The next morning, I woke with a mix of excitement and nerves.
The note had been clear: the duchess wanted to see me an hour before the garden fête. No explanation. That meant it wasn't social—it was important. Possibly dangerous. Possibly an opportunity.
I dressed carefully in a soft green gown, understated but elegant, and braided my hair to keep it neat. Elizabeth would be radiant in lavender, and I didn't want to look childish by comparison—but I didn't want to outshine her either. The key was subtlety.
The duchess's chambers were at the end of a quiet corridor. My heart pounded as I approached, every creak of the floor underfoot sounding louder than it should.
A soft voice called out. "Enter."
I bowed, stepping inside. The duchess sat behind a large mahogany desk, sunlight spilling across her papers. She looked at me with sharp, calculating eyes that somehow managed to feel warm at the same time.
"Lady Isabella," she said, motioning for me to sit. "I hear you've taken quite an interest in the prince."
I smiled politely. "I only wish to make the most of the fête, Your Grace."
Her lips twitched in a half-smile. "You've been bold these past few days. Unusually so for someone in your position."
"Unusually?" I repeated, curious.
"Yes," she said, leaning back in her chair. "Most sisters in your role are content to fade into the background. They follow, observe, and wait for… opportunity. But you? You don't wait. You act."
I shrugged. "It's more interesting that way."
The duchess studied me for a long moment. "Indeed. And the prince has noticed. That is… dangerous."
I tilted my head. "Dangerous how?"
"Court politics," she said vaguely. "Envy, manipulation, rivalry… some rivals don't wait for social niceties." She leaned forward, her gaze sharp. "Elizabeth is ambitious. She has eyes on him, yes, but she has resources. Allies. People who will do exactly what she asks."
I swallowed, realizing she meant the chandelier incident—and the servants who whispered about me.
"You'll need to be careful," the duchess continued. "The difference between a clever sister and a foolish one is attention. Too much, or too little, and either can be disastrous."
I nodded, forcing calm. "I understand."
A faint smile crept onto her lips. "I've seen more than one young lady ruined by overconfidence—or by underestimating her rival." She leaned back again. "But perhaps you'll surprise us."
"Do you think I should?" I asked, curious despite the warning.
"I think," she said, "that if you are careful, you can do more than surprise us. You might even change… outcomes. But only if you remember who's watching—and who's waiting."
Her words lingered in the air like smoke. I didn't need to ask what she meant—Elizabeth. The prince. Everyone else in the court.
I rose, curtsying deeply. "Thank you, Your Grace. I will be careful."
"You may go," she said. "And remember: subtlety is power."
The hallway felt different on the way back. Heavier, but full of possibilities.
When I reached the garden for the fête, the air was alive with nobles in their finest attire, music floating across the manicured lawns. Elizabeth was already there, her smile dazzling, her every move radiating the confidence of someone used to winning.
I squared my shoulders.
It was time to see if my bold moves could truly hold up under scrutiny—or if Elizabeth would reclaim the stage like the perfect villainess she was.
The prince's gaze found me almost immediately, and this time, I didn't feel the faint tremor of nerves I usually would.
I was ready.
The game had begun.