The King's Castle was simply massive. From a distance, its sheer scale made the surrounding buildings look like dollhouses. Its marble towers rose like ivory spears into the sky, banners snapping in the cold air, gilded windows catching the silver wash of the moon. It wasn't a castle so much as a statement—stone carved into the shape of supremacy.
I tried not to stick my head out of the carriage window like an overexcited dog, but the temptation was real. The sheer immensity of it was overwhelming. This was the axis the entire kingdom spun on.
When we arrived, the palace grounds were already overflowing—dozens upon dozens of noble carriages lined the marble walkways, their liveried attendants glittering in silks and armor. Tonight was the year-end celebration. An opulent masquerade of politics and pageantry wrapped in royal tradition. Gold leaf and velvet stitched into masks to hide the fangs beneath.
As we stepped out, Regina's face became an impassive mask—emotionless, save for a politely empty smile. The Count and Rose wore different versions of the same expression: one weary, one predatory. I had been informed beforehand to stick to Regina like wax to a seal.
"Good evening, Your Majesty," Regina greeted, executing a perfect curtsy. Her gown pooled like green fire at her feet, hair catching the moonlight as though woven with silver threads.
The King, standing beside his son Timothy, gave her a polite nod in return. He was a broad man—shoulders heavy with both muscle and crown. The Prince, however, barely veiled his disdain. His eyes lingered on Regina with contempt, though he said nothing. A curled lip, a flicker of derision.
After exchanging greetings with the crowd of perfumed aristocrats, Regina excused herself. I followed, shadowing her across the crowded hall. The music swelled—a sweeping waltz—but Regina ignored it. She didn't dance, didn't bask in attention, didn't even stay long in the glittering throng. It was her coming-of-age celebration, yet she treated it like a chore.
We ended up on one of the balconies—thankfully empty, save for the pale moon and the hush of the night. The stone railing was cold under my palms, carved with lilies and lions. Below us, the city sprawled like a sea of stars.
Regina didn't speak. She leaned on the balustrade, staring out with a stillness that felt more like calculation than contemplation.
After some silence, I offered to fetch refreshments. I knew she wanted to eat but wouldn't admit it.
Inside, the banquet tables strained under the weight of excess—pastries piled like golden towers, glazed meats gleaming under candlelight, flaky tarts dusted with sugar, spiced lamb rolls steaming in the chill air. The System helpfully highlighted the best ones with faint glowing outlines. I filled a silver tray, balancing variety with caution.
That's when a voice sliced through the air.
"Well, would you look at that. The witch's little devil is here. Where's your mistress, hmm?"
I turned, instantly on edge.
A blonde noble girl stood with her entourage. Her hair was styled into a high braided bun adorned with sparkling ornaments. She wore a luxurious cerulean dress that matched her striking blue eyes—eyes that glittered with malice.
I didn't recognize her, but her aura screamed trouble.
"Good evening, Your Ladyship," I said calmly. "Lady Regina felt a little overwhelmed and stepped out for some air. I'm just bringing her some food."
The other girls snorted, clearly irritated by my composure. One of them, a black-haired girl, muttered something about "lowborn dogs in lace" under her breath.
"Not worth our gaze," the blonde scoffed. "Yet here you are, walking free like you belong."
I gave no response, simply bowed and turned away.
As I returned toward the balcony, the black-haired girl tried to trip me—probably hoping to impress the blonde. I stepped over her foot without breaking stride. Petty.
Back on the balcony, Regina sat calmly, solving logic puzzles from a book of riddles she'd hidden in her skirts. The moonlight made her golden hair glow with a silver sheen, a saint's halo woven from arrogance and shadow.
Inside the hall, her father was deep in conversation with the Marquis who governed him. Politics never slept—it sharpened its teeth on nights like this.
The silver moon overhead cast a serene light on the balcony—it looked saintly, perhaps the only righteous thing present tonight.
We nibbled on meat pies and honeyed fruit in silence until Regina casually asked about my abilities. One thing led to another, and I ended up telling her about the chess game. About pawns and queens, and how the System made the pieces move.
Her reaction was unexpected.
She stared at me—first in surprise, then confusion, then… worry. The kind of worry that wasn't fear of me, but fear of what I might attract.
Before she could interrogate me further, a familiar voice interrupted.
"There you are, Regina. I've been looking for you," said Zoë Windsor, stepping onto the balcony like she owned it.
Her tone was sweet but sharp, dripping with false warmth.
Behind her trailed the same noble entourage, all eyes gleaming with veiled mockery.
Regina's mood soured instantly. Still, she smiled—barely—and curtsied.
"Fine evening, Lady Zoë. To what do I owe the pleasure?"
Snickers from Zoë's girls.
"To what do I owe the pleasure?" Regina repeated, her voice tighter, knuckles whitening as she clenched her hands behind her back.
Zoë only smiled wider. "Oh dear, it's your coming-of-age, isn't it? I wanted to personally congratulate you."
Then her eyes shifted to me. Those sapphire orbs flickered with amusement as she stepped closer.
"And is this your new maid?" she asked, fingers brushing a lock of my hair.
The way she said maid made my skin crawl. Like she was testing the grain of a blade she intended to use.
After a pause, Regina replied, "Yes. She is a recent hire. Employed by my father."
Zoë nodded thoughtfully, then turned back to Regina with a smile sharp enough to bleed.
"I see. May I borrow her for a moment?"
The entourage giggled behind her, eager for a spectacle.
Regina said nothing at first—her eyes unreadable. Anger, irritation, something else… Something I couldn't name.
Not good, the System chimed in, its tone clipped.
Should I summon Paige? The thought pulsed in my chest like a heartbeat.
I glanced at Regina, waiting.
She didn't move, but her grip on my wrist tightened—an anchor, a message. Stay still.
All this tension. All this venom in velvet. And not a single cleric in sight.
Oddly enough… the Church was absent.
And that, perhaps, was the most unsettling thing of all.