The capital had been altered.
Or, perhaps it was Kaelith who had changed.
As the creaking carriage made its way through golden banners and marble gates into the royal courtyard, she felt it. The shift. Once, she had lived and loved these halls as the Crown Prince's betrothed. What a scandal that had been.
Now, she stepped into silence—enveloped in shadows.
Presumed outcast, Duchess Kaelith Ravencourt lived in a self-imposed, fantasized isolation, sipping delusions of insanity.
A mad cycle. I will play the part today.
Officials, noblemen, foreign dignitaries—none were spared the sight of her. Not dressed for fanfare, but still commanding the air: Kneel before the Crown Princess of the Empire. Conversations froze mid-sentence. Eyes lit up with scandalous delight. Nervous fans fluttered like moths to flame.
No gown could match the expectations set. And yet, she wore a masterpiece of velvet, its silver thorned contours hugging her form. A silhouette of the infamous Ravencourt crest—a golden raven with wings outstretched—marked her heart. Her braided crown caught the light like a halo woven from strands of ice.
A herald, voice unsteady, called out:
"Announcing... Duchess Kaelith Ravencourt."
Bathed in...
Only gossip.
"They thought protocol would be paramount. Extreme were the abuses?"
"She survived exile?"
She walked without fear, unbothered by their scrutiny. Every step of disgrace felt like a coronation.
Sunlight poured through stained-glass windows depicting forgotten kings and saints, painting color across the Grand Hall. The royal family stood on a white marble dais at the end of the chamber, velvet flags raised above.
King Vaelric loomed, gray-bearded and grim.
Queen Ilyana's sharp, icy eyes gleamed beneath her jeweled headpiece.
And to their right—Crown Prince Corven Dareth.
Her ex-fiancé.
He wore gold and navy. His dark hair slicked back. His eyes were storm-gray. So much like hers. The moment their gazes locked, silence filled the hall.
Corven clenched his jaw as the Queen leaned toward him and whispered something inaudible.
"Your Highnesses. Your Majesties," Kaelith greeted evenly.
"Uninvited, as always," King Vaelric's voice rumbled. "You seem to enjoy strolling into court against your will."
"Your Majesty," she replied, "I have returned to fulfill my obligations—starting with restoring House Ravencourt, a noble lineage."
Despite her condemned status, Queen Ilyana softened—but her words cut deep. "You vanished without consent. Condemned—"
"Falsely," Kaelith interrupted, calm and composed.
"Remarkable. There's no record of a trial, so—
Corven stepped forward slowly, the tension thickening with each stride. He extended a hand toward her.
"Why come back now?" he asked. "After saying nothing for three years?"
Kaelith didn't flinch. "Because silence is not guilt. And because someone intends to tell my tale differently."
Gasps echoed through the court.
Corven's smile remained. "Careful, Kaelith. This court feeds on scandal."
"I prepared a feast," she said coldly.
After a beat, Corven looked away. "Let her speak."
Reluctantly, the royal family stepped aside. Kaelith moved forward, regal in every inch.
"I've returned," she announced, "to claim my position. As the head of House Ravencourt. And as a witness—to the rot that has seeped into this court while we lay in silks."
Murmurs rippled through the hall.
"I bring names," she continued. "My so-called treason was a fabrication—false letters, stolen seals, planted documents... treason upon treason."
Queen Ilyana rose, eyes blazing. "That is a bold accusation, girl."
Kaelith smiled icily. "Boldness is my constant companion."
"I request this court investigate Viscount Elric's ledger. And interrogate Lady Thalia Ravencourt—my cousin—whose 'timely' testimony aided my disgrace."
Whispers thickened like storm clouds. One elderly lord muttered, "Scandal is their lifeblood."
"Silence!" King Vaelric struck his staff, restoring order. "If these accusations are to be taken seriously, evidence must follow. Until then, no more talk of treason in this hall."
Kaelith bowed her head. "Willingly, Your Majesty. I have more than enough evidence."
"Restoring the house you dragged into ruin?" someone scoffed.
She turned, expression unreadable, lips curved into a mask of mascara and mirth.
"I mean... no," she said, flipping her hair with sharp elegance. "I simply returned to finish what I started.
Outside, in the shadowed corridor, Theron was waiting.
"You've poked a sleeping dragon," he warned.
"I've barely scratched the surface," she replied.
He handed her a sealed letter. "From our informant in the kitchens. The Young Master is holding secret meetings—with Lady Velianne of House Dareth."
Kaelith took the letter, eyes narrowing. "And her?"
"She's loyal to the Queen. Eager to take your place. It's al
l but sealed."
Kaelith's gaze blazed with fury, a fire now fully lit.
"Then she will be my first target."