The masquerade dwindled into whispers and shadows.
As the guests dispersed into the early hours of dawn, Serenya remained alert, every nerve on edge. The Queen's stare from across the ballroom still burned beneath her skin. The goblet. The starfruit. The unspoken challenge.
She hadn't touched them.
Now, back in her chambers, the silence was oppressive. Even the fire in the hearth seemed wary, its flames low and flickering, as if sensing the shift in the air.
A knock echoed.
Three slow taps—measured, precise.
Corvin opened the door, blade in hand. But the messenger on the other side only bowed and handed him a scroll marked with the royal crest—a flame coiled around a crown.
Corvin read it. His brows furrowed. "She's summoned you. Alone."
Serenya took the scroll, her fingers brushing the wax seal. "When?"
"Now."
—
The Queen's private sanctum was a place few ever entered.
Located at the highest tower of the palace, it was a chamber built not for comfort, but for power. The walls were carved with ancient symbols of dominion and bloodlines. Magic pulsed faintly beneath the stone, and the air was scented with star-lilies and crushed myrrh.
Queen Virelya Solmar stood at the window, staring down at the sleeping city. She wore no crown tonight—only a robe of black and silver, and a mask of stillness carved into her pale, perfect face.
"You refused my gift," she said, her voice like silk laced with steel.
"I don't eat fruit from thrones I haven't claimed," Serenya replied.
The Queen turned. Her lips curved—just barely. "Clever."
Serenya didn't flinch under her gaze. "You summoned me?"
"I wished to see for myself the girl who walked through the Trial Vault… and came out alive. Many burn from the inside out. Few understand the cost of holding the flame."
"You mean the cost of being Solmar."
Virelya's gaze sharpened. "No. The cost of being feared."
A silence stretched between them.
Then the Queen gestured to a seat. Serenya remained standing.
"You want me dead," Serenya said plainly.
"No," Virelya said. "If I wanted you dead, you'd never have reached the vault."
Serenya's jaw clenched. "Then what do you want?"
"I want to know what you'll become." The Queen stepped closer, eyes narrowing. "A threat? A pawn? A weapon I can shape? Or…"
"A queen," Serenya finished coldly.
The Queen didn't react. "So be it. Then let's test that ambition."
From her sleeve, Virelya produced a dagger—slim, elegant, forged from shadowed steel. She placed it gently on the table between them.
"This belonged to my mother," she said. "She used it to cut down those who called her unworthy."
Serenya didn't touch it.
The Queen leaned in. "In three nights, there will be a gathering of the high lords in the Court of Blades. I will introduce you. If you are wise, you'll say nothing. If you are bold, you'll speak."
"And if I speak wrongly?"
"Then your story ends where it began—in blood."
Serenya finally stepped forward and placed her fingers on the dagger. The hilt was cold, but it pulsed faintly with magic.
She looked the Queen in the eye. "Then I hope they're listening. Because I don't plan to be quiet."
Virelya tilted her head, assessing her. "You remind me of myself. Before the fire."
Serenya turned to leave. At the door, she paused.
"You were right," she said without looking back. "Fear is a cost."
"And so is mercy," the Queen said softly. "Don't spend too much of either."
The door closed behind her with a sound like judgment.
—
Outside, Kael waited in the shadows, arms folded.
"You're still breathing," he said. "That's a good sign."
"She gave me a dagger."
He raised an eyebrow. "Was it in your back?"
"No. Just a warning."
Kael smirked. "You're officially in the game now, Flameborn."
Serenya stared at the stars above the tower, her voice steady.
"I've been in it since the day I was born. I just didn't know the rules."