The capital of Aurethia rose like a living monument beneath the morning sun.
Tall ivory walls encircled the city, engraved with ancient runes that shimmered faintly as the Valencrest carriage passed through the gates. Spires of noble estates stretched toward the sky, while at the city's heart stood two structures that dominated all others—
The Royal Palace.
And the Grand Cathedral.
Amelia felt her chest tighten.
Even without summoning her magic, she could feel it responding—drawn toward both places at once, as though torn between crown and faith.
"She's nervous," Countess Marianne murmured softly, squeezing her daughter's hand.
"I'm fine," Amelia replied, straightening her posture. "Just… aware."
Count Alaric studied the streets through the carriage window. "The capital is never neutral," he said quietly. "Remember that."
The carriage slowed as palace guards stepped forward.
Their armor gleamed. Their expressions did not.
The palace gates opened.
As Amelia stepped down from the carriage, dozens of eyes turned toward her at once.
Nobles paused mid-conversation. Ladies whispered behind silk fans. Courtiers measured her worth in a single glance.
So this is how judgment feels, Amelia thought.
A familiar voice cut through the tension.
"Lady Amelia!"
Prince Adrian approached, dressed in royal blue trimmed with gold. His smile was bright, reassuring—and unmistakably intentional.
"I had hoped I would be the first to welcome you," he said.
Amelia bowed. "Your Highness."
"Nonsense," he replied, offering his arm. "You are a guest of the palace. Allow me."
She hesitated only a moment before accepting.
From the palace steps above, a shadow shifted.
Duke Lucien Blackthorn watched in silence, red eyes unreadable.
Inside, the palace gleamed with excess.
Crystal chandeliers cast prismatic light over marble floors, and tapestries depicting ancient victories lined the walls. Yet beneath the splendor, Amelia sensed sharp calculation.
They are weighing me, she realized.
The Queen awaited them in the reception hall.
Queen Helena Aurelius was a woman of refined beauty, her smile delicate and practiced. Her gaze lingered on Amelia longer than courtesy required.
"So this is the Count's daughter," she said warmly. "You are even more striking than the rumors suggest."
"Your Majesty is gracious," Amelia replied.
The Queen's smile deepened. "I hear the Church has taken interest in you."
The words were gentle.
The meaning was not.
Before Amelia could respond, another voice entered.
"Interest is an understatement."
The Crown Prince Julian stepped forward, his expression cool. His eyes assessed Amelia not as a person—but as a variable.
"You have drawn attention you may not understand," he said. "Be careful not to mistake favor for safety."
Amelia met his gaze evenly. "I understand more than you assume, Your Highness."
A flicker of surprise crossed his face.
From the side of the hall, Duke Lucien spoke.
"She does."
The room stilled.
Julian's eyes narrowed. "Is that so, Duke Blackthorn?"
Lucien inclined his head slightly. "She is observant."
Prince Adrian glanced between them, his jaw tightening.
Queen Helena laughed lightly. "How fascinating. It seems Lady Amelia has already made an impression."
Amelia felt the unspoken truth settle heavily—
She was no longer invisible.
That afternoon, the noble ladies gathered in the eastern salon.
Amelia entered alone.
The chatter paused.
Then resumed—lower, sharper.
Lady Celestine Ravenshade rose from her seat, silver hair cascading over her shoulders, eyes gleaming with polite malice.
"Lady Amelia," she said sweetly. "How delightful to finally meet you."
Amelia inclined her head. "Lady Ravenshade."
Celestine's gaze swept over her dress, her posture, her expression.
"So modest," Celestine continued. "One wouldn't expect such… influence."
Several ladies laughed softly.
Amelia smiled faintly. "Influence often surprises those who rely on appearances."
The laughter died.
Celestine's smile hardened for just a moment.
"Well," she said smoothly, "I do hope the capital treats you kindly. It can be… unforgiving."
"I've noticed," Amelia replied.
Their eyes locked.
A silent war was declared.
As dusk fell, bells rang across the city.
From the highest balcony of the cathedral, Pope Seraphiel watched the palace lights flicker on.
"She has arrived," Cardinal Virex said behind him.
"Yes," Seraphiel replied quietly.
"And the signs?"
"They grow stronger."
The cardinal hesitated. "If she awakens fully—"
"The balance will change," Seraphiel finished.
His golden eyes reflected both palace and cathedral.
"And so will I."
That night, Amelia stood alone on the palace balcony, gazing over a city that now knew her name.
Behind her lay ambition, jealousy, devotion, and desire.
Ahead lay trials she had not yet imagined.
And somewhere within her—
Power waited to be claimed.