The amber glow of dusk spilled across the polished floor, casting soft shadows in the corners of the chamber. Lola paced restlessly, the silk of her gown whispering against the stone tiles. Her eyes, though open, barely saw the beauty of the setting sun beyond her windows. Her mind was elsewhere, sharp, racing, plotting.
So this was how they played the game. With honeyed smiles and poisoned intentions.
She had once thought kindness and silence were her shields. But the palace did not reward meekness, it devoured it.
A knock sounded at the door.
"My lady?" Beatrix's voice floated in gently. "Shall I warm your supper?"
Lola stopped mid-stride. "No, thank you. I'll just have tea."
At that, Emmeline stepped into the room, a silver tray in her hands. "I wasn't sure if you'd want it, but I brought some just in case."
"Thank you," Lola replied softly, nodding her appreciation.
Emmeline set the tray down with practiced grace, then poured a cup and handed it to her mistress. Lola accepted it with a faint smile and took a slow sip, though the warmth did little to soothe her unsettled thoughts.
Her maids exchanged a glance behind her back. They had known her long enough to recognise when something was amiss.
"Is everything alright, my lady?" Beatrix asked gently.
Lola waved the question away with a sigh. "Nothing terrible. I simply had... a rather enlightening conversation with the Grand Empress."
She offered them a cryptic smile as she turned to face the fire.
"Enlightening?" Emmeline echoed, curiosity colouring her voice.
"Mmm." Lola took another sip, then lowered her cup. "Insightful, certainly. She reminded me of something I should never have forgotten."
Beatrix tilted her head. "And what's that?"
"That the palace is not a sanctuary," Lola said, her tone calm but edged with steel. "It's a battlefield dressed in silks and tea."
Her maids looked at one another again, more uncertain this time.
Emmeline stepped forward. "Is there anything you need of us, my lady? You only have to ask."
Lola studied them both, their loyalty, their steadiness. She knew now more than ever that she couldn't stand alone. A queen even one without a crown needed allies.
"There is something," she said quietly, then turned toward the window, watching the last sliver of sun slip beneath the horizon. "I'll need your help. Because there's a storm coming… and if we don't prepare, we'll be swept away with the rest of them."
Her voice was calm, but her eyes shimmered with resolve.
Her maids looked between themselves, uncertain but loyal. Whatever storm approached, they would not abandon her.
Meanwhile, in the East Wing…
The room was deathly still, save for the sound of laughter. Lady Adriana stood before the window, her silk gown shimmering in the candlelight as she doubled over with mirth. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes, though there was nothing joyful in them.
"Oh, how delicious," she gasped, wiping her cheek with a lace handkerchief. "She's smarter than I gave her credit for. How positively delightful."
Her maids stood motionless, heads bowed, scarcely daring to breathe. The air in the room had turned frigid, as if her laughter had stolen all the warmth.
"I was beginning to grow bored," Adriana continued, her voice a low purr. "But now the game begins in earnest. I do hope she's ready."
She turned, her steps graceful and slow, as if savoring each one.
"Let's see how long she lasts."
With that, she swept out of the room, her laughter echoing behind her like a warning.
Her maids exhaled in unison, their hands trembling at their sides.
They had seen that look before.
And it never ended well.