Sleep became something Selene no longer trusted.
Too much silence meant danger.
Too much calm meant something was waiting.
So she followed instinct instead.
And instinct led her straight into the truth.
The corridor was dim, hidden from the main halls. Selene moved quietly, her steps careful, controlled.
Ahead, a door opened.
Lady Virelle slipped inside.
Selene waited only a second before moving closer, keeping to the shadows.
Voices filtered through the crack.
"You failed," Virelle said sharply.
"I didn't fail," a male voice replied. "She survived."
Selene's breath stilled.
That voice.
The man from the road.
"The next attempt will not miss," he added.
Selene's fingers tightened slightly at her side.
So it was true.
The attack hadn't been random.
It had been planned.
From inside the palace.
Virelle exhaled in frustration. "Then finish it before the wedding. Once she's crowned, it becomes harder."
Wedding.
Crowned.
So that was the real goal.
Not just to kill her—
But to stop her from gaining power.
Selene stepped back silently, her mind already moving ahead.
This was bigger than insult.
Bigger than rivalry.
This was strategy.
And now she understood her place in it.
Not a bride.
A threat.
Back in her chambers, Elira looked at her anxiously. "What did you find?"
Selene removed her gloves slowly, her expression unreadable.
"The truth," she said.
A pause.
"They tried to kill me before I arrived."
Elira's face paled. "Who?"
Selene's gaze hardened slightly.
"Someone who believes I won't survive long enough to matter."
She turned toward the window, her reflection staring back at her.
Calm.
Sharp.
Unshaken.
"They're wrong."
Her voice dropped, quieter now—but far more dangerous.
"I'm not here to survive."
A faint, cold smile touched her lips.
"I'm here to win."