I haven't seen Shea since I returned to the palace with Cassian and Ray. It's like she vanished into a thin air like a shadow too ashamed to face the sun.
When I finally ask Esther about her, the answer doesn't surprise me.
"She's been hiding in one of the outer quarters," Esther says, her voice low. "The one behind the east wing. She barely steps out. The maids say strange smells come from there. Candles. Smoke."
That's all I need to hear.
I head there without a word to anyone. I don't ask Cassian to come. This is something I need to face alone.
The corridor leading to the forbidden quarter is silent, eerie. My footsteps echo against the high walls, and the moment I push open the creaking door, the air shifts. It's thicker here; humid, heavy with incense and something darker.
Shea sits at the far end of the chamber, cross-legged on the floor. Red candles burn low around her, flickering shadows dancing on the walls. A copper bowl filled with black water rests before her, surrounded by incense and strange stones marked with runes. Her long braids are pulled back, and she wears a plain robe and none of the lavish gowns she once flaunted.
She looks up and meets my eyes. She doesn't move.
"Well, well," she says with a thin smile. "Lil' sister. To what do I owe this royal visit?"
I step into the room, my eyes scanning the dark artifacts around her. "Are we sisters?"
She raises a brow.
I don't flinch. I let my gaze linger on the candles, the bowl, the smoke. "What is all this? Rituals? Magic? Are you a witch?"
Shea laughs, bitter and sharp. "Do I look like one?"
"I don't know what you and your mother were scheming in this palace," I say, voice low and cold. "I don't know what she promised you. What throne you dreamed of mounting beside her. But whatever it was… it's over."
The smirk fades slightly from her face.
"I'm sure you've heard—she's been sentenced. Life imprisonment. No visitors. Not even you."
I step closer, the smoke curling around me.
"You have no place here, Shea. This palace is no sanctuary for sorcery. Whatever these rituals are," I motion to the bowl, "they end now."
She glares at me. "So that's it? You come here crowned in power, glowing with victory, and cast me out like garbage? Is that how you treat your big sister?"
My blood simmers. "You were never my sister. You were a secret. A shadow kept in the corner. A weapon waiting to be used."
Her eyes flash. "You're heartless."
"No," I say calmly. "I've just grown teeth."
I turn to leave, but stop at the door. My voice is cool steel when I speak.
"You have two days to leave the palace. If you don't, you'll be removed."
Silence.
Then I glance back, one last time.
"Oh, and Shea?" My voice slices through the smoke. "If I ever find proof that you had anything to do with the disappearance of my child… I will come for you myself. And not even your black sisters will be able to protect you."
Her face twists, rage and fear battling behind her eyes.
But I don't wait for a reply.
I turn and walk out of that cursed room, slamming the door behind me. I leave behind the smoke, the darkness, and the last fading trace of Queen Morgana's poison that refuses to die quietly.
---
The former Queen's quarters have always felt cold to me—lavish, yes, but hollow. Deceit lingers in the silk curtains, the ornate mirrors, the gold-gilded furniture. Every inch feels like a trap dressed in velvet.
So I clear it out.
Every tapestry, every rug, every reminder of her rule is stripped away. In their place, I bring warmth. Cream linen curtains. Bookshelves with real books. Cushions sewn by palace hands. I want this space to breathe again—not with power, but with peace.
And then, I bring them in.
My parents.
Amira and Ronan Weylin arrive just after sunrise, quiet and overwhelmed. Amira clutches her scarf like a lifeline as she steps beneath the high marble archway, her eyes sweeping the palace that once belonged to the woman who nearly destroyed us.
Ray runs ahead, his little feet tapping eagerly across the polished floors. He tugs at Ronan's hand. "Come see my new room, Grandpa!"
Ronan chuckles, his eyes soft. "This palace is too big for me, Princess."
"It's not just a palace," I say, taking his bag and nodding to the guards who bow low. "It's your home now."
Amira looks at me, her voice trembling. "You don't have to do this. We raised you because we wanted to. Not for a reward."
"I know," I say, placing my hand over hers. "And that's why you deserve everything."
The staff has been briefed. Guards stand discreetly at the corridor ends. Two trusted maids are assigned to serve them. I've had a private dining area created beside their new quarters, with a view of the eastern gardens. Their suite is peaceful, warm, nothing like the cold perfection that once filled these walls.
Ray won't have to miss them anymore. He needs them close.
So do I.
That night, after dinner, I walk the corridor and pause outside their door. It's slightly ajar. I peek inside and see Amira gently brushing Ray's hair while he sleeps on Ronan's lap, snoring softly mid-story.
I lean against the frame and smile.
For the first time since my world was torn apart, the palace finally feels like home.