The morning sun rested gently over the royal gardens, where Princess Julia often spent her quiet hours. She sat beneath a canopy of trimmed vines, a cup of tea resting on the small marble table before her. Her maid stood close by, a small stack of envelopes in hand.
"Make sure these invitations are sent out before evening," Julia instructed, calm but deliberate. She glanced over the names on the list she had personally approved. "Every guest must receive theirs directly. No delays."
The maid bowed. "Yes, Your Highness."
Julia's gaze lingered on one envelope in particular. She tapped her finger lightly against it, then spoke with a faint, almost absent smile.
"And make certain one is sent to the Harrowind mansion."
The maid hesitated. It was not a usual choice. "To Lady Amelia, Your Highness?"
Julia nodded without shifting her expression. "Yes. Deliver it personally."
Before the maid could respond further, a quiet laugh broke the silence behind them.
"I see you've grown an interest in that girl," a male voice said, smooth yet edged with amusement.
Julia turned her head slightly, already knowing who it was. Prince Arthur, the second prince of the kingdom, strolled casually into the garden. His silver hair caught the light, giving him an almost cold brilliance, though his eyes carried a sharpness that could unsettle even seasoned courtiers. His demeanor was deceptively mild, but there was always something in the way he spoke—half-playful, half-threatening—that made people uneasy.
"Arthur," Julia said evenly, raising her cup to her lips. "I didn't hear you arrive."
"That is because you were too busy scheming," Arthur replied, pulling out the opposite chair without permission. He leaned back, crossing one leg over the other, and studied her with faint curiosity. "Tell me, what is it about Lady Amelia that draws your attention? She's barely been presented to court, and already you're singling her out."
Julia placed her teacup down with quiet precision. "It is not scheming. I simply find her… intriguing."
Arthur scoffed lightly, though his eyes sharpened. "Intriguing? Or troublesome? The nobles are already whispering after the incident at the coming-of-age ceremony. A girl nearly pushed from a balcony in front of half the kingdom—it makes for excellent gossip."
Julia's lips curved into the faintest smile. "Which is precisely why she interests me. Not many debutantes manage to cause such a stir without even trying."
Arthur tilted his head, watching her more intently. "Or perhaps you saw the way Lord Edwin caught her. Half the ladies swooned at that moment. I wouldn't be surprised if you did too."
Julia gave him a side glance, unamused. "Don't be ridiculous. I am not one of your gossiping court ladies."
Arthur chuckled, the sound low but carrying that same cutting edge. "No, you are not. But you're also not subtle, Julia. You have something in mind. And if it involves Amelia Harrowind, then I am curious."
Julia ignored the bite in his words and instead reached for the stack of invitations again. "Curiosity suits you, Arthur, but perhaps keep it from turning into interference."
Arthur leaned forward slightly, resting his elbow on the table, his silver hair falling against his cheek as he spoke in a quieter tone. "I interfere when it amuses me. And you, dear sister, amuse me often."
The maid, sensing the weight in their exchange, bowed quickly and excused herself with the invitations. Julia let her go without another word, keeping her gaze on Arthur.
"What exactly do you want?" she asked.
Arthur shrugged casually, but his smile was thin. "Only to watch. I like seeing where your games lead. You pull people into your little circles, and sometimes they come out broken. Sometimes… they surprise you."
Julia studied him carefully, but then her expression softened in a way that did not reach her eyes. "Then you may watch, Arthur. But remember—Amelia Harrowind is mine to handle."
Arthur laughed again, standing from his chair. His presence lingered like a chill even as he began to walk away. "Very well. But don't be too sure of yourself, Julia. Sometimes the pieces on the board have a will of their own."
He left her with those words, his figure disappearing behind the trimmed hedges of the garden.
Julia returned her attention to her tea, but her grip on the porcelain cup tightened slightly. The thought of Amelia Harrowind stirred something she could not yet name, but one thing was clear—this tea party would not be a simple gathering.
The morning meal at the Harrowind mansion was as quiet as it usually was. The clinking of cutlery against porcelain filled the silence while the Viscount read through some notes at the table. Lady Geneva sat beside him, sipping her tea delicately, her eyes occasionally glancing toward Amelia as though watching for some misstep. Celina, dressed neatly in pale lavender, looked unusually pleased with herself, speaking of little things from the household as if she had already won the attention of everyone present.
Amelia, seated across from her, kept her composure. She ate calmly, neither looking to her father nor to Lady Geneva. After last night's reflection, she had already decided that no matter how cold the atmosphere was at this table, she would not give them the satisfaction of seeing her unsettled.
Partway through the meal, a servant entered the dining hall carrying a silver tray. On it lay a sealed envelope with the royal crest pressed in crimson wax. The servant approached the table with practiced formality and bowed.
"An invitation has arrived from the palace, my lord," he announced.
At once, Celina's expression lit up. She set down her cutlery with a small clatter and rose from her chair, her lips already curving into a confident smile.
"Of course, it must be for me," she said, stretching her hand out to the tray. "The princess's gatherings are always selective. They know who to invite."
But the servant, without hesitation, stepped past her outstretched hand and placed the envelope directly before Amelia.
"An invitation for Lady Amelia Harrowind," he said clearly.
The room seemed to freeze for a moment. Celina's hand hung awkwardly in the air before she slowly drew it back, her smile stiffening into disbelief. Lady Geneva's eyes narrowed, though she said nothing at first. Even the Viscount lifted his head fully now, his gaze moving from Amelia to the sealed envelope as if the sight of it offended him.
Amelia looked at the envelope quietly. She had not expected this either. The weight of the royal crest pressed into wax carried a meaning that could not be ignored. She reached forward calmly and picked it up, her face unreadable.
Celina broke the silence first. "This… this must be some sort of mistake," she said sharply. "It is always me who receives the invitations. Always. Why would they suddenly send one to her?"
The Viscount's brow furrowed. "Celina," he said curtly, his tone firm in a way that silenced her momentarily. "Sit down."
"But father—"
"Sit," he repeated, his voice leaving no room for argument.
Celina sat back down, her movements stiff, though her eyes blazed with anger as they darted toward Amelia.
Amelia did not meet her gaze. She slid the envelope onto her lap and let her fingers trace the crest thoughtfully. The choice was deliberate. Princess Julia had decided to send the invitation to her instead of Celina, and that was not something her stepmother's family could ignore, no matter how much it irritated them.