The great hall shimmered in a whirl of gold, crystal, and silk. Laughter rang through the air, threaded with the tense undercurrent of unspoken threats. Charlotte moved through the crowd with practiced grace—a vision of royalty, regal and radiant, with just the barest glint of mischief in her eyes.
At her side, Eladin looked like he'd swallowed a thundercloud, his eyes darting nervously from lord to lady and back again.
Charlotte leaned in, voice low and teasing.Charlotte: "Relax, brother. If anyone tries to poison the punch, I'll just make sure they're the first to taste it."
Eladin didn't look reassured. Mira, silent and sharp-eyed as ever, nodded once—her gaze flicking toward the entrance where the Vellador faction had begun to gather like crows.
The feast opened in full pomp: a parade of platters so elaborate they could've fed a small army twice over. Silver goblets clinked. Wine shimmered like liquid jewels beneath candlelight.
Lord Averic sidled up to Charlotte with a bow and a skeptical arch of the brow.Lord Averic: "Your Highness, surely you don't mean to let this feast continue as if nothing were amiss?"
Charlotte raised her glass with a fluid flourish, smiling like a cat who had already eaten the canary.Charlotte: "Oh, Lord Averic, this banquet is the move. Wars are not always won with blades. Sometimes, all it takes is wit… and a well-placed jest."
Behind her, Eladin muttered under his breath.Eladin: "I'd rather catch them before they strike."
Charlotte turned to him, eyes gleaming.Charlotte: "Patience, dear brother. The feast is a stage—and tonight, the players don't even realize the script has been rewritten."
The evening unfolded like a game of chess. Charlotte's court moved with precision—Mira slipping through guests like a shadow, offering subtle signs; Elias lingered near the fringes, calm, controlled, and calculating.
Then, the spark: A Vellador lord—flushed from drink and puffed with his own self-importance—lifted his goblet in a toast. His eyes slid to Charlotte, his voice laced with thinly veiled venom.Vellador Lord: "To the future queen. May her reign be short—and her desserts even shorter."
Gasps rippled across the hall. Charlotte didn't flinch. She raised her glass and replied, voice ringing clear.Charlotte: "To unexpected sweetness in dark times—and to the fools who underestimate the baker."
She took a sip, then gave a subtle nod to a nearby servant.
A tray was brought forth from the kitchens—small, gleaming pastries dusted with shimmering powder that caught the candlelight like magic.
Charlotte: "Please, enjoy. A new recipe I've had tested. Sweet… with just a hint of spice."
The Vellador lord chuckled, taking one. Across the hall, guests followed. Whispers rose—curious, amused—but no one stopped eating.
Moments later, the lord's eyes began to water. His breath hitched.Vellador Lord: "Sorcery? Pepper? Chili?"
Laughter burst from Charlotte and her companions.Charlotte: "No sorcery, my lord. Just a reminder that even sweetness can bite."
The hall hummed with energy. Conversations shifted. Allies whispered behind fans and goblets. The Vellador faction recoiled, fumbling to recover their footing.
Eladin leaned close to Mira, voice low.Eladin: "When do we strike?"
Mira's rare smile curved like the edge of a blade.Mira: "Strike? No. Tonight… we dance. The true battle is who controls the story when the music ends."
Charlotte stepped forward, raising her voice—not shouting, but enough to capture the hall's attention.
Charlotte: "Tonight, we dine—not because we are safe, but because we are unbroken. Let it be remembered: the strength of a kingdom lies not in fear, but in resilience. And yes… in good cake."
Cheers rose around her, a fleeting truce sealed in laughter and lifted glasses.
But even as she smiled, Charlotte knew—the night was far from over.The true game had just begun.
And she was ready.