As soon as Layla saw the guard, her first instinct was to return to the castle and wait for the guard to arrive in front of her.

The soft knock at the mansion's front door echoed through the quiet morning, cutting through the stillness. A young guard stationed at the entrance exchanged a wary glance with his partner before cautiously opening the heavy oak door.

A regal-looking man in a deep blue cloak trimmed with silver embroidery stood on the front steps. His posture was stiff, and the royal crest gleamed proudly on the polished badge pinned to his chest. His sharp eyes assessed the guards with practiced indifference.

"I am here on official business. I bear an invitation from His Majesty's court."

The messenger declared, his voice steady and authoritative. He also sounded arrogant, almost as if he had no need to be polite in front of anyone else.

The guards straightened, nodding respectfully.

"Who is the recipient?"

Raziel asked in a tight voice. He was not pleased with how this man was acting in front of him and Lady Layla.

"The invitation is for Lady Mary, Duke Lockhart's maid and the person incharge of the huge success of her master."

The messenger replied, withdrawing a finely sealed envelope bearing the royal wax crest.

Before the guards could clarify, footsteps echoed from within the mansion. Layla emerged from the grand hallway, her expression one of measured calm, though her eyes gleamed with curiosity. Launa padded silently at her side, her small but imposing form radiating quiet menace.

"I'll take it,"

Layla said smoothly, holding out her hand.

The royal messenger hesitated for only a moment before offering the envelope with a respectful bow. Layla's commanding presence left no room for question.

"By royal decree, you are invited to attend the upcoming Royal Ball hosted by His Majesty. It is both a celebration of the kingdom's prosperity and an opportunity to honor exceptional contributors to our nation's economy."

The messenger intoned formally.

His gaze swept over her, lingering with faint curiosity before he quickly averted his eyes.

"Your attendance is expected,"

He finished, bowing again before retreating toward his waiting horse.

Layla watched him go, fingers lightly tracing the edges of the sealed invitation. Her mind raced, considering the implications. The Royal Ball was a grand political event attended by nobles, merchants, and influential figures—perfect for power plays and secret deals.

The messenger clearly thought she was the head of the Ashthorn Trading Company, unaware that the actual business leader was Mary. Layla's lips curved into a faint, thoughtful smile as she turned back into the mansion.

______

Later that afternoon, Layla sat in the sun-dappled library, the sealed invitation resting on the table before her. Mary and Raziel stood nearby, their expressions contrasting sharply—one curious, the other deeply skeptical.

"A Royal Ball. It's not every day you receive an invitation to such a prestigious event."

Mary mused, studying the elegant seal.

Raziel crossed his arms, his brow furrowed.

"It's a political trap."

Layla leaned back, watching them with amusement.

"Of course it is. There is no way the royal family does not see us as a thorn in their side after what happened. I am sure they are eager to get rid of us."

Lalya finished while petting the dragon she had over her shoulder.

Mary shrugged dismissively.

"Or they see us as valuable allies. The company has grown rapidly, thanks to our efforts. It's only natural the court would notice."

"Natural? Our miss has been targeted twice in as many weeks. Inviting us to the Royal Ball after an assassination attempt isn't a coincidence—it's strategy."

Raziel scoffed.

Mary waved a hand, unconcerned.

"Every political move is strategy. That's how the game works. Think of the opportunity. This could be our chance to announce to the world that you're alive, well, and stronger than ever."

She turned to Layla, her eyes gleaming with ambition.

Raziel tensed.

"That would paint an even bigger target on her back."

Layla interlaced her fingers, contemplating both arguments. Mary wasn't wrong—the ball could serve as the perfect stage to reclaim her place in society. On the other hand, Raziel's caution was well-founded. Attending such a public event would mean walking into a den of wolves, every noble and spy watching for the slightest weakness.

After a moment, she spoke.

"We can't ignore the invitation—it would raise suspicions."

Raziel opened his mouth to protest, but she raised a hand, silencing him.

"But we won't go unprepared."

Mary's smile widened.

"I knew you'd see reason."

"Reason? It's far more than that. The royal family has too many secrets that I need to uncover. So Mary, would you like to play as my escort? Let's make my being back a grand thing to celebrate. I am sure it will make a lot of people very happy."

Layla's smile was not a nice one. It spoke of someone getting screwed over and this time, it was the royal family that wanted to trap her and Mary.

Raziel sighed heavily but nodded. "I'll double the security detail."

Mary clapped her hands together, already envisioning the possibilities.

"And we'll need the finest gowns and accessories—the right appearance matters just as much as strategy."

Layla's lips quirked into a faint smile.

"Make the arrangements, but don't overdo it. We're making a statement—not playing dress-up."

Mary laughed lightly.

"Oh, we can do both."

As the conversation wound down, Layla rose from her seat, pacing toward the tall windows overlooking the mansion's vast gardens. The distant treetops swayed gently in the afternoon breeze, their leaves shimmering like liquid silver in the sunlight.

Her mind turned back to the mysterious attacks—the doll puppet, the severed magical link, and the near-explosion. This invitation felt like the next move in a game she hadn't fully deciphered yet.

But if her enemies thought they could manipulate her into playing their game, they were sorely mistaken.

She would attend the Royal Ball—not as a pawn but as a queen ready to reshape the board.