It was long past midnight when Aster and Astra were finally returned to their mother.
The palace courtyard, once filled with celebration, now felt hollow and cold. Lanterns flickered weakly as Arlienne held her children tightly, refusing to let go even for a moment.
Aster slept deeply, his breathing uneven but steady.
Astra lay limp against her chest, still unconscious from the lingering effects of the sleeping gas.
They were alive.
That alone was enough to keep Arlienne standing.
But her heart was far from at peace.
She knew.
She *felt* it.
Her eyes drifted briefly—just once—toward the palace hall, where Queen Lura stood surrounded by attendants, her expression carefully neutral.
Arlienne doubted her.
Deeply.
But doubt was not proof.
And accusing the **queen of a nation** without evidence would not only fail—it would endanger her children even more.
So Arlienne said nothing.
She lowered her gaze.
She stayed silent.
And that silence burned.
***
When news arrived that the kidnappers had taken their own lives using poison capsules hidden in their mouths, the palace buzzed with shock.
"They killed themselves…?"
"Professional operatives…"
"Then who ordered this?"
Whispers spread through the corridors like poison itself.
Queen Lura heard the news from a servant.
She stiffened for a split second.
Then relaxed.
No witnesses.
No confessions.
No trail leading back to her.
Relief washed through her like a bitter balm.
She composed herself immediately.
"A tragic incident," she said coolly. "We are fortunate the children survived."
Inside, her heartbeat finally slowed.
***
King Aldren, however, was not relieved.
He stood alone in his private chamber, hands gripping the edge of his desk so tightly his knuckles whitened.
"Inside the palace…" he muttered. "Inside my protection…"
Duke Leon Kingscrown stood before him, silent but unwavering.
"This was no random act, Your Majesty," Leon said firmly. "Someone with influence arranged this. Someone who knew the palace's routines."
Aldren closed his eyes.
"I swear," he said hoarsely, "I will find who is responsible. No matter who they are."
Leon bowed once.
"I will assist however I can."
***
Arlienne refused the palace's offer to rest.
She wanted to go home.
Back to Snowflake Mansion.
Back to safety.
Back to the place where her children belonged.
Lea Kingscrown approached quietly as preparations were made.
"Lady Arlienne," she said hesitantly, "may I… come with you?"
Arlienne looked down at the girl.
Lea's eyes were filled with worry and guilt.
"I want to make sure they're okay," Lea added softly.
Leon nodded from behind her. "If you permit it. She won't be a burden."
Arlienne managed a small smile.
"…Thank you."
So Lea rode with them.
The journey back was quiet.
No one spoke.
The capital slept, unaware of how close it had come to tragedy.
***
When they arrived at Snowflake Mansion, the gates were already closed.
The lanterns had been extinguished.
The guests who came for Arlienne's birthday had all gone home, unaware of what had unfolded after they left.
The celebration was over.
The joy was gone.
Inside the mansion, servants hurried to prepare rooms.
Aster and Astra were placed gently into their beds, physicians summoned immediately.
Arlienne sat beside them, holding their hands, watching their chests rise and fall.
She did not sleep.
Not even for a moment.
Lea sat quietly in the corner, eyes red, refusing to leave.
"This birthday…" Arlienne whispered faintly.
She glanced at the calendar on the wall.
Thirty-five.
Her thirty-fifth birthday.
A day that began with laughter and music.
And ended with terror, bloodless violence, and the realization that the palace would never stop reaching for her children.
It was a birthday she would never forget.
Not for joy.
But for the lesson it taught her.
***
Slowly—
Very slowly—
The night passed.
Candles burned low.
The mansion remained silent.
And then—
Morning came.
Soft sunlight crept through the windows.
Birds began to sing.
A new day arrived.
But nothing felt new.
Because somewhere in the palace—
Truth was being buried.
And somewhere in the shadows—
The consequences of last night were only beginning.