Aria's POV
The guards' hands are like iron around my arms as they drag me through the palace halls.
"Please!" I'm begging now, not caring how pathetic I sound. "You have to believe me! I didn't poison anyone!"
"Shut up," one guard growls.
They throw me into a cold stone room and slam the door. I hear the lock click. My knees hit the floor hard, and pain shoots through my legs, but I barely feel it. Nothing physical can hurt worse than what just happened.
Damien kissed Vivienne.
At our engagement party.
After destroying my entire life.
I curl into a ball on the floor and let myself cry. Really cry. The kind of crying that makes your whole body shake and your throat hurt. The kind that comes from somewhere so deep inside you didn't know it existed.
How did this happen? When did they plan this? How long has Damien been lying to me?
The door crashes open. I look up, hoping maybe—maybe—Damien came to say this was all a mistake.
It's Vivienne.
She's alone, and the sweet crying act is gone. She's smiling. Actually smiling.
"Get up," she says. "You look pathetic down there."
I stand slowly, wiping my face. "Why are you doing this?"
"Why?" She laughs, and it's the ugliest sound I've ever heard. "Because you don't deserve any of it, Aria. The nice room. Father's love. The respect. You have no magic. You're useless. But everyone always felt sorry for poor little Aria." She says my name like it tastes bad. "Even Damien felt sorry for you. At first."
My chest tightens. "What do you mean 'at first'?"
"He was going to marry you out of pity," Vivienne says, examining her nails like we're discussing the weather. "Can you imagine? The great Commander stuck with a magicless nobody. I did him a favor. I showed him what real power looks like. What a real woman looks like."
"You've been planning this for months," I whisper, pieces clicking together. "The ruined dress. The strange looks. The way you kept visiting Damien for 'training sessions.'"
"Six months, actually." She grins. "It was so easy. Damien wanted power and status. I wanted him. Mother wanted your father's position and money. We all got what we wanted." She steps closer. "Except you. You get nothing. Just like you deserve."
Rage burns through me—hot and fierce. Before I can think, I slap her.
The crack echoes in the small room.
Vivienne's head snaps to the side. For a second, we both freeze. Then she touches her red cheek and smiles even wider.
"Thank you," she says sweetly. "Now I have another reason to make this worse."
She screams. Loud and high-pitched. "GUARDS! HELP! SHE'S ATTACKING ME!"
The door bursts open. Guards flood in, grabbing me again even though I'm not fighting. Vivienne is crying those fake tears, holding her cheek.
"She tried to hurt me!" Vivienne sobs. "She's completely insane!"
"I barely touched her!" I shout, but they're not listening. They never listen.
They drag me down more hallways. We're going somewhere else now—somewhere that makes the guards look uncomfortable. We stop in front of huge wooden doors. The judgment hall.
Inside, the entire court is assembled. The Chancellor sits in the high seat. Stepmother Celeste stands to one side, looking grave and sad. Damien stands beside her, his face blank like I'm a stranger.
Maybe I always was.
"Bring her forward," the Chancellor commands.
They push me into the center of the room. Everyone stares. I recognize faces—people I've helped heal, people I've served at dinners, people I've smiled at for years. None of them look friendly now. They look hungry for drama. For punishment. For someone to blame.
"Aria Thornwell," the Chancellor's voice booms. "You have been accused of the gravest crimes. Poisoning our beloved Queen. Practicing dark magic. Fraud and deception. How do you plead?"
"Not guilty!" My voice cracks. "I would never hurt the Queen! I've dedicated my life to healing!"
"Healing?" Someone in the crowd laughs. "You don't even have magic!"
Others join in. The laughter spreads like disease.
"SILENCE!" The Chancellor raises his hand. "We will hear the evidence. Lady Celeste, present your findings."
Stepmother steps forward, carrying a wooden box. "Your Honor, I discovered these items hidden in Aria's chambers." She opens the box. Inside are vials of dark liquid, herbs I've never seen, and journals covered in handwriting that looks like mine but isn't quite right.
"These journals detail how to create slow-acting poisons," Celeste says, her voice trembling with fake emotion. "How to make someone sick gradually so no one suspects. The Queen's illness matches these symptoms exactly."
"That's not my handwriting!" I scream. "Someone copied it! Someone's framing me!"
"We also have witnesses," Celeste continues, ignoring me. "Guards, bring them in."
Three servants enter. I recognize them—they all work for Celeste. They won't look at me.
"Tell the court what you saw," the Chancellor orders.
The first servant, an older woman named Martha who I've known for years, speaks quietly. "I saw Miss Aria entering the Queen's chambers late at night. Multiple times. She said she was checking on Her Majesty, but she looked... suspicious."
"Martha, no!" I gasp. "You know I was helping the Queen's personal healer! He asked me to check on her!"
But Martha won't meet my eyes.
The second servant, a young man, says he saw me mixing strange potions in the kitchen. The third claims she found the poison vials under my bed.
All lies. All carefully planned lies.
"This is insane!" I turn to face the whole court. "Why would I poison the Queen? What would I gain?"
"Attention," Damien says coldly. He finally speaks, and his voice cuts through me like a knife. "You wanted people to think you had real healing magic. You made the Queen sick so you could pretend to cure her. When that didn't work fast enough, you got desperate."
"That's not true! Damien, you know me—"
"I thought I did." He looks at me with disgust. "But Lady Vivienne showed me who you really are. A jealous, powerless girl willing to hurt innocent people to feel important."
Vivienne appears beside him, her hand sliding into his. She leans against his shoulder, and he puts his arm around her. Protecting her. Comforting her.
The way he used to do with me.
Something breaks inside me. Not my heart—that already broke. Something deeper. The part of me that hoped this could be fixed. The part that believed people were good.
"I strip Aria Thornwell of her family name," Celeste announces dramatically. "She is no daughter of mine."
"And I officially end our engagement," Damien adds. "I choose Lady Vivienne as my betrothed instead. A woman of true power and honor."
The crowd cheers. Actually cheers while my world ends.
"The sentence," the Chancellor says, "for attempted murder of royalty is death."
My legs go weak.
"However," he continues, "Lady Celeste has requested mercy. Therefore, Aria Thornwell will be exiled to Frostveil at dawn."
The cheering stops. Gasps fill the room. Someone whispers "That's worse than death."
They're right. Frostveil is the frozen wasteland at the edge of the world. Where the cursed Ice Prince killed his own kingdom. Where winter never ends and nothing survives.
No one comes back from Frostveil.
"Please," I whisper one last time. "Please don't do this."
But Celeste is smiling. Vivienne is smiling. Damien won't even look at me anymore.
"Take her to the exile chamber," the Chancellor orders. "At first light, she will be escorted to the border and released into Frostveil territory. May the gods have mercy on her soul."
As the guards drag me away, I hear Vivienne's voice, sweet as poison: "Don't worry, sister. Where you're going, you'll freeze to death long before you can cause any more trouble."
The doors slam shut behind me.
And I realize with horrible clarity: they're not just exiling me.
They're sending me to die slowly, where no one will ever find my body.