The King's Castle was simply massive. From a distance, its sheer scale made the surrounding buildings look like dollhouses. I tried not to stick my head out of the carriage window like an overexcited dog, but the temptation was real.
When we arrived, the palace grounds were packed—dozens of noble carriages lined the marble walkways. Tonight was the year-end celebration. An opulent masquerade of politics and pageantry wrapped in royal tradition.
As we stepped out, Regina's face became an impassive mask—emotionless, save for a politely empty smile. The Count and Rose wore different versions of the same expression. I'd been informed beforehand to stick to Regina like wax to a seal.
"Good evening, Your Majesty," Regina greeted, executing a perfect curtsy.
The King, standing beside his son Timothy, gave her a polite nod in return. The Prince, however, barely veiled his disdain. His eyes lingered on Regina with contempt, though he said nothing.
After exchanging greetings with the influential crowd, Regina excused herself. I followed. We ended up on one of the balconies—thankfully empty. She didn't dance, didn't bask in attention, didn't even stay long in the hall. It was her coming-of-age celebration, yet she treated it like a chore.
After some silence, I offered to fetch refreshments. I knew she wanted to eat but wouldn't admit it. Taking a silver tray, I began selecting from the mountain of dishes on display—pastries, glazed meats, flaky tarts, and even some spiced lamb rolls. The System helpfully highlighted the best ones.
Then a voice, drenched in noble arrogance and laced with disdain, sliced through the air.
"Well, would you look at that. The witch's little devil is here. Where's your mistress, hmm?"
I turned, instantly on edge.
A blonde noble girl stood with her entourage. Her hair was styled into a high braided bun adorned with sparkling ornaments. She wore a luxurious cerulean dress that matched her striking blue eyes.
I didn't recognize her, but her aura screamed trouble.
"Good evening, Your Ladyship," I said calmly. "Lady Regina felt a little overwhelmed and stepped out for some air. I'm just bringing her some food."
The other girls with her snorted, clearly irritated. One of them, a black-haired girl, muttered something about "lowborn dogs in lace" under her breath.
"Not worth our gaze," the blonde scoffed. "Yet here you are, walking free like you belong."
I gave no response, simply bowed and turned away.
As I returned toward the balcony, the black-haired girl tried to trip me—probably hoping to impress the blonde. I stepped over her foot without breaking stride. Petty.
Back at the balcony, Regina sat calmly, solving logic puzzles from a book of riddles. The moonlight made her golden hair glow with silver sheen.
Inside the hall, her father was deep in conversation with the Marquis who governed him. Politics never slept.
The silver moon overhead cast a serene light on the balcony—it looked saintly, perhaps the only righteous thing present tonight.
As we nibbled on meat pies and honeyed fruit, Regina casually asked about my abilities. One thing led to another, and I ended up telling her about the chess game.
Her reaction was unexpected.
She stared at me—first in surprise, then confusion, then… worry.
Before she could interrogate me further, a familiar voice interrupted.
"There you are, Regina. I've been looking for you," said Zoë Windsor, stepping onto the balcony like she owned it.
Her tone was sweet but sharp.
Behind her trailed the same noble entourage, all eyes gleaming with veiled mockery.
Regina's mood soured instantly. Still, she smiled—barely—and curtsied.
"Fine evening, Lady Zoë. To what do I owe the pleasure?"
Snickers from Zoë's girls.
"To what do I owe the pleasure?" Regina repeated, her voice tighter, knuckles whitening as she clenched her hands behind her.
Zoë only smiled wider. "Oh dear, it's your coming-of-age, isn't it? I wanted to personally congratulate you."
Then her eyes shifted to me. Those sapphire orbs flickered with amusement as she stepped closer.
"And is this your new maid?" she asked, fingers brushing a lock of my hair.
The way she said "maid" made my skin crawl.
After a pause, Regina replied, "Yes. She is a recent hire. Employed by my father."
Zoë nodded thoughtfully, then turned to Regina with a smile sharp enough to bleed.
"I see. May I borrow her for a moment?"
The entourage giggled behind her. Regina said nothing at first—her eyes unreadable. Anger, irritation, something else…
[Not good, the System chimed in, its tone clipped.]
Should I summon Paige?
I glanced at Regina, waiting.
She didn't move, but her grip on my wrist tightened—an anchor, a message. Stay still.
All this tension. All this venom in velvet. And not a single cleric in sight.
Oddly enough… the Church was absent.
And that, perhaps, was the most unsettling thing of all.