The court was reeling.
As a whispering gale followed her every footfall in the palace, Kaelith was the center of attention. The courtiers gawked at her from behind their fans and wine glasses like cats waiting to pounce on unsuspecting prey. Opinions abounded. Some now marvel at how brave she is, while others call her simply dangerous. But all could agree she left an impression:
Kaelith Ravencourt had returned.
Her eyes focused ahead to the open double doors as she strode into the palace, a magnificent gown of midnight blue threaded with silver ravens taking her silhouette to an entirely different level. She captivated everyone even in silence.
Walking next to her was Theron clad in guard's attire, mask hiding a smile at her elegance. Absolutely frowning and yet undividedly focused at the same time.
"You're enjoying this," he said under his breath.
"I'm reclaiming what's mine."
"The Queen Regent has summoned you," he slipped back into professional mode, "for a private audience. Tonight."
"Let her wait," Kaelith replied as the doors of the palace swung open, a confident smile plastered on on her lips. The second she stepped in, she truly felt like a queen in control. "A queen should know how patience tastes."
Her suspicion was confirmed with the set time. The Queen Regent's private garden glowed with an array of not just lights, but flowers. Each somehow unnaturally large under the influence of rare moon dust.
With a nod of her head, she entered the large hall. Kaelith's face entirely unreadable.
The Queen appeared next to a marble fountain, where she was nourishing her feathered companion-- a pure white falcon-- with slices of pear. She did not turn.
"You stir quite the commotion, Lady Ravencourt," she said with a smile. "And yet, you meander through these halls as though every soul has forgotten your trial."
"Remembrance is a capricious word," Kaelith answered. "It bends when power is restored."
Finally, Velis deigned to look at her, glass sharp eyes piercing into her.
"You disgracefully charged an upper-class woman in the midst of court. Do you intend to adapt the aristocracy to a single blot scandal at a time?"
"Only those who hath constructed their thrones upon my grave," Kaelith replied in a whisper.
The Queen smiled.
"My sweet, careful now. Kings are not the only folk who burn."
"Ah, and queens are not the only ones who can be usurped," Kaelith replied smartly.
Silence stretched between them like taut wire.
Acerbic and soft, she scoffed.
"Oh, I like you. You make this game all the more exciting."
"In that case, I came to play," Kaelith said while nodding her head.
As the meeting concluded, Kaelith escorted herself back to her chamber. On her pillow rested a folded note sealed in wax, missing the Ravencourt crest but instead donning the emblem of the royal archives.
"Come at once. I have found the ledger."
--- Archivist D
Her breath caught in her throat.
The ledger.
The sole evidence of the domineering destruction of the Ravencourt estate and the profit siphoned off by the crown after her husband's death under suspicious circumstances. Proof of royal corruption.
She didn't wait.
The archives lay concealed beneath the palace. Stone walls, locked doors, guarded knowledge, secrets shrouded in dust.
Dust and Secrets filled the air.
Cloaked fully, hood pulled low, Kaelith arrived. An old man with ink stained hands was the archivist. Meeting her in the corridor she asked,
"You said you found it?" In a whisper, none the less.
He nodded, peering over his shoulder.
"Someone didn't just hide it – they rewrote history. Buried behind false entries. Three to be exact."
A single leather bound book was kept on the table in a back muted room. He led her to that dimly lit room.
Fingers trembling, Kaelith opened it.
Transfers, Accounts, Titles.
A day before his death – it all abruptly came to a halt.
Subsequent reallocations came right after.
To the crown…
Queen Regent Velis Dareth signed.
Kaelith's heart thudded in her chest, louder than ever.
"He said those were acts of treason."
But be careful … you won't withstand losing pieces without paying for it.
"Dare, the queen," said the archivist.
Gazed and met his gaze, she whispered.
"In that case, I'll need to win."
She made her way to the door.
Then halted.
The torches had been switched off.
The guard outside… had vanished.
She could sense movement behind her, too quick to be coincidental.
Then
A knife missed her by mere inches and slashed through the air, embedding itself in the doorframe.
She spun—
And met head-on with an assassin covered in a mask.