The change was subtle at first. A lingering glance. A lowered bow. The silence that stretched a fraction too long whenever Sophie entered a room.
She noticed it the very next morning, when Eira helped her into a fresh gown and ushered her toward the grand hall for breakfast. The guards at her door—men she'd passed dozens of times before—straightened as though their spines were suddenly made of steel. They didn't just nod in acknowledgment. They saluted.
"Did you see that?" Sophie whispered to Eira once they were beyond earshot.
Her handmaiden pretended to smooth the folds of her gown. "I did, my lady."
Sophie's skin prickled. My lady. She had heard the title before, but there was weight in it now, as if everyone had agreed on a new unspoken rule overnight.
The hallways were busier than usual. Servants scurried with trays, courtiers lingered in the alcoves pretending to chat, and everywhere Sophie turned, she felt eyes on her. Some were curious. Others calculating. A few—hostile.
At breakfast, the change was even clearer. Usually, only a handful of nobles attended, arriving late, yawning through polite chatter. Today the long table was nearly full. Everyone rose as she entered, their gazes trained on her like arrows.
Sophie froze, caught off guard by the sudden attention. She forced herself forward, chin lifted, heart hammering. Eira guided her to her seat.
Whispers fluttered like moths across the hall.
"She truly does resemble her…"
"Could it be?"
"The king would never—unless…"
The murmurs stopped the moment Alexander entered. His presence cut through the air like a blade. He swept down the table with his usual cold grace, every step deliberate. His gaze flickered toward Sophie—sharp, unreadable—before he took his seat at the head of the table.
Breakfast passed in a blur. Sophie hardly tasted the food; her appetite shriveled under the weight of so many stares. She kept her expression carefully neutral, but inside she churned with questions.
When the nobles finally dispersed, she pulled Eira aside in the hallway. "What did he tell them?" Sophie hissed. "Something's changed."
Eira's lips pressed into a thin line. She hesitated, then leaned closer. "His Majesty addressed the council yesterday. He spoke of… the queen."
Sophie's pulse spiked. "Seraphina?"
"No." Eira's eyes darted around to make sure no one was listening. "He spoke of you. He did not name you outright, but he told them that the realm would soon have reason to place their faith in its queen again. He said the blood of destiny cannot be denied."
Sophie staggered back a step, shock freezing her in place. He told them? He—
"He's making them look at me," she whispered. "He's putting me in her place."
Eira nodded grimly. "Yes. And now… everyone believes you have his favor. Some will try to court you. Others may resent you. This is how it begins."
The day confirmed Eira's warning. As Sophie moved through the palace, nobles who had once ignored her suddenly bowed low, offering honeyed words. A lady of the court pressed a jeweled hand to Sophie's arm, murmuring about how radiant she looked. A lord she didn't even know offered to escort her to the gardens.
The flattery felt like a trap. Every smile was too sharp, every bow too deep. And beneath it all was the shadow of Seraphina—the real queen whose absence still hung over the palace like a storm cloud.
By the time Sophie returned to her chambers, she was drained. She collapsed into a chair, massaging her temples.
"This isn't good," she muttered. "He's using me. He wants them to see me as her replacement."
Eira poured tea with steady hands, though Sophie saw tension in her face. "Perhaps he wants to protect you," she suggested gently. "If the nobles believe you have his blessing, fewer will dare challenge you."
Sophie let out a humorless laugh. "Or maybe he wants to see who does. Either way, I'm bait."
Eira didn't deny it.
As night fell, Sophie stood by the window, staring out at the lanterns glowing in the courtyards. Her reflection stared back at her in the glass—draped in silks, her hair braided like royalty. She looked like she belonged.
But she didn't.
She clenched her fists. I didn't ask for this. I didn't ask to be paraded like some pawn in his political game.
And yet… part of her couldn't shake the memory of Alexander's words at dinner, the way he'd spoken of loyalty and destiny. Part of her wondered if he truly believed she was meant to be here.
She thought of his eyes on her that morning—sharp, watchful, but not cruel. Not entirely.
"Eira," Sophie whispered, her voice trembling with a mix of fear and defiance, "we have to keep searching. If he's going to use me like this, then I need to know everything. About Seraphina. About the prophecy. About why I was brought here."
Eira's gaze softened, but she nodded firmly. "Then we'll continue. Carefully. Because if His Majesty is setting you on the board…"
"…then we'd better learn the rules before he checkmates us," Sophie finished bitterly.
Outside, the palace glowed with firelight. Inside, the game had changed. Sophie could feel it in the way every hallway carried whispers of her name. She was no longer invisible.
She was the queen they wanted.
Or the imposter they would one day burn.
And Alexander had placed her in the center of it all.