The night wind slipped through the cracks of the window, bringing with it a sickly-sweet scent of blossoms—
as if trying to smother the rotting history buried within the palace walls.
In her new chamber, Aurelia Vaelthorn stood by the window, staring down at the garden of black roses her mother once tended.
The flowers still bloomed defiantly,
like blood that refused to stop growing.
"This palace hasn't changed. Only the skins it wears."
Her fingers brushed the worn locket that once belonged to her mother—
the one piece of her past that had survived the cruel exile.
A soft knock echoed at the door.
"Come in," Aurelia said without turning.
Caelum Thorne stepped inside with quiet precision.
His formal uniform immaculate, his presence as steady as obsidian.
"Lady Vaelthorn," he said, bowing slightly. "The banquet begins in twenty minutes. I was ordered to escort you."
Aurelia glanced at him through the mirror, a faint smile curving her lips.
"Escort? Or to ensure I don't vanish?"
"I wasn't told the reason," Caelum replied flatly.
"And you didn't ask?"
"I find what I see far more valuable than what they say."
Their eyes met through the mirror—
a silent clash, sharper than any spoken word.
Aurelia rose to her feet, her black-and-gold gown flowing behind her like a shadow licking the edge of fire.
"Then let's go," she said. "I'm curious to see how many snakes were invited tonight."
—
The grand banquet hall shimmered with crystal chandeliers and the clink of wine glasses.
The air was thick with aged wine, dried petals, and tension.
As Aurelia stepped in, the conversations stilled.
All eyes turned toward her—
the traitor princess reborn from ashes.
At the far end stood Crown Prince Serion Aldrecht, silver hair groomed to perfection, his smile polished like a freshly drawn blade.
"Aurelia," he greeted, voice smooth as silk.
"You've always known how to steal the spotlight."
"The stage, Your Highness," she replied with meaning, "was always yours. I don't recall volunteering as part of the circus."
A few nobles laughed—uneasy, thin laughter that couldn't mask the shifting undercurrent in the room.
Serion chuckled lightly, approaching with confident steps.
"Come. Sit beside me tonight. The court is eager to see the phoenix who rose from her own pyre."
Aurelia remained still.
"I'd rather stand among them. Listen. Watch. Judge."
"And if they judge you as well?" Serion asked, lifting his glass.
"They already sentenced me when I was fifteen," she said coldly. "I no longer fear verdicts from courts that never sought truth."
The banquet began. Amidst the music of harps and the clinking of silverware, the court buzzed with veiled schemes and sweetened malice.
Lady Calisia, a young noblewoman clad in silver, approached with a syrupy smile.
"Lady Vaelthorn," she said. "What an… interesting choice of colors tonight."
Aurelia tilted her head slightly, eyeing her own gown.
"I bring mourning and vengeance. What better colors than black and gold?"
Calisia laughed, though her eyes narrowed.
"You haven't changed."
"And you've changed too often. Tonight's mask suits you almost too well."
A few nobles stifled nervous laughter.
Calisia's smile faltered, color draining from her cheeks.
At the edge of the hall, Caelum stood at silent attention, eyes never straying far from Aurelia.
A younger soldier leaned close to whisper,
"She's terrifying, isn't she? I thought she'd be begging to return."
Caelum didn't blink.
"She didn't come to beg," he said.
"She came to remind them she's still breathing."
—
The night reached its climax with an unexpected toast.
Serion rose, raising his glass high.
"To new peace. And to the Vaelthorn family… returned to the arms of the crown."
Aurelia lifted her own glass, her sapphire eyes gleaming like ice across the distance.
"To the future," she said.
"And to old truths, finally dragged into the light."
—
Later that night, as silence reclaimed the palace, Caelum stood outside Aurelia's chamber.
"My duty ends here, Princess," he said.
Aurelia stepped into the doorway, regarding him with unreadable calm.
"You heard me tonight," she said. "Even before I said a word."
He met her gaze without hesitation.
"I've learned to read the battlefield before the first strike."
Aurelia smiled faintly.
"And what's your assessment of me… as a battlefield?"
Caelum hesitated for a moment.
"Dangerous," he said.
"Not because you wound recklessly—
but because you know exactly where to strike."