Fourth Arc (Thorns of The Black Throne) - 446. Gilded Snake in Silk Skirts
They sat like that for a moment, the silence full but not heavy.
"I should hate Euphorion and Zephyrus," Jane said softly. "It's always been Pontus's rival. My stepmother called it a 'gilded snake in silk skirts.' And she warned us to never trust a Heart."
"She wasn't entirely wrong," Rose said, smiling. "I am a snake. I just prefer velvet to silk."
Jane snorted. "Of course you do."
They shared a small laugh—one of those reluctant ones. It came out tired and crooked, but real.
"Do you really think they can be saved?" Jane asked. "My father. My brother. It's been so long."
"I do," Rose said. "I've seen what dark enchantment can do. I've also seen what it takes to undo it. And I don't believe they were fully gone. If they were, she wouldn't need to keep them so tightly under her leash."
"…You think they remember me?"
Rose tilted her head. "You remember them. That's enough. Magic always clings to intent. We'll make a plan."
Jane bit her lip. She looked out the window again.
"I just… don't want to end up used again," she whispered. "I don't want to be a political pawn. Or worse—some tragic tool you drag through a treaty negotiation just to get a signature."
Rose stood up and walked to her.
She bent slightly, lowering her voice to a hush. "You're not a pawn, Jane. You're a Princess. One who deserves the choice to reclaim what's hers. Not because I say so. Not because Angel says so. But because you want to."
Jane looked up at her, uncertain. Her eyes shimmered.
"And if I don't want to?"
"Then we burn every document," Rose said. "Seal the passage. Destroy the name. You'll stay here. You'll live in peace. And we'll tell no one."
A breeze caught Rose's hair, scattering a lock across her cheek.
Jane reached up and brushed it aside.
That was new. The contact. The trust.
"…I don't want peace," Jane whispered. "I want truth."
Rose smiled. "Then we'll find it."
The words hung in the garden like jasmine smoke, delicate and sharp.
Then—
" Can I… complained?" Jane exhaled, let her shoulders relax, and glanced down at the crumbs left on her saucer. "I'm bored out of my mind."
Rose blinked, taken off guard. "What?"
"I mean it," Jane said, a little sheepish. "I've been here for a while now. I've strolled through the gardens, sat through polite dinners, eaten pastries until I started naming them. I even organized my closet by color, season, and moral alignment."
"…Moral alignment?" Rose choked on a laugh.
Jane grinned. "Yeah. You've got your rebellious-reds. Your innocent-whites. Mysterious-greys. The kind of cloak you'd wear if you were going to wear based on events and parties."
Rose covered her mouth, laughing now for real. "Oh gods. You are bored."
"I'm losing my mind," Jane admitted, dragging her fingers down her face. "I used to sweep the tavern floors back in the village. Help prep vegetables. Fix the porch when it creaked. Do laundry with the other girls while we gossiped about who stole Farmer Eli's rooster again. I may be a princess by blood, but I've been a peasant in practice. Now I just… float."
Rose tilted her head, amused but thoughtful.
"I mean it," Jane continued, voice softer now. "I know I can't be seen too often. I can't go to the noble parties or people will start whispering. And I get why I shouldn't be touching official documents either—I'm a political hot potato wrapped in velvet, basically."
"Well put," Rose murmured, sipping from her tea.
"But still. Is there anything I can do?" Jane leaned forward, earnest now. "Something that isn't dangerous, that won't mess up your position, or out me to the whole court? Just… something useful. I hate feeling like I'm just taking up space."
Rose glanced toward the arched doorway that led back inside.
Claire was just rounding the corner with a tray of cool apricot tea and fresh herb cookies. She raised a brow when she saw the look on Rose's face—half puzzled, half impressed.
"…That's hard," Rose admitted after a moment. "Because you're right. Too many eyes on you is a problem."
Jane deflated, slumping into the garden bench again as Claire placed the tray down.
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