The throne room was louder than usual.
Laughter echoed too easily, courtiers grinned too widely, and nobles shifted in their seats with an eagerness that reeked of performance. As though the entire court had been rehearsing joy, trying to mask the stench of something rotten beneath.
Aveline entered with slow, deliberate steps, dressed in crimson silk embroidered with golden serpents. The color of danger. The color of defiance.
The Queen raised a brow from her elevated seat, lips twitching in amusement. "You're rather… bold today, Lady Aveline."
"Only matching the mood of the court, Your Majesty," Aveline replied smoothly. "Boldness seems to be in fashion."
The courtiers laughed—some too loudly, others with just enough hesitation to betray their discomfort. Aveline didn't care. She wasn't here to entertain. She was here to listen. To watch. To strike if needed.
Her gaze drifted, scanning the sea of silk and powdered faces.
Then she saw him.
Lucien.
Leaning against a column near the back, half in shadow, his eyes locked with hers.
And he smiled—just enough to tell her he'd seen what she wore, how she walked, and what she was doing.
Good, his gaze seemed to say. Let them know who you are.
She took her seat just as the herald announced the arrival of a visiting duke—a minor noble, insignificant to most.
But Aveline had heard the rumors.
This man had once been a patron of the academy… the same one where her former fiancé had studied dark enchantments. And he'd come uninvited.
The Queen smiled graciously. The King remained silent.
But Aveline narrowed her eyes.
Because this was no visit.
This was a move.
And she was done playing by someone else's rules.
The visiting duke, a lean man with a polished cane and silver hair that gleamed like ice, bowed low before the thrones.
"Your Majesties," he greeted, voice smooth as aged wine. "It is an honor to stand once again in this hallowed court. I come bearing gifts—and perhaps, opportunities."
Aveline didn't move. But inside, her thoughts turned sharp.
Opportunities for whom? And at what cost?
The Queen offered her signature half-smile. "Duke Marcerin, it's been some time. We did not expect you."
"No," the King added, his tone cool. "We didn't."
Marcerin's eyes sparkled, unfazed. "That makes the pleasure of my visit all the more sincere, I hope. I bring word from the Northern Reaches, and… I was hoping to reacquaint myself with some of your most promising court figures." His gaze slid pointedly to Aveline.
Every head turned toward her.
Aveline did not rise.
"I wasn't aware I required reacquainting, Duke," she said lightly. "Last I checked, we'd never met."
He chuckled. "True, my lady. But your reputation precedes you."
She smiled coldly. "Reputations tend to exaggerate. Best not to rely too heavily on them."
Lucien shifted slightly at the back. His arms folded. Watching.
Marcerin's lips twitched, and Aveline saw it for what it was: the spark of a challenge.
"I've heard you're fond of strategy, Lady Aveline," he said. "Perhaps we might share a game of chess while I'm in the city."
Aveline tilted her head, voice syrup-sweet. "Of course. I always enjoy dismantling overconfident players."
The court laughed again—but this time, it was more nervous.
Because it was no longer entertainment.
It was war with words.
And only one of them would walk away uncut.
Later that afternoon, Aveline was summoned to a private salon overlooking the gardens. Sunlight streamed through stained glass, painting her silhouette in fractured gold and rose.
The door opened.
Duke Marcerin stepped in, alone. No attendants. No guards.
Bold.
"I was beginning to wonder if you'd accept my invitation," he said.
"I almost didn't," Aveline replied, pouring herself a cup of tea. She didn't offer him any. "But curiosity is a tempting mistress."
Marcerin approached slowly. "I appreciate direct women. They tend to play the most dangerous games."
Aveline took a sip, calm as ever. "And you enjoy danger?"
He smirked. "I make my fortune in it."
They circled each other with words.
"I've heard the North has become… unstable," she said lightly. "Rebellions, droughts, missing caravans. Yet you arrive here with gifts and charm. Why?"
Marcerin's eyes sharpened. "Because the game has changed. The tides are shifting. And I prefer to back the right pieces before the board collapses."
"Is that what I am to you?" Aveline asked. "A piece to wager?"
"No," he murmured. "You are the queen. And you've just started moving."
There was a long silence between them.
Then she rose slowly, her gown whispering like silk blades. She approached until there was only inches between them.
"Careful, Duke," she said, voice low. "I don't play fair. And I never forget a threat."
He didn't flinch. "Good. Neither do I."