"Fiora," I said firmly, lowering my voice as I sat at the edge of the bed. "The King is going to invite me to dine with him tomorrow. I need you to pass a message to Evan—and be discreet. Don't get caught."
Fiora immediately straightened, alert. "Understood, Miss. What should I tell him?"
"Just make it look like the two of you are chatting casually in the corridor," I instructed, choosing my words carefully. "Then, pass this message to Prince Jared through him."
She gave a small nod, waiting for my next words with focused eyes.
"Tell him… I won't be able to meet with him anytime soon. What happened during the contest will likely shift the nobles' attention toward me. All eyes are watching now. I need to carefully choose who I interact with—every move is being measured."
I paused, then added more softly, "Please… also tell him that I'm sorry. Truly. I would have wanted to see him. But for now… it's safer this way."
Fiora nodded solemnly, her loyalty unwavering. "Yes, Miss Diana. I'll deliver your message."
As she left the room, I turned to the window, watching the moon cast its glow on the palace gardens. One dinner with the King, and already the stakes had changed. My every step from here on would have consequences.
It was barely dawn when Rebecca stormed into my chamber, her boots clacking sharply against the marble floor.
"Time for the next training," she declared, voice far too energetic for this ungodly hour.
She was already dressed in full riding attire—fitted trousers tucked into polished leather boots, a cream blouse layered under a dark violet waistcoat trimmed in gold, and gloves clutched in her hand. Her hair was tied in a tight braid, not a strand out of place. With her riding crop at her side and that ever-demanding stare, she looked more like a general than a noblewoman.
Half-asleep, I groaned and rolled over, burying my face in the pillow. "Training? We already won the contest. That means no more training." I shut my eyes again.
Rebecca pulled the covers off me with a huff. "Who told you that you're allowed to sleep in just because you won one round? Get up!"
Her voice cut through the morning silence like a sword. Despite my exhaustion, something in her tone jolted me upright. It was like an instinct—I couldn't sleep through Rebecca's commands even if I tried.
"I stayed up reading," I muttered groggily as I rubbed my eyes. "I finished both the Dining Etiquette and Communication books. The King invited me to dine with him today, so I need to be prepared."
Rebecca smirked, clearly impressed. "So you're getting smarter. Maybe I really am a great teacher."
I narrowed my eyes at her. "Your tongue is sharper than your brain, Rebecca. But… thank you. I do appreciate what you did for my friend."
She scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Don't mistake it for kindness. That was a business negotiation. Remember—I get thirty percent of your monthly revenue. I don't babysit for free."
I sat up fully, giving her a suspicious glance. "What are you even wearing?"
"We're going to joust," she said matter-of-factly.
I blinked. "Joust? As in the one where two people ride horses and try to impale each other with lances?"
"Exactly," she said cheerily. "It's part of the Royal Suitor Festival—a tradition meant to test agility, courage, and grace under pressure. All candidates must choose a form of sport or skill to compete in for the next round. You're lucky I picked this one for you."
I stared at her in disbelief. "No way. That's too hard. Why don't you do it instead? You'd win easily."
Rebecca gave a tight smile. "If the King had chosen me as his favorite, I wouldn't be stuck teaching you how not to fall off a horse."
"I didn't even know this contest had such games!" I snapped, flustered.
"Well, you do now," she shrugged. "There's a seven-day preparation period. No pressure. Just let me train you again, my weak and pitiful disciple."
I flopped back onto the bed dramatically. "This is my nightmare."
Rebecca tossed a riding helmet onto my lap with a smug grin. "Rise and shine, Princess. We've got a King to impress and a crowd to shock."
"This is awful," I groaned as I slid off the horse for what felt like the fifth time that morning. My boots hit the ground with a heavy thud, and I winced, brushing dust from my skirt. "I keep falling. Luckily, I haven't gotten any bruises yet. Rebecca, don't forget—I'm meeting the King later. I can't show up looking like I fought a war."
Rebecca stood coolly by the edge of the training yard, arms crossed and completely unfazed. "Then be careful with your body. It's not my problem anymore if you land on your face."
I shot her a glare, but before I could retort, the distant thunder of hooves interrupted our bickering. I turned toward the noise, heart sinking.
Three noblewomen trotted into the yard, mounted on pristine horses that looked more like ornaments than battle companions. At the front was a girl with an upturned chin, her honey-blonde hair cascading from beneath a feathered riding hat: Lady Katarina, the third princess of the Kingdom of Gamburza. Her violet cloak billowed behind her like a banner of pride, trimmed in silk and embroidered with the royal sigil of her house. Behind her were two familiar faces—Lady Ivana, cousin of the famously volatile Lady Ilena, and Farah, the sharp-tongued daughter of a merchant tycoon who monopolized the fabric trade across three regions.
I recognized them instantly—not from personal encounters, but from my servant days when I used to sneak peeks at the daily palace gazette. They were always in the news for something. Katarina once allegedly dumped red wine on a suitor who misspoke about her poetry; Ivana had slapped a scribe for failing to bow deeply enough; and Farah… well, Farah's scandal involved forging luxury gowns and pawning them off as "enchanted silk." Their reputations preceded them.
Katarina pulled on her reins, stopping just short of our training circle. A cruel smile played on her lips as her sharp eyes flicked over my dusty appearance.
"Well, well. If it isn't the Flower Dance's leading puppet," she sneered. "Careful, darling—you'll ruin your pretty dress rolling around like that."
I straightened my back, tightening my grip on the reins. "Some of us actually train," I replied coolly. "I suppose you're just here to watch?"
"Watch?" Ivana let out a snort of laughter. "You mean babysit the court's new favorite clown?"
Farah leaned forward on her saddle, her voice sugary sweet. "We just came to see if it was true that the great Miss Diana can't even ride a horse without falling like a toddler."
"Your waltz must've been a fluke," Katarina said with a mocking pout. "Or perhaps the King just likes dancers who pretend to faint into his arms."
Rebecca stepped forward, casually flipping her braid behind her shoulder. "Careful, ladies. The dirt you're spitting from your mouths might end up on your titles."
"Oh please," Katarina scoffed, arching a brow. "We're just surprised. With the way the crowd cheered for her, we thought she could actually do something useful beyond curtsying and blinking."
I offered them a tight, polite smile—one I'd perfected from years of smiling at customers I secretly loathed. "Thank you for the concern," I said evenly. "I'll be sure to wave to you from the final round."
Their laughter faded only slightly as they turned their horses and trotted off, leaving a trail of smug amusement in their wake.
As their silhouettes disappeared, I exhaled slowly, hands still clenched around the reins.
Rebecca leaned in, her voice low. "You're improving."
"Really?"
"No," she said, deadpan. "But I like your attitude."