The morning of the Zeldard gathering had barely broken over the Elfred estate, yet the household buzzed with quiet intensity. In her private quarters, Darkness sat silently, awaiting Rubina's final preparations. Though outwardly still, her eyes tracked the passage of time with precision. There was much to do.
She didn't need makeup, not in the way others did. Her body could be reshaped, healed, or transformed at will. But even so, she had to learn—appearance and etiquette mattered in noble society. This wasn't about vanity, it was about control. Influence. Power in the form of polished perfection.
Outside Rubina's room, a maid stood poised with folded hands.
"Keep your eyes on her," Rubina instructed curtly, "and help her get dressed properly."
"Yes, my lady," the maid bowed, her tone respectful but wary.
Rubina didn't need much assistance—unlike Lady Royalle, whose fragile beauty demanded delicate care, or Lord Elfred, whose ceremonial armor required multiple hands to fasten. Still, the staff knew their roles. Every detail had to be flawless.
The maid left to oversee the final touches on Lady Royalle's ensemble and Lord Elfred's ornamental suit. Darkness, as always, made her own silent rounds—inspecting each room, adjusting the placement of a jewel here, a ribbon there, making sure even the temperature of the perfumes was perfect.
Everything gleamed with pristine elegance, yet Darkness's eyes missed nothing. Only after her personal inspection did she return to Rubina's chamber.
Rubina stood at the center of the room like a goddess being readied for war. Maids surrounded her in a silent flurry of brushes, powders, and scent-laced oils. Her golden hair shimmered in the sunlight, her skin glowed like freshly bloomed cherry blossoms, and her purple eyes shimmered with noble pride.
The women attending her were masters in their art. They refined her—not changed her—highlighting every angle, every curve, and every color that made her Rubina Elfred.
Darkness stepped inside, her presence shifting the entire atmosphere.
The maids paused mid-motion, sensing her unspoken command. She gave a single nod.
They bowed in sync and departed like obedient shadows, leaving Rubina alone in her silent storm of thoughts.
Startled by the sudden stillness, Rubina's eyes opened. She saw Darkness standing by the door, her posture relaxed, yet alert—watching her with calm intensity.
Darkness approached and picked up a silver comb from the vanity.
Without asking, she began styling Rubina's hair, her touch precise and controlled.
"With my power, I could transform your hair to feel like silk—or thorns," she said casually.
Rubina narrowed her eyes. "Stop speaking in riddles. If you have something to say, say it clearly. I'm not in the mood for games."
"I'm not here to play," Darkness replied, still combing. "I want you to stay away from the prince. Don't do anything that might tarnish the name of House Elfred."
It wasn't a request. It was a warning.
Rubina scoffed. "Are you threatening me? Do you know who I am?"
"You're the daughter of this house," Darkness said flatly, "and at today's party, I have complete authority over your actions. If you cause trouble, I can—and will—punish you."
The words sent a chill down Rubina's spine. Her body remembered the last time she defied Darkness. The pain. The humiliation. The sheer helplessness.
Yet, part of her still rebelled.
'The prince likes me. He supports me. He can give me power,' she thought, clinging to the idea like a lifeline.
"Second Prince Ametrine," Darkness said, as if reading her mind, "was born without the royal bloodline's power. He is prideful, foolish, and dangerously naive. Even the king knows he could destroy the kingdom."
"But the Queen supports him," Rubina argued. "He has most of the royal family behind him."
"That's the only reason he still draws breath," Darkness said, her voice suddenly sharp.
"A-ah!" Rubina flinched. The comb had caught in her hair, tugging sharply at her scalp.
"Oops," Darkness said smoothly. "My hand slipped. Let's try not to move again—you might get hurt."
Rubina glared at her, but said nothing. She understood. The message was crystal clear.
Darkness resumed combing. "Stay still," she said softly, "so you won't bleed."
---
Scene Change
Three carriages bearing the crest of House Elfred stood waiting at the estate gates, polished until they shone like obsidian under the rising sun.
The first carriage, housing Lord Elfred and Lady Royalle, was guarded by a coachman who was no ordinary servant—but a lethal assassin trained to eliminate threats mid-motion if needed.
The second carriage was for Lady Rubina, accompanied by her ever-watchful butler—Darkness.
The third, though less ornate, was arguably the most dangerous: within it sat the two strongest warriors and the two most powerful mages sworn to House Elfred. A mobile fortress in case of treachery.
Inside her carriage, Darkness studied Rubina in silence.
Rubina sat like a noble flower—radiant but edged with unseen thorns. Her velvet dress wrapped her like a second skin, emphasizing her grace and youth. Her golden hair gleamed under the carriage light, her skin smooth and unmarred, her eyes like twilight storms.
She was beautiful—undeniably so. A portrait of noble elegance. Had it not been for her misguided attachment to the prince, she could have stood among the highest ladies in court.
'She has a well-trained body, a sharp mind, and the backing of a powerful house,' Darkness thought. 'She could have had everything. Instead… she chases shadows.'
The root of Rubina's infatuation lay in twisted empathy. The prince's lack of power had once moved her to pity. That pity, over time, had grown into something deeper, something she now called love.
But Darkness knew better.
'One incident. One disappointment. That's all it will take to break the illusion. Sympathy is not love. And Rubina… Rubina is not evil. But she's naive.'
She turned to look at her once more. Rubina was gazing out the window, unaware of Darkness's quiet scrutiny.
Her hair shimmered like gold threads; her dress whispered with restrained power.
Darkness allowed herself a small, fleeting smile.
'Beautiful. And dangerous. Just like the kingdom we serve.'
The carriage wheels rolled forward, bearing them toward the grand banquet of House Zeldard—the last great gathering of noble houses under royal authority.
And possibly, the first spark of a fire yet to come.