The great hall shimmered beneath the glow of golden chandeliers, their light spilling across polished marble floors and catching on the delicate rims of crystal glasses. Murmured conversations mingled with the soft clinking of cutlery, weaving a refined but restless atmosphere.
At one side, the First Prince sat among a circle of high-ranking nobles. They leaned toward him with careful deference, smiling politely at his remarks on trade routes and military drills. His voice carried quiet authority—sharp, controlled, and calculated.
Across the hall, Lady Rubina held her own court. A ring of noblewomen surrounded her, their silks rustling, jeweled fans fluttering like exotic wings. Rubina's elegance commanded quiet admiration; her grace placed her far above idle gossip. Yet, every so often, her gaze drifted to the Prince's table—each time, she found his eyes already on her.
They both knew it: the court had splintered into small worlds, each consumed by its own affairs. A silent understanding passed between them—they needed to speak privately.
The Prince moved first, standing in one smooth motion that drew more than a few curious glances. Rubina followed, their paths converging toward a quieter corner of the hall.
But halfway there, something stopped her cold.
A faint, unnatural pulse shivered through the air. Her eyes swept the crowd—and froze. From the edge of the gathering, a shadow lingered. It was not a trick of the light but something solid, human-shaped… wrong. It clung to the edge of the hall like it did not belong to the room at all.
'That presence…' Her breath caught. 'Darkness.'
Fear coiled in her stomach. Without hesitation, she veered toward the very center of the hall, tugging the Prince along with her.
The Prince frowned. "This is not the place for a private talk—after all I've done to arrange it."
"It is now," Rubina said softly but firmly.
As they walked, she lowered her voice. "What have you done to keep Darkness from attending tonight?"
"Nothing much," came a nearby voice—the Second Prince. "I simply had a separate area prepared for the servants—except those chosen by House Zeldard."
Rubina's steps faltered. 'Do you have any idea what you've done? Can't you see who she is?'
"She's just a lucky girl," Prince Ametrine said with a dismissive smile, "a replacement for you… and now, a servant."
Rubina clenched her jaw. She wanted to shout the truth—'Darkness is watching me through her shadow… it's her ability… she can see everything I do'—but the political cost of such words held her tongue.
Curiosity eventually overcame the Prince's reluctance, and he allowed her to guide him to the exact center of the hall. Nobles adjusted their positions, murmuring as they made space. Sitting side by side, their low-voiced conversation appeared casual, yet every word was weighted with tension.
---
Drinks and refreshments began circulating once more.
"The First Prince isn't here," Rubina noted, her tone just loud enough for nearby ears.
"There was an envoy who arrived before the official meeting," Prince Ametrine said smoothly. "My father and mother have gone to meet them."
It was not a complete answer, but enough to still the immediate questions. Even so, the absence of the Emperor and Empress was not lost on anyone. House Zeldard discreetly quelled the growing whispers.
---
Then, the peace shattered.
A young maid, no more than sixteen, stepped forward with a tray of crystal goblets. Her hands trembled—whether from the weight, the pressure of serving before so many high nobles, or another fear, Rubina could not tell.
The girl approached Prince Ametrine. Her foot caught on the hem of her skirt. The tray tilted. In an instant, deep red wine splashed across the Prince's shoulder and the elaborate embroidery of his coat.
Gasps rippled through the hall. The maid froze, pale with terror.
"You—" The Prince's voice was a blade. His aura swelled, hot and dangerous. 'How dare she… here… before everyone…'
Rubina swiftly produced a small enchanted cloth, pressing it to his coat and erasing the stain in a blink. But the humiliation in his eyes burned hotter than any magic could cleanse.
He stood abruptly, power crackling around him.
"Stop!" The First Prince's command rang through the hall, but Ametrine's fury only deepened.
"She's just a child," Lord Zeldard said, stepping quickly between them.
"She has insulted me before the court," Ametrine replied coldly. "In the absence of Their Majesties, I will pass judgment myself."
Rubina rose. "This is not worth bloodshed."
He didn't even look at her. Power surged at his fingertips—"{Divine Strike}"—and the attack shot toward the maid in a blink.
"Prince, please—" Selphira rushed forward, her shield magic flaring just as the strike hit. The impact shuddered through her barrier.
"Get away," Ametrine ordered sharply. "No one will protect her—it is my command."
The maid whimpered, frozen in terror.
Then—
A shadow moved.
It was not cast by light, nor tied to any figure in the room. It slid across the marble like living night, flowing between the Prince's strike and the trembling girl. His magic met it and vanished—swallowed whole by the darkness.
The hall fell silent.
Rubina's breath caught. 'Darkness…'
The shadow remained, solid and defiant, daring the Prince to strike again.
A voice boomed—deep, resonant, inescapable: "You dare."
A crushing pressure swept through the hall. Even Ametrine dropped to one knee beneath its weight. Nobles bent their heads, their breathing sharp and shallow.
The game had changed.