As I stepped out into the palace gardens, the air felt thick. The servants stared at me as I passed. At first, I assumed it was the dress—the soft pink was a far cry from my usual sharp, dark attire—but I soon realized I had made a massive misunderstanding.
"Did you hear?" one maid whispered, loud enough for the wind to carry. "They say Lady Ellington and the First Prince have been sharing a room."
"I heard it too," another hissed. "They say she pounced on him the moment she woke up."
Pounced on him? I felt a vein throb in my temple. Never.
I walked toward them, my voice dripping with icy venom. "I see... is there something interesting going on? Do share."
Their faces turned a ghostly pale. Good. That was the reaction I wanted.
"M-my Lady! We apologize!" They scrambled away like cockroaches.
I watched them go, my mind racing. Who had spread such a ridiculous rumor? Isabella. It had to be. If she was behind this attempt to ruin my reputation, I would make sure her downfall was twice as painful.
Lost in my thoughts, I wandered further into the palace grounds until I found myself near the training grounds. I was about to turn back when I heard it—the clash of steel. It wasn't the rhythmic, disciplined clicking of a practice session. It was intense. Violent. It sounded like two people trying to kill each other.
Curiosity got the better of me. I stepped around the corner, and my breath hitched.
It was Richt and Ceres.
They were fighting like demons. Ceres already had multiple cuts bleeding through his fine tunics, while Richt was a blur of aggressive, murderous energy.
Standing to the side was Dion, watching the spectacle with a bored expression, as if two princes slaughtering each other was merely a Tuesday afternoon. Is he even allowed to let this happen?
Then, I saw Isabella. She was running toward the center of the yard. Is she a fool? Does she want to be decapitated?
"Stop!" she screamed.
Neither prince spared her a glance.
"I said stop! Your Highness, you will hurt Prince Ceres!" She shouted at the top of her lungs, but the reaction was the same. They ignored her completely. Even Dion didn't look her way.
Watching her stand there, red-faced and humiliated as the men she wanted to impress treated her like a ghost... I couldn't help it. A small giggle escaped my lips. It wasn't loud—just a quiet, breathy sound—but in that tension-filled yard, it might as well have been a thunderclap.
The fighting stopped instantly.
Every head turned toward me. The smile was still dancing on my lips as my eyes met Richt's. I tilted my head, mocking him with my expression.
Richt stared at me, then suddenly slammed his head into a nearby stone pillar. Has he finally lost his mind?
"Your Highness, have you finally gone mad?" I asked, my cold mask sliding back into place.
"Were you... smiling?" he asked, his voice sounding strangled.
"You must be dreaming," I replied smoothly.
I looked past him. Isabella was shaking with rage, and Dion's expression was just as stunned as Richt's. Do I really look that different when I'm happy?
"Why is His Highness fighting with the Crown Prince?" I asked, changing the subject before the atmosphere got any weirder.
Richt's expression darkened instantly. "Ceres is denying what you told me."
"I didn't deny being there!" Ceres shouted, sounding utterly frustrated. He looked like he had been through a meat grinder. "I said I was there, but I had nothing to do with the kidnapping!"
I walked toward Ceres, my eyes boring into his. "Then why was Your Highness there at all?"
"I have been receiving reports of Black Magic," Ceres said, his voice dropping an octave. "I got a lead on a site, and I was there to investigate. I was discussing matters with my informants."
Black Magic? My heart stilled. I had sensed a strange, cold energy when my carriage was attacked, something that felt like rotting shadows. If Ceres was telling the truth, then there was a third party involved—someone who didn't just want me for my status, but for something else entirely.