The grand hall buzzed with idle chatter, golden light cascading from chandeliers overhead.
And then — she entered.
Lady Elyza of House Merden.
A raven-haired beauty, her dress a scandal of crimson silk clinging to every curve. All eyes turned as she slipped her hand possessively around Prince Sylas's arm.
"My love, I missed you."
She purred, pressing herself to him, her voice like poisoned honey.
Maliny didn't need her eyes to know.
The shift in air, the sudden hush — she felt the weight of it, and in the faintest breath, caught the familiar scent of lilac clinging to Sylas.
The very one she had gifted him long ago.
A sharp, invisible crack formed within her, but her face remained a mask of gentle serenity.
Lenardro's jaw tightened, his gaze dark as storm clouds.
The king, watching from afar, noted the shift in the duke's heir's expression.
Inwardly, the monarch cursed.
"That damn fool Sylas… does he truly wish to provoke the Drime? It took great effort to pacify the former Duke after the broken betrothal. Even a blind daughter of Drime should not be mocked so openly."
Prince Aldric, the eldest, smirked into his goblet, leaning to murmur beneath his breath:
"Fool. And to think I once feared for my crown when you secured a match with Drime's blood. You're no rival."
Meanwhile, Prince Elric, known for his kind heart, cast Melani a glance filled with genuine sorrow — the only one among them to look upon her not with calculation or pity, but quiet grief.
At the center of the room, Sylas chuckled, pulling Elyza toward the dance floor.
"The thing I adore most about you,"
he whispered loudly enough for nearby ears to catch,
"are those beautiful eyes that look straight into mine."
The words struck like a dagger, Lenardro's blood boiling beneath his skin.
But his face — a perfect, courtly smile.
He would not give them the satisfaction of seeing him snap.
Then, like a wolf sensing weakness, Aldric stepped forward.
"Lady Maliny,"
he said smoothly, bowing low.
"Would you honor me with a dance?"
Lenardro opened his mouth to refuse — but caught himself.
He could not afford the venom of the court's whispers by rejecting the crown prince. That would bring unnecessary rumors.
So he bowed his head instead.
Aldric gently took Maliny's hand, guiding her toward the floor.
His touch lingered a second too long as he brushed a strand of silver hair behind her ear.
"You are breathtaking,"
he murmured, voice low.
"Sylas was a fool to let you slip away."
He expected a blush. A demure, stammered thank you.
But Maliny did not flinch.
She stood as poised and placid as a statue.
For a fleeting second, something flickered in Aldric's gaze — irritation.
And then she smiled.
A bright, innocent smile so radiant it almost seemed pure… almost.
"Thank you, Aldric,"
she replied softly.
"You're such a charming man yourself."
His heart stuttered, the words not quite matching the way her lips curved.
A pang of something foreign struck him — quickly smothered.
A question surfaced in his mind. "Is she acting?"
But Aldric reminded himself:
"Everyone knows the Duke's daughter is sweet and naive. It's impossible she could play like the snakes in court. Using her to secure the throne won't be difficult."
Yet something about her felt… off.
From a distance, Lenardro watched them closely.
He felt it too — that wasn't a sincere smile.
It wasn't meekness. It wasn't innocence.
It was a mask.
A chill slid down his spine.
"Has she always been like this?"
He wondered.
Had he, all these years, mistaken fragility for calculation?
He shook the thought away.
She was blind. Sheltered.
She knew nothing of the world's cruelty.
It was impossible… wasn't it?