The balcony offered a rare calm above the glittering chaos of the feast. Selene leaned against the cool stone railing, letting the night air wash over her tense features. Behind her, the distant music and laughter blurred into a muted hum.
"I… I can't stay in there," she whispered. "Too much noise. Too many people. It feels… suffocating."
Lyra stepped into the moonlight beside her, quiet yet grounding—as though her very presence steadied the world around them.
"Anyone would be overwhelmed," she said softly. "It doesn't make you weak."
Selene swallowed, gaze fixed on the city lights below. "Your mother… she doesn't like me. I feel trapped."
"I'm sorry," Lyra murmured, her voice low with regret. "I didn't realize she'd make you feel that way."
Selene hesitated, her voice trembling. "She thinks I'm the reason you refused the Princess."she paused and asks "Am I?"
Lyra crouched slightly to meet her eyes.
"You're the reason I must be cautious," she said gently. "But no—that's not why. Kylie is dear to me, but like a sister. I could never be happy in that marriage."
Relief and longing swirled inside Selene, fierce and confusing.
Lyra reached out, brushing her thumb lightly across Selene's hand.
"You are seen. You are safe. You matter. You don't need to prove anything—to anyone."
Selene trembled, absorbing the words. The tightness in her chest loosened for the first time that evening.
Under the moon's silver glow, the intimacy of the moment deepened. Selene's heart thrummed, fierce and protective.
And Lyra—quietly, unexpectedly—noticed.
The moon lit Selene like spilled starlight, softening the edges of her face, turning her pale skin to silver. Her green eyes, wide and uncertain, caught the light like polished emeralds—so striking, so alive, they seemed almost unreal. Ethereal.
Lyra's breath faltered for a fraction of a second. She wasn't sure if Selene had always been this beautiful, or if she was only now allowing herself to truly see it.
Either way, the sight stirred something warm and unsteady inside her—a warmth she quickly masked, though it lingered stubbornly beneath her ribs.
Selene, lost in her own storm of emotions, didn't notice the shift. Relief, protectiveness, and quiet devotion pulsed in her chest, stronger than ever. She wanted to be the one Lyra trusted most, the one she could protect, the one who mattered.
Lyra's gaze softened further.
"Whatever comes, we face it together," she said quietly. "You're not alone."
Selene's heart steadied. Lyra's words anchored her in a new, fragile certainty.
Unseen in the shadows just inside the balcony doors, Princess Kylie lingered. She had come to speak—one last attempt at reclaiming what she believed was slipping away.
But what she witnessed instead was Lyra's tenderness. Selene's trembling vulnerability. The closeness between them—so intimate, so natural—that everything clicked into place.
Kylie's eyes narrowed.
Lyra's refusal.
Her distance.
Her hesitation.
It was her.
The girl who had appeared from nowhere.
The girl who somehow held a power Kylie could not understand.
Jealousy twisted inside her—sharp, possessive.
Lyra was hers by history, by childhood, by bond.
Not this stranger's.
A silent vow formed: she would not allow Selene to stand between them.
Outside, unaware of the watching eyes, Lyra squeezed Selene's hand—gentle, reassuring.
Selene looked up, startled by the warmth.
Lyra smiled softly.
"Together," she repeated.
Kylie stepped back into the shadows, her thoughts tightening into resolve.
The quiet rivalry had begun.