The letter from Elias remained next to her window, its message etched in her memory. "Let them claim you are cursed—They fear what they cannot kill." At one time, this had made her smile, albeit a weary yet authentic smile.
Now, as the palace readied itself for the Harvest Moon Gathering—an occasion designed to unify the aristocracy and reaffirm her role as heir—Charlotte sensed it again. That low buzz in the atmosphere. The same feeling that had hung in the air the night before the raid. The sense that something was shifting beneath the palace's marble and gold.
Mira stood behind her, brushing her hair. Elias would arrive soon. Eladin had already drifted off to sleep, curled up after pleading to let him stay for the speeches. Everything felt still. Too still.
Then came the tea.
It was a minor detail. A gesture from the kitchens, served with a respectful bow by a servant she didn't recognize. She hesitated to drink. Caution had become her constant companion. Yet weariness tugged at her. She felt alone. And the aroma—it took her back to her younger days, before the iron grip of politics smothered everything in silence and steel.
Just one sip.
That was all.
The delicate porcelain slipped from her grip, shattering against the marble floor.
Mira rushed to her side in an instant, but the world had already begun to blur. Her limbs felt heavy. Her sight faded to dusk.
Voices rang out. Somewhere in the distance, guards burst into the room. Mira's screams were inaudible but filled the space like a storm.
Charlotte's final thoughts were not of revenge.
They were about the inconvenience.
Not yet. Not this way. I was only just beginning.
And then—
Nothing.