CHAPTER 261: QUEEN’S PARTY II

The music poured through the hall like warm wine — thick, golden, and meant to dull the senses. Strings shimmered, drums pulsed low beneath our feet, and a dozen dancers spun in embroidered arcs across the floor like petals caught in a breeze.

It was a celebration, after all.

The queen’s triumph, or so the story went. More than two decades of peace under her rule, and now the whole court gathered in her name. But peace was a slippery thing. If you listened carefully, you could hear it cracking at the edges.

I sat beside Diana on the raised platform, my parents flanking us, all dressed like royalty — even though none of us had the crown.

Diana leaned in, watching the dancers. "See that one? The tall one in the emerald green?"

I followed her gaze. "What about him?"

"He winked at you twice already. Third time and I’m starting a fight."

I snorted. "You’re insufferable."

"I’m observant."

She wasn’t wrong, though. People had been looking at me all night — some with awe, some with suspicion, and a few like they were trying to guess how many secrets I could keep before I burst. I felt the weight of their gazes like glittering stones, beautiful but heavy. Every smile felt too bright, every toast too rehearsed. There were too many whispers in the corners, and too many shadows dressed like men.

One of the triplets—Daniel—leaned against a pillar near the fountain, arms crossed, eyes fixed on me. He didn’t blink when I looked back. Just raised his goblet in a mocking toast.

I raised my brows and returned the gesture, lips curving into a smile that didn’t quite reach my eyes.

Peter chuckled low beside me. "You’re already causing trouble and you haven’t even opened your mouth."

"Only the beginning," I said.

I glanced out at the room. Lavish floral chandeliers hung like frozen fireworks above the crowd, glistening with dew and soft magic. Gilded trays of delicacies floated past guests, each one more extravagant than the last — candied roses, roasted starfruit, delicate pastries shaped like phoenixes mid-flight. Laughter danced around the pillars, but none of it reached my ears.

Because beneath it all, I could feel it.

A hum in the ground. A tension in the air. As if the celebration itself were holding its breath.

"Do you think they know?" I asked Diana quietly.

"Not yet," she said. "But they’re guessing."

I looked at her then—my sister, my only real ally in the whole cursed room—and nodded once.

And that’s when he appeared.

Dim, the Queen’s pet vulture, cloaked in dark robes like he was mourning decency itself, ascending the steps toward me as if he owned the air.

The air thickened.

He didn’t walk so much as glide, his robes barely making a whisper against the polished marble of the platform stairs. My parents beside me stiffened, but Dim’s dark eyes remained fixed solely on me, as if they didn’t exist.

"You’re giving the speech," he said, voice low and clipped. "In twenty minutes."

I let a smirk bloom slowly across my face.

Dim’s jaw tightened. "You’ll give it, or you’ll wish you had."

A beat. My smirk widened. "Threats still, Dim? That’s beneath you. Shouldn’t you be licking the queen’s boots instead?"

I didn’t miss the twitch of irritation in his eye. Delicious.

My gaze flicked past him toward the elevated dais where the Queen sat like some divine sculpture come to life. She was everything they said she was — tall, gleaming, untouchable. Her gown was woven in the deepest royal blue, a shade so rich it made black seem dull.

Gold filigree curled along the hems like vines, and sapphires winked from her throat to her wrists, trailing like the night sky had poured itself over her skin. Her hair, as always, was pulled into that signature braid-crown, silver streaks woven through in a pattern too deliberate to be natural.

Beautiful, yes. But cold. Too polished. Too aware of the power her beauty held.

She watched the exchange on the platform with unblinking poise. Not a single muscle moved on her face, not even when I lifted my chin at her, defiant.

She didn’t smile. But her eyes sharpened.

"I’ll be waiting," Dim said, backing away.

My father was the first to speak after he was gone. "You don’t have to do this," he said, voice soft but edged with steel. "If you don’t want to, say so. We’ll deal with the fallout."

"I want to," I replied, steadying myself. "I’m not afraid of a stage."

"Just start the war already," Laura murmured, smoothing a nonexistent wrinkle on my sleeve.

I gave her a crooked smile. "Wish me luck, mom."

Diana leaned in, her shoulder brushing mine. "Triplets," she said simply.

I followed her eyes and spotted them near one of the columns, together, arms crossed, eyes locked on me like hawks scenting a rabbit.

They weren’t smiling. Not the mocking, lazy grins I was used to. No — this time, they looked... wary. As if they weren’t sure what I’d do, but they were bracing for it anyway.

They weren’t wrong.

A bell chimed — clear, melodic, final.

Dim reappeared like a bad stain and gestured sharply toward the front of the platform. I rose, the hem of my gown whispering over the marble as I stepped forward. A hush fell as I reached the dais. All faces turned toward me, eyes gleaming like polished coins, eager and expectant.

I could’ve said the lines they gave me. I could’ve thanked the queen for her benevolence. I could’ve praised her generosity, her beauty, her wisdom.

I could’ve.

Instead, I smiled.

"I was asked to speak about the Queen tonight," I began, my voice ringing clear through the hall. "And I suppose I should begin by thanking her for this celebration."

A pause.

"Thank you... for the reminder that appearances are everything."

A murmur rippled through the crowd. The Queen’s fingers twitched slightly on the armrest of her chair.

"You see," I continued, "beneath all the glittering gowns, the imported wines, the illusion of unity — there’s something else. Something that smells a little like fear. Like control. Like silence."

The room stilled.

I let my smile stretch just a little wider.

"Before I came up here, I was told I’d be giving this speech. Not asked. Told. And threatened, too — in front of witnesses — by one of Her Majesty’s trusted officials."

A loud gasp echoed from somewhere to the left. I caught Dim stiffening like he’d swallowed a bone.

"I was supposed to use this moment to flatter the queen. To call her the fairest of them all. To offer a performance of loyalty. And I do love performances. But I prefer to write my own script."

Someone coughed. A goblet clinked against the floor. Still, no one interrupted.

"Some of you may not know that when I participated in the annual contest, I would have lost my life but for my strange magic. The Queen had kept quiet while her daughter had cheated in the contest, and signed my death warrant. And to think she has done this before, to Zande, my mother’s prodigy...to hide the fact that her son had impregnated a commoner."

Murmurs arose, biting, accusatory.

"Oh, don’t worry. I have evidence." A smirk on my lips as I turned and winked at the Queen.

But the Queen’s face remained still. However, I saw the shift in her court — the whispers blooming like weeds. Her children looked like they were barely restraining themselves from rushing the stage.

I took a step forward. "But I am here, though Zande is not. And we are not afraid anymore."

The guards moved then.

Two of them surged forward, magic swords drawn—not toward the crowd, but toward me.

My hand twitched. Magic flared — quiet, invisible, personal. The floor beneath their boots cracked like frost biting glass. A ripple of pressure threw them back a full pace before they froze, stunned.

"I’m not finished," I said sweetly.

A wave of stillness drowned the hall.

And then, when I was very sure they were still listening, I finished the speech they hadn’t wanted:

"So here’s what I have to say. To the Queen, to her loyal dogs, and to anyone else watching from behind veils or shadowed balconies: stop threatening people who know who they are. It won’t work."

I smiled again — not polite this time, but wicked, bright, and bold.

"Now, if you’ll excuse me, I believe I’ve earned some wine."

And with that, I stepped away from the dais and back to my seat, the room in a silence so thick it felt like the air had been sucked out of it.

I sat down slowly, met my sister’s stunned stare, and chuckled.

"Too much?"

Diana blinked at me. "You’re mad. We agreed not to mention Zande. Now, you will have to present evidence."

My parents — to their credit — didn’t speak. They were statues, proud ones.

All eyes turned toward the Queen.

She rose slowly.

No panic. No rage. Just cool elegance as she walked to the dais. Her smile was carved from stone.

Well, well, well. What could she possibly have to say in her defense?