The palace rose out of the mist like a dream half-forgotten—its towers carved from the dark stone that shimmered green under the moonlight, Lanterns floated mid-air along the grand bridge, each flame suspended in a glass orb that pulsed like a heartbeat.
Vivian stepped out of the carriage, her hand slipping into Lily's. The silence around them was unnerving. No music, no laughter. Just the soft hum of magic in the air. A steward in a deep silver cloak bowed low. "Ladies of Hart," he said, voice smooth and echoing, "His Majesty welcomes you."
They were led through towering gates, down a long corridor where the walls rippled like water and the portraits seemed to watch.
"Do you feel that?" Lily whispered.
"Yes," Vivian said. "We're being sized up"
The ballroom, in contrast, exploded with color and light.
Crystal chandeliers hovered in midair, casting rainbows across the floor. Walls of polished obsidian reflected the guest—nobles in gowns of gold and crimson, strange figures in feathered mask, and dancers who moved like sikl through smoke.
Lily clutched her skirt. "This is… more than I imagined."
Vivian's eyes swept the room. It was beautiful. But it was so carefully staged like a play.
And somewhere behind the curtain the director was watching.
At the far end of the hall, a raised dais cradled throne of shadowglass.
Empty.
Until it wasn't.
A hush fell as the kin entered—not with fanfare, but like a slow eclipse. His presence rippled through the room like wind bending trees. Tall, broad shouldered, cloaked in midnight, with a crown of green thorns resting lightly on black hair.
But it was his eyes that found her.
Emerald.
Alive.
Burning.
Vivian stiffened. Her gown, a near mirror to the color of his gaze, suddenly felt too noticeable. She looked away first, jaw tightening. Lily was already drifting towards the dance floor, laughing as a courtier bowed and took her hand.
Vivian remained at the edge of the room, one hand curled around a goblet of sparkling wine she hadn't sipped.
She could fee him watching her.
Later, the orchestra played a lilting waltz, she turned to leave—but found him standing directly behind her.
The shadow king.
He did not bow.
He didn't smile.
"You look misplaced," he said, voice low.
"I feel misplaced," she replied, not looking at him.
"I like it."
She met his eyes then. "Do you always make your guest feel like prey?"
He stepped closer. "Only the interesting ones."
Vivian's heartbeat quickened, but her voice remained the steady. "I'm not here to be interesting."
"No." he said, tilting his head. "you're here because something calls to you. Something ancient.'
She narrowed her eyes. "you don't know anything about me"
"I know enough," he murmured. "Enough to see what you're hiding. And what you could become.
Vivian stepped back, eyes cold. "Enjoy your party, your Majesty.
And she turned, emerald skirts swirling, leaving him behind.
From the shadows above, unseen eyes continued to watch.
"She resists him," whispered a cloaked figure on the balcony.
"She intrigues him," answered another. "It has begun."