The knock came again.
Soft. Polite.
The kind of knock meant for a princess who was expected to obey.
Aelira did not answer immediately.
She sat on the edge of the bed, fingers curled into the fabric of her nightgown, grounding herself. The warmth in her chest still lingered—quiet now, but watchful. Waiting.
"I'm awake," she said at last.
The door creaked open.
Mara stepped inside, her long brown hair tied neatly behind her back, eyes filled with the same cautious kindness Aelira remembered all too well. In her first life, Mara had been one of the few servants who treated her like a human being.
In the end, Mara had vanished.
Probably executed. Or worse.
Aelira's jaw tightened.
"Good morning, Your Highness," Mara said with a small smile. "You slept through the bell. I was worried."
Worried.
That single word twisted something sharp in Aelira's chest.
"I'm fine," Aelira replied calmly. Too calmly for a sixteen-year-old girl who had been known for her gentle nature.
Mara hesitated. "Are you feeling unwell? The royal physician—"
"No."
The word came out cold.
Mara flinched.
Aelira forced her expression to soften. She couldn't afford suspicion yet.
"I just… had a strange dream," she said quietly.
A lie. The first of many.
Mara nodded, visibly relieved. "Today is important, Your Highness. The Queen has requested your presence in the throne hall."
Of course she has.
Aelira stood.
The moment her bare feet touched the floor, the warmth in her chest stirred again—restless, irritated. The shadows beneath the furniture stretched unnaturally, recoiling from her movement.
She noticed.
She said nothing.
⸻
The throne hall had not changed.
Towering marble pillars. Gold-inlaid floors polished to perfection. Sunlight filtered through stained-glass windows depicting heroic kings and obedient queens.
Lies painted in color.
Aelira walked alone.
No escort. No guard.
Even as a princess, she had always been an afterthought.
At the far end of the hall, Queen Seraphine sat beside the king, her posture elegant, her smile gentle enough to deceive an entire kingdom.
The woman who would later sign Aelira's death warrant.
"Aelira," the queen said sweetly. "Come closer, child."
Child.
Aelira lowered her head and approached, every step measured. Controlled.
"Yes, Your Majesty."
The queen's eyes swept over her like a blade hidden in silk. "We heard you collapsed during yesterday's magic aptitude examination."
So this is about that.
"I did not collapse," Aelira replied. "I felt faint."
The king frowned. "You have never shown any affinity for magic. Are you hiding something from us?"
Aelira met his gaze.
In her first life, this had been the moment everything began to go wrong.
She remembered the whispers.
The rumors.
The disappointment.
"I have no magic," she said evenly.
It was not a lie.
Not yet.
The queen's smile widened—just a fraction. "How unfortunate. In a kingdom ruled by magic, a powerless princess is… difficult to place."
Difficult to control, you mean.
"We will repeat the test," the queen continued. "Tonight. Privately."
Aelira's blood ran cold.
Private tests were never gentle. Never clean.
"As you wish," Aelira said, bowing her head.
But inside—
She smiled.