Words of prince Morven's impending visit spread faster than wild fire, leaping from maid to guard, from courtier to noble like sparks of the wind.
The palace, always a place of quiet murmurs, now hummed with anticipation. Prince Morven of Adverland – the same prince that danced with princess Havynlee on the king's birthday, whose eyes had rarely left her face that night – was coming with a formal request.
A proposal.
But no one, not even the queen herself, expected him to ask for Havynlee's hand in marriage. A prince of Adverland asking for her? The quiet one. The soft one. The daughter of a banished maid? It sent whispers rattling through the palace halls like dry leaves.
The king sat proudly at the dining table that morning, resplendent in his deep crimson robes, trimmed with golden sun fire embroidery. His queen, Iridessa, looked stiff and unreadable, her back too straight, her smile a fraction too sharp. Ivy sat beside her mother, clenching and unclenching her fingers beneath the tablecloth. Her spoon clinked against her untouched tea.
Havynlee entered quietly, her red corset dress delicate against the cream-toned marble of the room. Her hair was loose, trailing like strands of black silk down her back, and her presence, though soft, seemed to draw the air around her still.
She bowed gently before her father and took her seat with a grace that made no sound.
Ivy's eyes burned into her.
She hadn't eaten since the news broke.
She had always liked prince Morven. She'd imagined herself beside him, wearing the royal blue veil of Adverland brides. She was certain he'd choose her.
Ivy had always chased the approval of royalty, attending every ball in every kingdom, praying for prince Morven's attention. She had met him countless times. Danced near him. Laughed too loudly when he passed. But he had never paused his gaze on her.
Not until Havynlee appeared. Quiet, kind Havynlee.
Her stepsister.
She didn't even try, and yet…..
Ivy's nails dig into her palm.
This couldn't stand. Not again.
Not after everything.
That night, in the queen's private chamber, Iridessa had called upon the one person she trusted most: a servant whose loyalty had been proven by silence and stains. The plan was whispered over candlelight and anger. The poison was delicate, quick. Enough to paralyze the lungs before death became noticeable. It would be slipped into the tea prepared for Havynlee that morning.
"Lia always brings her breakfast herself," Ivy had noted, lips curled. "Make sure the cup is the right one."
The maid nodded. The tea was brewed before sunrise. A sweet aroma masked the bitterness of the poison.
But what no one knew – what not even Ivy or Iridessa could have guessed – was that Havynlee had already stirred from her chambers.
Sometime before the sun had fully risen, Havynlee stepped softly into the kitchen.
Her presence startled the servants.
No princess ever entered the kitchen. Especially not one as softly spoken, as oddly calm, as Havynlee.
She wore red again – always red. A deep, scarlet gown that echoed her mother.
Her long black hair fell in curls across her shoulders, unbound, unrushed.
"I came to inspect the preparations."
She said gently, her voice carrying like silk through silence.
No one answered. Everyone just bowed and murmured a quiet your highness.
She smiled at everyone – an unsettling, serene smile – and walked the aisle like a shadow passing through flame.
The most trusted maid had just placed the poison cup on the silver tray meant for Lia. She froze when Havynlee's gaze fell upon the table.
For a second – just one – there was something in Havynlee's eyes that made the maid blink.
Then Havynlee turned. And left.
No one stopped her
No one dared ask her why she came.
That same maid, hidden beneath calm composure, felt a chill bite through her spine. The princess hadn't even looked at her directly. She only passed the cup with a faint smile and left as quickly as she came, huming a tune that made the room feel colder.
And now, as the castle bells tolled noon, the great dining hall gleamed with royal splendor, long silken banners of Eldenwilde and Adverland Fluttered overhead. The heavy wooded doors creaked open at the stroke of twelve, and the gathered nobles fell silence.
Prince Morven of Adverland entered with all the weight of lineage and command. He was tall, clothed in deep navy with Adverland sigil – a winged stag – pressed into the silver clasp at his shoulder.
He was flanked by four royal guards and two council members from Adverland, bearing scrolls and velvet boxes. With them came an air of solemnity and power. Everybody already knew the purpose of his visit. Two days prior, a golden scroll bearing Adverland's royal seal had arrived, formally requesting the princess's hand in marriage.
The king had taken Havynlee aside, told her gently that this union would strengthen their kingdoms. Adverland was vast, wealthy, and Morven was its crown prince.
If she agreed. She would be queen someday. He had asked nothing more – only that she consider the future.
The king stood. "Your highness," he said, voice warm, "Eldenwilde welcomes you."
Prince Morven bowed. "And Adverland returns the honor, your majesty."
His eyes moved past the king, past queen iridessa, and Ivy – who sat still, her first clenched beneath the table – and landed on Havynlee, calm and composed, she sat as if sculpted from dusk and silence. Her silver gaze met his for a moment, unreadable.
A herald stepped forward, unrolling the scroll – an official parchment bearing the wax seals of Adverland, and began the formal declaration, as the tradition demanded.
"By decree of his majesty, king Cael of Adverland, and by the will of crown prince Morven himself, this royal alliance is hereby proposed between the house of Adverland and the house of Eldenwilde – through the union of prince Morven….and princess Havynlee of Eldenwilde."
The words lingered in the air.
All eyes shifted to the princess.
She said nothing – not because she was expected to speak, but because they were all watching, searching for something. A flicker of joy. A trace of hesitation. A flicker of joy. A trace of hesitation. A silent rebellion in her gaze. But she gave them nothing.
Before the silence could settle too deeply – a shriek.
A piercing ragged cry erupted from the kitchen corridor.
The dining hall shifted from breathless stillness to chaos. The guards reached for their swords. Morven turned sharply. The king did not rise, but his eyebrows furrowed – just faintly. A flicker of something unreadable passed across his face.
One of the palace guards exchanged a look with another, then stepped out swiftly. A pause. Murmured voices.
He returned moments later face pale. "Your majesty," he said carefully, bowing low.
"Speak," the king commanded.
"There's been…..an incident. One of the Queen's maids collapsed after drinking from a cup. The kitchen staff believe she was poisoned."
Gasps.
Ivy's face drained of colour. Iridessa's hand tightened on the edge of the table. The king's face darkened with disbelief, and without a word, he stood, his chair scraped loudly behind him and marched towards the doors. Morven followed without hesitation. So did Iridessa and Ivy, and then the others.
Havynlee lingered for a heartbeat. Her eyes lowered, her fingers curling slightly against her gown – then she stood, silent and composed, then followed.
The kitchen was chaos. Maids huddled near the wall, wide-eyed and shaken. In the center of the floor, the lifeless body of Iridessa's most trusted maid lay sprawled, her lips purple, blood trailing from her nose and mouth. Her eyes were wide open. A teacup lay shattered beside her.
"She was fine minutes ago," a trembling maid said. "She just…she drank it and fell."
The king turned to the head steward. "Poison?"
The steward nodded slowly, grim. "Most likely. A fast-acting one."
Lia, who had followed quietly with Havynlee, glanced at her mistress and felt something tug deep in her chest. There was a strange stillness about her, like still water, that had gone too quiet. And then – she saw it.
A smirk.
Small. Barely there. But unmistakable.
And for a moment, just a flicker. Lia saw Havynlee's shadow stretch…. In the wrong direction of the sunlit window, but sideways, crooked, almost twisting against the white marble floor.
Lia blinked, but the image didn't vanish.
Beside her, prince Morven shifted slightly. He had been watching Havynlee. And he'd noticed too – though not shadows, something else.
"You're stiff," he said gently, because everyone else in the dining hall was reacting – gasping, whispering, turning to one another in fear and confusion. The death in the kitchen had shaken the entire palace. Even Iridessa and Ivy were visibly tense.
But Havynlee?
She remained completely still. Not a twitch. Not even a flinch. She didn't lean forward to listen. She' didn't blink too fast. She just stood, silent and unmoving.
That unnatural calmness – on a day when someone has just died from poison – is what made prince Morven notice her.
"Are you okay?" He asked, it wasn't just concern. It was confusion, because she didn't react like someone innocent who was shocked by a death.
Havynlee eyes, which had been locked on the dead maid's unmoving form, shifted slowly to meet his. For a heartbeat she didn't answer.
Then –
"I'm fine."
But Lia, standing next to her, fell a chill trace her spine. There was something wrong with the voice. It was Havynlee's, yes….but there was something beneath it. Something deeper. Like an echo – or the breath of someone else behind her lips. As if her voice belonged to two people – one innocent, one ancient.