"My lady, isn't it wonderful that the queen is staying at the mansion? And she agreed to let you dine with them tonight!" Emily beamed as she brushed my hair, her small hands working with careful precision, as if royalty would judge me by every strand.
I offered her a faint smile through the mirror. "I suppose it is," I murmured, though my thoughts had already begun to drift elsewhere. "Emily, could you give me a moment alone?"
She blinked, clearly puzzled, but didn't question me. "Of course, my lady." With a curtsy, she slipped out, the door clicking softly behind her.
Silence settled.
I rose from the vanity and crossed to the bookshelf, my fingers trailing along worn spines until they found the one I needed. A familiar volume—thick, leatherbound, and heavy with the lore of this world. I opened it, flipping through its pages with practiced urgency, searching for anything—anything—that might explain the queen's sudden appearance.
Or Alistair.
My hands stilled as I landed on a page bearing his name.
A chill crept down my spine.
Alistair:Known abilities—Mind Melding and Empathomancy.
I stared at the words, feeling the world tilt.
Empathomancy—the ability to influence or manipulate another's emotions.
That explained too much. The sudden shifts in how I felt around him. The warmth in my chest that hadn't belonged to me. The smile I couldn't suppress. They weren't mine—not entirely.
And worse—
Mind Melding:A rare ability that allows the user to scan through another's memories through physical contact.
My breath caught.
He had touched my shoulder.
Not just a touch—a lingering one. Warm. Intentional. I'd felt it stir something in me. But now I wondered... had it stirred something in him, too?
Had he seen something?
The memory struck like a blade—the gravesite, and my careless remark: It doesn't hurt to lose parents. His expression had shifted, just for a second. Confusion. Hesitation. At the time, it made no sense.
Now it did.
He knows.
Or at least… he saw something. According to the text, Mind Melding had limits. It couldn't read active thoughts—only buried memories. And the deeper they were, the harder they were to access.
So maybe he saw Lily's life. Or maybe mine. But did he understand what he saw?
I began pacing, the book still open in my hands, thoughts racing with a dozen dangerous possibilities.
If he knows I'm not Lily…
No. He would've said something. Unless he's waiting. Watching. Letting me hang myself with my silence.
I snapped the book shut, heart pounding.
Alistair's powers weren't just dangerous—they were unpredictable. A threat I hadn't properly calculated. A clock ticking just beneath my skin.
At least I knew one thing: as long as I stayed silent, kept my thoughts buried and my skin untouched, he couldn't reach me. Not with his mind. Not with his eyes.
Not yet.
It wasn't wise to go without gloves. His ability required direct contact—skin to skin. I slid the white gloves up my arms, the satin cool and comforting, then adjusted the sleeves of my crimson gown. The only dress I had that might impress the queen—voluminous, jeweled, with elegant long sleeves that skimmed my wrists. A mask of elegance. A costume for a part I wasn't sure I could keep playing.
I walked the marble corridor toward the main dining hall, footsteps echoing in the silence. My thoughts drifted to Seraphina Vexmoor Lysoria, the second queen of King Caelan Duskryn Lysoria.
She hadn't been born to royalty. Once, she was only the king's mistress. When his first wife failed to bear a son, and Seraphina was discovered to be with child, the order of things began to fracture. She was moved into the palace, named a royal concubine. But when she bore a healthy boy, the king and his council raised her to queen.
The former queen, now a concubine, had been quietly pushed aside. Her two daughters, once poised for courtly futures, were stripped of titles and claims. A cruel, calculated exchange—one womb traded for another. And now, Seraphina sat upon a throne built from another woman's silence.
And her son, the future of the kingdom, was waiting at the dining table.
There was still no record of Seraphina's ability. The archives offered nothing. The servants said less. If she had a gift, she had buried it deep, like everything else behind those cold violet eyes.
I paused outside the grand doors of the dining hall. From within came the sound of laughter, of cutlery and crystal. The performance had already begun.
I took a breath. Steadied myself.
Whatever truth waited inside—whatever danger—I was about to face it.