Chapter 4: The Mask of the Court
The grand ballroom of Evarra Palace shimmered under a thousand chandeliers. Crystal goblets clinked. Gold-threaded gowns rustled. Laughter danced through perfumed air, but underneath it all… there was silence.
Because Princess Elise Avantra had not smiled once.
Not even as she stood beside Prince Raynard of Merodia, her supposed future husband, whose silver armor gleamed far too perfectly—like a man with nothing to lose.
Her fingers curled tight around the stem of her goblet, knuckles pale.
"Your Highness," Raynard leaned in with a stiff smile. "You're not saying much tonight. Is the music not to your liking, or is it your company?"
Elise turned slowly, regal even in weariness. "The music is fine. But I've learned that some things are better said in silence."
His smile faltered, only for a moment.
From across the ballroom, Queen Alveria's eyes were locked on her daughter. Calculating. Cold. As if daring her to betray herself in front of a kingdom watching closely.
Meanwhile -in the dungeons below
Wiliam sat chained in the lowest cell, the stone walls soaked in damp and shadows. He had not spoken in days. Not because he lacked words—but because if he spoke, he feared he'd scream.
Scream her name.
Elise.
Her last words haunted him: "The Queen knows about us."
He had given everything to protect her. And now? His sword was taken. His name stained with treason. And all he had left was a memory and a promise.
A soft clink interrupted the silence. He looked up.
A cloaked figure appeared at the bars, face hidden.
"You're braver than I expected," the voice was male, sharp but curious.
Wiliam didn't respond.
"Tell me," the man said. "Is she worth a kingdom?"
Wiliam's eyes burned. "She's worth more than this kingdom."
The man chuckled. "Good. Then we might just be on the same side."
He tossed a small metal emblem into Wiliam's cell — the insignia of the Crimson Ravens, a secret faction long thought disbanded after the northern rebellion.
"We fight for broken oaths," the stranger said. "And you, Wiliam Riveras, are a symbol of the crown's first true crack."
Then he vanished.
Back in the ballroom
Elise stood near the edge of the balcony now, the cold night wind tugging at her veil. Below, she could see the outline of the eastern wing—the dungeon wing.
Her chest tightened.
"I've made a mistake," she whispered to herself.
"No," came a soft voice beside her.
It was Lady Seraphine, her childhood friend and trusted handmaiden. "You made a choice. And choice is more powerful than any throne."
Elise stared at the stars. "Then I must make another."
At midnight
Deep beneath the palace, Wiliam stared at the Crimson Raven emblem in his hand.
And above him, in her chamber, Elise pulled out an old book from her secret drawer. Inside, pressed between the pages, was a faded letter in Wiliam's handwriting.
She read it again. Not the words.
But the meaning:
"Even if this world burns, I will meet you again where roses bloom."
She turned toward her mirror. Her face was calm now. But her eyes were fire.