My enemies were getting better at hiding.
That was the most unsettling realization as I stared at the second coded message slipped beneath my door in two days. This one was tucked inside a sprig of nightbarrow blossom—a flower used in mourning rituals.
A threat, thinly veiled.
The ink read:
> "Even stars fall, my lady. Make peace with the dark."
I crushed the note in one hand and let the flower burn slowly in the hearth, its petals curling into ash like wings folding in defeat.
Someone was watching me. Someone close.
I scanned the room for signs—scuffed floors, disturbed curtains, unlit candles I knew I'd lit this morning. My chambers had always been sacred territory for the old Seraphina. She never trusted maids, never let guards in unsupervised. But somewhere in the transition between her and me, a crack had opened.
And someone had stepped through.
---
By midmorning, I'd replaced two staff members under the guise of noble scandal and requested all correspondence to be filtered through Dahlia alone. I couldn't afford a leak. Not now—not when Kael was beginning to notice.
He wasn't a fool. He'd seen the way I moved at the banquet, how I'd avoided the exact disaster the court was waiting for. The Seraphina he knew would've raged, clawed, or fainted into his arms.
I did none of those things.
Instead, I delivered biting wit and walked out intact.
The prince had eyes on me. I could feel them. More curious than hostile now—but curiosity often bred scrutiny. I needed to be ahead of both.
---
I was just finishing a coded entry in my diary (Note: Scratch spotted Lord Asch speaking to the High Cardinal's aide last night) when a knock interrupted me.
Dahlia entered, followed by one of the palace's more timid footmen.
"My lady," the boy stammered, "the Lady Elira has requested a private audience. She says… she says she wishes to speak without guards or chaperones."
I froze.
In the novel, this never happened. Elira was kind, but sheltered. She played her role so well she never questioned anything until the very end. Her reaching out to Seraphina—especially like this—was uncharted territory.
"Did she say why?"
The footman shook his head. "Only that it's urgent."
I dismissed him and turned to Dahlia. "Prepare a neutral room. The old conservatory. One entrance. No windows large enough to hide behind. Leave us—but stand by just outside the door."
"Understood."
I stared at my reflection in the gilded mirror as she left. The face that stared back was pale, flawless, and carved like stone. So much of Seraphina's beauty was armor, painted and polished to intimidate.
Now, I needed something softer.
I dabbed away the sharp rouge, let down a few curls, and replaced my corseted bodice with a simpler day gown. Still elegant—but far less imposing.
Let Elira see a human being, not a mask.
---
The conservatory was still and dust-fragrant when I arrived. Lady Elira was already there, seated on the edge of a marble bench, her hands clasped in her lap like a hymn.
She stood when I entered.
"Lady Vale," she said quietly, "thank you for coming."
"Of course." I walked slowly, keeping my tone gentle. "What can I do for you?"
She hesitated. "I… I owe you an apology."
That stopped me.
Elira looked up, eyes shimmering with guilt. "At the banquet, I thought—I believed what everyone said about you. That you'd try to hurt me. That you wanted to. But then you switched the glasses. You protected me."
I said nothing.
She took a deep breath. "I've been thinking. About how quick everyone was to expect the worst of you. About how I've never actually spoken to you alone until now."
She glanced away. "I feel foolish. And ashamed."
The sincerity in her voice was unnerving. Pure, unguarded sincerity in this court was rare enough to feel dangerous.
"You're not the only one who's been misled," I said gently. "There are stories told about me—some true, some twisted. Most convenient for others."
Elira looked at me then, really looked. "Then why do you play the part?"
Because if I didn't, they'd rip me apart before I could rewrite the end.
But I only said, "Because sometimes surviving requires playing the villain—until the real enemy steps forward."
She nodded slowly. "Then I'd like to help."
I blinked. "Help?"
She nodded again. "I can't pretend to know much about politics or curses or anything you face, but… I can listen. I can speak to those who matter. I have the queen's ear."
I searched her expression for guile. For games. But all I saw was a girl desperate to make something right in a world built to keep her harmless.
And maybe, just maybe… a potential ally.
"Then I'll be honest with you, Lady Elira," I said. "This kingdom is not what it pretends to be. And if you want to help, you'll need to see the shadows behind the stained glass."
She met my gaze. "I'm ready."
---
As I left the conservatory, I felt a shift in the air around me.
The story was changing.
And this time, the heroine had chosen to walk into the dark—with me.
---------------------------------------------------