Back in Willow, the sun was beginning its descent behind the hills, painting the sky in hues of gold and lavender. The trees swayed gently in the evening breeze, their shadows dancing across the cobblestone paths of the quiet village.
The soft creak of wooden wheels filled the air as the carriage pulled into the familiar path in front of the Hartley cottage.
Rosaline stepped down first, stretching her back with a groan as her boots touched the earth. The long ride had done a number on her spine, but the sight of home instantly eased the tension from her body.
In the small herb garden beside the house, Mrs. Hartley was bent over her thyme and mint, watering the plants with a clay jug.
At the sound of the carriage, she looked up...and her eyes lit up with warmth and relief.
"Welcome home, my love!" she called, wiping her hands on her apron before hurrying toward her daughter.
Rosaline barely managed a smile before collapsing into her mother's arms, sighing deeply into her shoulder.
"It's done," she murmured, her voice heavy with the exhaustion of the journey.....but also something deeper. Something less easy to name.
Mrs. Hartley pulled back just enough to look into her daughter's face. Her eyes, always perceptive, scanned the girl she'd raised.
"And you?" she asked softly.
Rosaline met her gaze, eyes tired but calm. "Getting there," she said simply.
Behind them, Ciara tumbled out of the carriage with a theatrical groan, dragging her travel bag behind her like a prisoner's chain.
"I swear," she grumbled, "if I have to look at Lysandra Drake's face one more time, I'll scream loud enough to wake the moon goddess herself."
Mrs. Hartley laughed, shaking her head. "Well, lucky for you, you're home now."
"Yes!" Ciara exclaimed, spinning once on her heel. "I'm happy and feel lucky at the same time."
They all chuckled at her dramatics, the sound lightening the air like the scent of lavender. For a brief moment, everything felt normal again.
But normal wouldn't last long.
Meanwhile, in the Silverthrone Castle...
The walls of the Silverthrone Castle were tall, cold, and stifling. Once a symbol of grace and power to lady Seraphina Macmillan, they now felt more like a gilded cage.
She walked through the marble corridors with practiced grace, her silk gown whispering against the floor, but her heart was in turmoil.
When she first arrived at the castle, Darius had treated her with civility....even kindness. He hadn't been overly affectionate, but he had at least acknowledged her presence, joined her for meals when time allowed, and spoken to her with respect.
But now?
Now he was a different man entirely.
It was as if someone had flipped a switch in him. He barely looked at her anymore, and when he did, his eyes were hollow.....haunted.
He had become short-tempered, moody, and distant. The palace staff walked on eggshells around him, whispering behind closed doors but never daring to speak aloud.
Seraphina had written to her mother in distress, hoping Lady Arabella Macmillan, high-standing member of the Council, would offer insight or even comfort.
But when Arabella arrived at the castle two days ago, she brought no words of comfort.
"Whatever it is, hold your ground," she'd said with her ever-cold expression. "You are to be queen. I will see to it. Darius is simply... distracted. You must remind him of your place. Our family's power is rooted in yours now."
That had been it.
No questions about how Seraphina felt. No support. Just pressure to hold her position.
Now, with the king's birthday only five days away, the castle was bustling. Some guests had already arrived...those from far-off territories....and the remainder would arrive soon.
The grand ball would be her moment. The day she'd been waiting for.
Darius would introduce her as his chosen mate before all of Silvervale, silencing any whispers of doubt. She would stand beside him as the future queen.
Everything had to be perfect.
She had just finished overseeing the final floral arrangements and was strolling down one of the grand corridors when she nearly collided with someone at the corner.
"My lady," a familiar voice greeted.
Seraphina blinked and found herself face-to-face with the king's cousin.
Lord Theodore Roosevelt.
Son of Lady Helen.
His dark hair was slightly tousled, and there was a mischievous glint in his eyes that made her instinctively wary.
Rumors had it that he and Darius rarely saw eye to eye. There was talk of old tension between them...something to do with power, though no one dared speak of it openly.
"Lord Theodore," she acknowledged with a polite smile, curtsying just enough to show courtesy.
Soon, she reminded herself, she wouldn't need to curtsy to anyone ever again.
"You're doing an excellent job managing the preparations for the birthday ball," he said, watching her with a strange smile.
"You'd make a fine queen... if given the chance."
Seraphina's expression tightened. The implication in his words didn't go unnoticed.
"I had to do it perfectly," she replied, raising her chin. "As the future queen of Silvervale, no errors can be tolerated."
"Of course," Theodore said, his tone almost mocking. "Though I wasn't aware it had already been decided."
She narrowed her eyes. "Everyone in the castle knows of it."
"But I didn't," he said with a slight shrug, clearly enjoying her irritation.
"Then again... nothing is final until it's official. Who knows? Perhaps the day before the coronation, another may appear to challenge your place."
There it was....that irritating smile. The one that always made her want to slap him.
He was trying to provoke her. She knew his kind. Sharp-tongued men who hid daggers behind their charming words. He had a reputation for enjoying mind games, and it appeared she was now his latest target.
"The king's word is final," she said, her voice cold. "And no one would dare challenge my place beside him."
"Oh? Is that what you think, my lady?" he said, taking a step closer, his tone like silk....but poisoned silk.
"You might be surprised. Sometimes, fate has a way of turning everything upside down... especially when you least expect it."
She clenched her jaw. "If you're trying to unsettle me, Lord Theodore, you'll find I'm not so easily shaken."
"Oh, I'm not trying," he said with a wink. "But if I were, I'd say I'm doing quite well already."
With that, he walked past her, whistling to himself as he disappeared down the corridor.
Seraphina stood there, nails digging into her palm. Her heart thudded in her chest, not with fear...but with fury.
She was not going to let anyone....least of all Theodore Roosevelt....make her question what she had worked so hard to secure.
She was going to be queen.
No one would stand in her way.