The war chamber smelled faintly of steel and smoke — the ghost of battles fought long before Evelina's birth. A map of the kingdom stretched across the vast oak table, candlelight pooling in golden halos over its surface. Little markers — some carved into the shape of lions, others into serpents — were scattered across the board, representing armies, factions, and the intricate dance of loyalty and treachery that plagued the court.
Evelina stood at the far end of the table, her gloved hands resting lightly on the wood. To anyone watching, she looked like the dutiful princess-in-waiting: calm, quiet, and attentive. But her mind was moving fast — dissecting every word spoken, every flicker of expression, every shift in stance from the nobles around her.
They were discussing border unrest. At least, that's what they claimed. Evelina knew better. These men weren't gathered here out of loyalty to the crown; they were here to measure who among them could be bent, bought, or broken.
King Edric's voice cut through the low hum of debate. "The southern garrisons have sent word — the rebels have secured two more fortresses along the River Veyran. We cannot let them control the waterway."
"And yet," said Lord Varrick, the serpent carved into human flesh, "our forces are spread too thin. We can't win three wars at once, Your Majesty. The northern border, the southern rebellion, and…" His eyes slid toward Evelina. "…internal matters."
A ripple of tension moved through the room. Evelina kept her face still, her breath steady, but her heartbeat quickened. "If you're implying something, my lord," she said softly, "you'd best speak it plainly. Shadows have a way of twisting the truth."
Varrick smiled thinly. "Only a fool casts accusations without proof. I merely meant that the palace must be united before we waste lives on distant conflicts."
United. Evelina heard what he truly meant: controlled. And if not controlled, then eliminated.
She leaned back slightly, allowing her voice to dip into that dangerous calm she had learned from her mother. "I agree, Lord Varrick. The palace must be united. Which is why those who whisper in corridors should take care — their words may echo in the wrong ears."
The subtle warning hit its mark. Varrick's jaw tightened, and King Edric looked between them sharply. Before he could speak, the doors to the chamber swung open.
A young palace courier stepped in, bowing low. "For Lady Evelina." He extended a folded slip of parchment sealed with red wax. The seal was unfamiliar to the others, but Evelina recognized it instantly — a crest she had seen only once before, hidden in the back of her mother's journals: a silver crown pierced by a black dagger.
She took the message, careful not to betray any recognition. "If you'll excuse me, Your Majesty," she murmured.
King Edric gave a short nod, though his eyes followed her as she slipped from the chamber.
---
In the quiet of her private chambers, Evelina broke the seal and read quickly.
> Your blood is the key. The throne you see is not the throne that was taken. The truth lies in the vault beneath the first king's tomb. But beware — the snake knows your name.
Her hands trembled slightly as she folded the note again. She had no doubt who "the snake" referred to — Varrick. But the rest… the vault beneath the first king's tomb? She had heard tales of hidden treasures and secret rooms in the royal crypt, but if her blood was the key… then this was no myth. This was a secret worth killing for.
---
By nightfall, the palace had transformed.
The grand ballroom glittered under thousands of candles, their light bouncing off golden chandeliers and the polished marble floor. Music drifted from a string quartet in the corner, mingling with the murmur of noble voices and the occasional burst of laughter that sounded far too loud for sincerity.
Evelina entered wearing a gown of midnight blue velvet that shimmered when she moved. A thin silver crown rested against her hair, just enough to command attention but not enough to challenge the queen's authority. She could feel eyes on her — some admiring, some calculating, some hostile.
Adrian stood by the far pillar, dressed in deep black trimmed with silver. Their gazes met, and for a moment the rest of the room faded. He crossed to her swiftly.
"You shouldn't be alone tonight," he murmured, leaning close enough that only she could hear. "Varrick has been speaking to the Queen Mother. He's planting seeds."
"I've dealt with worse than seeds," Evelina replied lightly. But she didn't dismiss his warning. She knew Varrick was bold enough to make a move in public — perhaps because the king was here.
They moved together through the crowd, their conversation appearing casual to any onlooker. But their eyes were scanning, reading the shifting alliances around them.
---
The challenge came without warning.
Lord Varrick raised his goblet, the golden wine within catching the candlelight. "Your Majesty," he called, addressing King Edric, "may I speak before the court?"
The music slowed, the quartet sensing the tension. Edric gestured for him to continue.
"My king," Varrick said, his voice carrying through the room, "we live in dangerous times. And yet, some among us — those who claim loyalty — may have blood ties to… enemies of the crown."
Gasps scattered through the room. Evelina felt the shift in the air, the tightening of attention on her.
"Speak plainly, Varrick," Edric said sharply.
Varrick's gaze locked on Evelina. "I speak of those whose lineage is… obscured. Who cannot prove their right to stand among us."
The accusation hung heavy. Evelina's pulse thundered in her ears, but she stepped forward before Edric could speak. "You speak of obscured lineages, my lord. And yet, history tells us that even the most noble houses are built on shadows. Shall we examine your bloodline next?"
A murmur ran through the crowd. Varrick's lips curled, but he did not answer.
King Edric, his expression unreadable, lifted his goblet. "Enough. This is neither the time nor place for such accusations."
The music resumed, but the damage was done. Evelina had just been publicly marked as someone to watch — and perhaps to destroy.
---
Later, as the night wound down, Evelina slipped into the royal gardens for air. Moonlight spilled over the white marble statues and the roses blooming in midnight colors.
She sensed him before she saw him — a shadow moving between the hedges.
A masked figure stepped into the moonlight, clad in dark leather, the mask covering his face save for sharp, cold eyes. "You carry yourself well, Evelina," he said, his voice low and rough. "Just like your mother."
Every muscle in her body went rigid. "Who are you?" she demanded.
The man tilted his head. "The better question is — who are you really?"
Before she could reply, he took a step closer, his voice dropping to a whisper.
"Princess Selene."
The name struck her like a blade. It was the name her mother had used in the letters Evelina had never dared to show anyone. A name no one in this palace should know.
Her mouth opened, but the man raised a gloved finger to silence her. "They will come for you soon. And when they do, you must choose — the crown… or your life."
With that, he stepped back into the shadows and was gone, leaving Evelina alone with the echo of a name that could change everything.