved through the halls like a ghost among the living, trying to ignore the ache in my chest as I passed familiar faces. I remembered who would betray me. Who would die. Who would never see the end of that war. Every smile felt like a dagger turned inward.
"Princess Elira?"
I turned to see Marella, my handmaid—young and untouched by the horrors that would one day claim her life. Her brown eyes were kind, her voice soft. She had once died shielding me from a blade during the uprising.
Alive now. Smiling.
"Would you like to wear the lavender gown for court today?" she asked.
My throat tightened. "No," I said, managing to keep my voice steady. "The navy one with silver trim. And braid my hair like the queens of old."
She blinked in surprise, but bowed her head. "At once, Your Highness."
My chambers still faced the royal gardens, the same terrace where Kael had once kissed me for the first time. I didn't let myself look out at it. Not yet.
Instead, I sat before the vanity and let Marella brush out my hair. My thoughts spiraled with every pull of the comb.
I had two years before everything crumbled.
Two years before my father, King Aramon, would die.
Two years before Kael would place a dagger in my back—metaphorically, then literally.
Two years to untangle the web of betrayal.
The throne room was filled with sunlight and sycophants.
I took my place beside the King for the morning court session, watching as nobles presented their petitions, offered bribes dressed as gifts, and gossiped behind silk-gloved hands.
And then I saw him.
Duke Alvan Stride. One of Kael's hidden allies. He would someday vote for my execution.
I smiled sweetly as he approached.
"My dear Princess," he said, bowing low. "You look radiant this morning."
"As do you, my lord," I replied, voice honeyed. "Though I thought you resided in the eastern provinces this time of year."
He blinked. "I... do. I returned early to pay my respects before Prince Kael's arrival."
So it begins, I thought.
Aloud, I said, "I look forward to seeing him again."
A lie. I looked forward to watching him burn.
Later that afternoon, I slipped away to the Royal Library.
It smelled of old parchment and secrets, just as I remembered.
I sought out the historical archives—particularly records on House Varyn, Kael's family. I needed to remember every political alliance, every council vote, every public act that hid treason underneath.
As I pulled an old scroll from the shelf, a low voice interrupted.
"Strange choice for a sunny afternoon."
I turned.
A man stood a few feet away—tall, broad-shouldered, with dark hair tied back at the nape. He wore no noble crest, only a black uniform with silver trim. A soldier.
No—a commander.
"Who are you?" I asked, cautious.
He inclined his head. "Commander Caden Thorne. Newly appointed to the Royal Guard."
Thorne.
My heart stilled. His father had died protecting me. I had never known the son.
"You're young for a commander," I said, masking the sudden rush of emotion behind cool poise.
"And you're sharper than the court gossips claim," he replied.
My lips twitched. Interesting.
"I suppose we'll be seeing more of each other, then," I said.
He gave a small nod. "Seems that way."
As he left, I stared after him.
I had thought I'd be alone in this game. But perhaps... not.
Perhaps the gods had given me more than time.
Perhaps they'd given me allies.
Let the game begin.
To be Continued...