"Not that shade of ribbon, Elna. Are you trying to make me look like a butcher's daughter?"
Lysandra Drake's sharp voice cut through the room like a blade. She stood before the full-length mirror, arms crossed beneath her chest, her brows pinched in visible irritation as her maid scurried to replace the pale gold ribbon with the pearl one she'd approved days ago.
"I...I'm sorry, my lady. I thought....."
"Don't," Lysandra said, her voice clipped. "That's the problem. You thought."
She turned slightly, admiring the way the lilac silk hugged her curves. Rosaline's handiwork was, admittedly, better than expected.
The girl was talented...though peasant-born and annoyingly soft-spoken. Still, Lysandra had to admit the gown was nearly perfect.
Nearly.
"I told her to bring out the color of my eyes more," she muttered, inspecting the delicate embroidery along the sleeves.
"This thread is silver. I said platinum. It matters."
Lady Mica Drake stepped into the room just then, her eyes sweeping her daughter from head to toe.
"You look ravishing, Lysandra. Calm your fire. Even the king himself won't be able to look away."
Lysandra turned from the mirror, her expression brightening slightly. "Do you really think so, Mother?"
Lady Mica nodded, walking forward to smooth the fabric near her daughter's waist.
"There's not a soul in the empire who doesn't know how beautiful you are. And now that you'll be at the king's birthday ball in this gown… well, Seraphina McMillan won't stand a chance."
Lysandra's eyes darkened at the mention of the other woman.
"She's already moved into the castle," Lady Mica added, watching her daughter's expression with careful interest. "They say she's been planning the celebration. Acting like the queen already."
Lysandra scoffed, stepping back toward the mirror. "Queen? She's a McMillan, not royalty. She's a well-decorated ornament....beautiful but hollow."
"Elna, are the gloves packed?" she asked suddenly.
"Yes, my lady. With your perfume and hairpins," the maid replied, eyes still cast downward.
"Good. And my second pair of shoes....the glass-studded ones?"
"Also packed."
Lysandra exhaled and turned back to her mother. "She thinks because the king named her his chosen mate that she's won. But she hasn't even been marked. No mating bond. No public claim."
Lady Mica smiled slowly. "Then you still have a chance to change his mind."
"I will," Lysandra said, her voice steel beneath silk. "I don't need the moon to choose me. I will make the king choose me himself."
Her mother looked proud. "That's my girl."
There was a brief knock on the door. A guard stepped in, bowing slightly. "Lady Lysandra, your carriage is ready. Your escort is assembled and awaiting your command."
She glanced one more time in the mirror and smirked.
"Let them wait."
********
The sun had just begun its slow descent as Lysandra stepped out onto the steps of the Drake estate. The courtyard was alive with quiet bustle....guards standing at attention, maids loading the last of her belongings, and horses snorting softly in their bridles.
A polished royal-blue carriage, trimmed in gold leaf, stood ready at the center. Her family crest....a coiled snake wrapped around a crescent moon...gleamed on the doors.
Lysandra descended the steps with the practiced grace of a queen, her lavender cloak billowing behind her, her gloved fingers curled lightly around her reticule.
Elna and another maid walked a step behind her, heads bowed.
Lady Mica followed last, stopping at the bottom of the steps to give her daughter one final once-over.
"Remember," she said softly, stepping close. "Smile when necessary. Listen more than you speak. And above all, make yourself unforgettable."
"I plan to," Lysandra replied, eyes narrowing with determination. "I'll outshine every woman at that ball."
Her mother leaned in and kissed her cheek.
"I know you will." Your father and I will arrive later, we wanted you to be at the center of attention, so bask in it my darling ".
Lysandra gave a regal nod, then swept into the carriage with a practiced flick of her skirts.
Once inside, she settled back against the velvet seat, fingers drumming against the armrest.
The moment the doors shut, Elna slipped inside with her, clutching a small case.
"Is everything prepared?" Lysandra asked, without glancing up.
"Yes, my lady. I have the accessories for your hair, your second fan, and...." she hesitated, "the gift for the king."
Lysandra's lips curved.
"Good girl," she said, accepting the small, velvet-wrapped box.
She opened it briefly and inspected the contents: a rare obsidian brooch with the crest of Silvervale etched in gold....a collector's piece, one that once belonged to her great-grandfather.
"He'll appreciate this," she murmured. "It speaks power without desperation. Just the right touch of nobility."
Elna nodded silently.
The carriage lurched forward as the horses began the journey to the capital.
Lysandra gazed out the window, watching the landscape blur past....rolling hills, scattered pines, and the occasional village fading into distance. A faint smile tugged at her lips.
"How long until we arrive?" she asked, not looking away from the window.
"A few hours, my lady," Elna replied. "We should reach the palace before moonrise."
Lysandra hummed softly. "Good. I want the moonlight on me when I arrive. Let the stars themselves witness what's coming."
Elna said nothing, but the tension in the carriage shifted.
Lysandra glanced at her sideways. "You're trembling. Why?"
The maid looked up, startled. "I....I'm not, my lady."
"You are," Lysandra said coolly. "You're worried about something."
Elna hesitated, then spoke hesitantly. "It's only that… the people say the king's chosen someone already. They speak of Lady Seraphina… as if it's all been decided."
Lysandra's jaw tightened. Her expression didn't change, but her voice was quiet when she responded.
"Nothing is decided until the mark is made. And even then, kings have been known to change their minds."
She turned back toward the window. "Let the court talk. Let Seraphina bask in her temporary glow. I will arrive, and I will eclipse her."
There was silence for several heartbeats.
Then Lysandra added, almost as an afterthought: "Besides… something tells me she's not the one he's thinking about."
Elna looked up, confused. "What do you mean, my lady?"
But Lysandra only smiled faintly and closed her eyes, leaning back against the plush seat.
The wind picked up outside, carrying with it the distant scent of pines and wildflowers. The road to the Silverthrone Palace stretched ahead like a promise.....and a battlefield.
One Lysandra Drake had every intention of winning.