The orchestra's melody waned into a softer refrain. The kind that lingered between moments, holding breath and silence alike.
Elara and Kaelion turned in unison, their movements smooth and wordless. Yet, as the music neared its end, Kaelion leaned closer, his voice barely above a murmur.
"Seems something has already reached you, Your Highness."
Elara blinked, brows knitting in confusion. "Reached me? What do you mean?"
A soft chuckle escaped him, quiet but full of hidden meaning. "Ah… perhaps it hasn't been delivered yet. No wonder you haven't worn it."
Her lips parted slightly, puzzled. "Worn… what, exactly?"
Kaelion only smiled. A faint, knowing curve of his lips, before guiding her into the dance's final turn.
As the last note echoed through the hall, he released her hand gently, bowing low.
"It was a pleasure dancing with you, Crown Princess Elara."
The title struck like a whisper from another life.
Crown Princess.
So rarely had she heard it spoken. Not even from Adrienne in her previous lives, only during events, sometimes forgotten. For a fleeting moment, the formality wrapped around her like ice and warmth at once.
She inclined her head gracefully. "The honor is mine, Your Highness."
Kaelion's eyes softened, as though reading the storm behind her calm facade, but he said nothing more.
Elara returned to her seat beside Adrienne, every step echoing faintly against the marble floor.
The murmur of conversation had resumed; the tension of the dance dissolved into polite applause.
Adrienne leaned slightly toward her. "You handled that well," he said quietly, though his tone held more restraint than praise.
"Thank you,"she replied. Then, noticing her reflection faintly in the polished silver before her, she frowned. "It seems my makeup has smudged. I'll just go to the restroom for a moment."
Adrienne's expression tightened. "Bring a knight with you," he said, tone firm but low. "There are too many people tonight, I don't want any chances."
She offered a faint, assuring smile. "It's only for a moment, Your Highness. I'll be right back."
His jaw flexed. For a heartbeat, he looked as though he might insist, but then he exhaled slowly, letting her go. "Be quick."
Elara rose, her gown whispering across the floor as she slipped through the ornate archways and into the dimmer corridor.
The ballroom's glow faded behind her, replaced by quiet footsteps and the faint hum of torches.
Inside the grand restroom, her reflection met her. Flawless still, save for a faint smudge near her cheek. She was dabbing it gently when the door opened.
Two figures entered. Seraphine and Mirielle, their laughter light, yet edged like crystal.
"Oh, if it isn't Her Radiance herself," Seraphine drawled, her voice dripping honey and poison alike.
"How does it feel, Elara, having two princes vying for your attention in one night?" Mirielle said mockingly.
Elara stilled, meeting her gaze calmly in the mirror. "I wouldn't call diplomacy vying, Mirielle. But I'm sure you'd know more about that kind of pursuit."
Mirielle smirked. "Touché."
"But really,"Seraphine interjected, her tone dripping with false sweetness, "how fortunate you are. Must be nice to finally get attention from someone. I suppose it's… compensation for all those years you were ignored at home, isn't it?"
Her laugh followed. Sharp, cold, and laced with cruelty. "Oh, come now. Don't look so offended. We're only saying what everyone's thinking. The poor, forgotten daughter, suddenly paraded as a crown jewel. How poetic."
Elara turned to face them fully then, her voice steady, her eyes unwavering. "If you find poetry in my life, perhaps you should write about your own instead. You might find something worth admiring."
The air tightened. Seraphine's smile faltered. Only slightly, before she brushed invisible dust from her sleeve. "Careful, Elara. Words have a way of echoing back."
"Only if they carry truth," Elara replied softly. She turned back toward the mirror, then began walking toward the door, feeling suffocated by the tension in the room.
The two nobles exchanged a look, their amusement cooling into irritation. But before either could retort, the chandeliers above flickered. Once, twice, then the world went black.
A collective gasp echoed from somewhere beyond the door. The air shifted, heavy and silent.
Mirielle's voice broke through the darkness. "What in the heavens—?"
The lights returned after what felt like an eternity. The chandeliers flickered alive again, casting fractured brilliance across the marble.
Seraphine and Mirielle stood near the door, pale and startled. "Power failure," Mirielle muttered, shaking her head. "What a dreadful inconvenience."
Elara, however, was gone.
Back in the ballroom, Adrienne's gaze snapped upward the moment the lights dimmed. A ripple of unease ran through the guests, but laughter soon followed, nobles brushing it off as a minor interruption.
The Crown Prince did not laugh.
He rose slowly from his seat, eyes sharp as he gestured toward a nearby knight. "Go to the ladies' restroom, discreetly. Find Elara, and ensure everything's in order."
The knight saluted and hurried off. Adrienne sat back down, forcing his features into a calm mask. But inside, dread clawed its way up his throat.
He couldn't shake the uneasy feeling, the dream that always haunted him.
When the knight returned moments later, she bowed low. "Your Highness, there's no sign of the Crown Princess. Only Lady Seraphine and Lady Mirielle were there when I arrived."
Adrienne's blood turned to ice. "Search the west wing,"he ordered under his breath. "Quietly. Take your unit, now."
The knight hesitated. "Your Highness… has something happened to Her Highness?"
"Search," Adrienne said, voice sharp as glass. "Now."
The knight moved.
Kaelion's gaze, from across the hall, flicked toward the sudden movement. The whisper of orders passed between guards, the faint tightening in Adrienne's jaw.
Empress Auriel, noticing the shift, leaned slightly toward her husband. "Sol — where's the Crown Princess? She's been gone quite a while."
Emperor Solarian's golden eyes glinted. "You feel it too."
Kaelion rose quietly from his chair, gaze sweeping toward the shadowed corridor. A flicker, faint, but certain, crossed his face.
Something was wrong.
He turned his head slightly, catching the low hum of unease that threaded through the air. His pulse quickened, and a single thought crystallized:
She's gone. Elara
And somewhere, far beneath the ballroom's shining chandeliers, unseen hands dragged a fainted Elara through a servant's passage. Her necklace glinting once under the pale torchlight before disappearing into the dark.
The night air on the balcony was cool, carrying faint echoes of the orchestra's final notes. The golden glow of chandeliers spilled faintly through the glass doors, painting shards of light across the marble floor.
"Lord Darien."
Her voice sliced through the quiet, cold, low, dangerous.
Darien turned leisurely, his expression calm, a faint smirk curving his lips. "Lady Isolde. You shouldn't look so tense. It might draw attention."
Isolde's heels clicked sharply against the floor as she approached him. "You said you'd handle it discreetly."
"I did," Darien replied, unbothered. "And I am."
"Then why," she hissed, "are there knights searching the corridors? Why are nobles whispering? You call that discreet?"
Darien's eyes glinted in the moonlight, calm, and calculating. "The search is controlled. Contained. And the Crown Prince? Predictably restless. He'll play his part without even realizing it."
Isolde's brows furrowed. "You! what part?"
He stepped closer, voice low but deliberate. "You think chaos is the enemy. It isn't. It's the perfect cover. Let them look, let them whisper. The more they scramble, the less they see."
She stared at him, searching his expression for any trace of remorse. "This wasn't part of the plan. The Crown Prince's behavior—"
"Was foreseen," he interrupted smoothly. "His protectiveness makes him predictable. That's what makes him useful."
"Useful?"she echoed incredulously. "You're toying with fire, Darien. If this fails—"
"If this fails," he said, cutting her off again, "no one will remember our names long enough to blame us."
His words were quiet, yet they struck like a blade.
Isolde clenched her fists. "You've gone too far."
"On the contrary," Darien murmured, his smirk widening just slightly. "We've only just begun."
The balcony door opened behind them. Laughter and conversation spilling briefly into the night, and then closed again. The faint tension in the air lingered like smoke.
Inside the ballroom, the music had resumed, but the ease had not. Beneath the glitter and grace, unease rippled through the gathered nobility.
The seat beside the Crown Prince remained empty.
Adrienne stood, composed and princely, and smiled faintly when the Emperor's aide glanced at him questioningly.
"Crown Princess Elara felt unwell,"he announced smoothly. "She's retired early to the Crown Princess Palace to rest."
Polite murmurs followed — sympathy, understanding. The court bowed slightly.
But not everyone believed him. The Aurelthians knew that not once had they seen Lady Elara occupy the Crown Princess Palace, and they were baffled to hear it now.
From across the hall, Duke Caelum Veyldan's eyes narrowed.
His expression remained serene, but a storm gathered behind it. In all the years of his daughter's engagement, not once had she slept in the Crown Princess Palace.
When the Emperor and Empress turned to speak with another delegate, Caelum quietly approached the dais. "Your Highness," he said respectfully, bowing slightly toward Adrienne, "may I have your permission to visit my daughter, to ensure she is well?"
Adrienne stiffened. "That won't be necessary, Duke. She is merely resting."
Caelum's gaze was level, unflinching. "Forgive me, Crown Prince, but you and I both know Elara has never stayed in that palace overnight. Unless there is reason… to keep her away from the public eye?"
Adrienne's jaw tightened. "You're implying—"
"I'm asking," Caelum said quietly, though the authority in his voice carried across the few feet between them. "As her father."
The conversation drew the attention of Emperor Alaric and Empress Lysandra, their expressions puzzled.
"Adrienne,"the Empress interjected softly, "since when has the Crown Princess used her palace? You didn't mention this arrangement."
Adrienne froze for a fraction of a second — then bowed his head respectfully. "It was a recent decision, Mother. Elara felt unwell and requested to rest privately. I didn't wish to trouble you with minor details."
But Emperor Alaric's keen eyes missed nothing. "Still, the Duke's concern is valid. Perhaps you should let him see her. A father's worry is not a small thing."
Adrienne hesitated. Every heartbeat echoed like thunder in his ears. Then, forcing a steady breath, he nodded.
"Very well," he said finally. "You may go, Duke Caelum. Inform me when she wakes."
Caelum bowed slightly. A gesture of respect, though his eyes lingered just long enough to speak what words could not.
You and I both know she isn't there.
As he turned to leave, Adrienne's fingers curled into a fist, hidden behind the folds of his cloak. His mask of calm never faltered, but inside, dread deepened.
The Duke's departure was silent, but to Adrienne, it felt like the tolling of a bell.
A faint chill clung to the air when Elara's eyes fluttered open. Her head throbbed softly, the lingering dizziness fading as she blinked the haze away.
The place was unfamiliar. A small, forgotten chamber blanketed in dust.
Cobwebs hung from the cracked ceiling beams, and the scent of old wood and rust filled the air. Pale dawn light seeped through a wide arched window draped in thin, tattered curtains.
Outside, the sky was a gradient of blue and gray, the quiet hour before sunrise.
Elara exhaled slowly, forcing her heartbeat to steady.
So they've moved me.
She tested the ropes binding her wrists behind the chair, thick, and coarse, but not enchanted. Her mind drifted briefly to the Preparatory Gathering.
I hope there wasn't a scene… Adrienne must've made an excuse by now. Maybe they just continued the event.
A soft, bitter laugh escaped her. "They probably didn't even notice I was gone," she murmured under her breath.
Still, there was no room for sentiment now.
She shifted slightly, eyes scanning the corners of the room. A toppled shelf, a wooden crate, a broken lantern on the floor. No guards inside, only faint clinking sounds of metal and muffled voices outside the door.
She closed her eyes briefly, recalling the conversation she'd had with Adam days before.
"My Lady," Adam murmured, his tone urgent but composed. "They're planning something. I only caught fragments. Words like 'kidnap,' 'Crown Princess,' and 'blackout.' But it's enough to know they're coming for you."
Elara's expression remained unreadable. "Hmm. I think I know when that would happen."
"When?" Adam pressed, frowning. "And why aren't you asking me who planned it?" He watched her closely, but as realization dawned on him, his voice faltered. "There's no way... really? Wouldn't that cause a commotion?"
"I don't know," Elara replied calmly. "Either way, I'm certain it'll happen during the Preparatory Gathering or the Foundation Anniversary Celebration."
Adam fell silent — partly out of disbelief at the kidnappers' audacity, and partly out of worry for her.
"If the blackout happens," Elara continued, her tone steady, "don't fight them. Let them take me."
"That's insane, my lady. Why would you—"
"Because I don't want a commotion," she cut in, her voice firm but quiet. "I don't want anyone involved. When that happens, go straight to the Iron Fox Guild and seek assistance. I'll pay a hefty price once it's over."
Adam clenched his fists. "But your father is a Duke. Surely, he can help. Your family is powerful—"
Elara only gave him a resigned look. "That's exactly why. I need to know who they're working for. And for that, I have to let this play out. Only I can save myself. You'll know when to move. When they think I'm unconscious, I'll leave a trail."
Adam hadn't understood it then. But the quiet conviction in her tone — calm, resolute, and final — left no room for argument.
Now, Elara drew a deep breath and flexed her legs slightly. The dagger concealed within the ribs of her fan was still strapped to her thigh.
With deliberate movements, she retrieved it and began to saw through the rope. Fibers snapped one by one, quiet and controlled.
Once free, she rubbed her wrists, then stood carefully. Her eyes adjusted to the dim light. She could see faint footprints in the dust, at least three people had been moving in and out.
The window was barred; the door, bolted from the outside.
Her thoughts flickered to the journey here. The rhythmic creak of the carriage, the rough hands that had lifted her, and the whispers she pretended not to hear.
She remembered waiting, breathing shallowly, until they believed she was unconscious. Then, inch by inch, she'd plucked strands of her violet hair and let them fall through the carriage slit whenever the wheels hit a bump.
Each strand, a signal Adam would understand.
Iron Fox Guild. Find me before dawn. That was Elara's last thought before sleep finally consumed her.
Now, that dawn was arriving.
A faint metallic clatter outside the door made her grip the edge of her fan. The modified one, its spine concealing a thin, sharp blade. Her body tensed instinctively, remembering the sparring lessons Adam had forced her through during security drills.
Then, clang! The sound of swords meeting steel rang sharply, followed by a muffled grunt.
Elara's breath caught. Her fingers tightened around the fan.
The door burst open.
Light from a torch spilled into the room, and for a heartbeat, Elara almost struck, until the familiar voice reached her.
"Lady Elara."
Adam.
He stood at the doorway, chest rising and falling with exertion, twin daggers slick with battle grime.
Behind him were three mercenaries in the Iron Fox insignia, black and silver armor marked with the fox-tail crest.
Elara lowered her blade, relief washing over her features. "You took your time."
Adam gave a small, incredulous laugh, half exasperated, half in disbelief. "You were kidnapped, and that's your first line?"
"I wasn't kidnapped," she corrected softly. "I allowed them to take me, remember?"
The mercenaries exchanged looks, somewhere between confusion and admiration.
Adam stepped forward, scanning her for injuries. "You're lucky the trail worked. We almost lost it when the wind picked up near the cliffs."
"I knew you'd notice,"she said, straightening her wrinkled gown. "The others?"
"Neutralized," one of the mercenaries replied curtly. "Three dead, one escaped. We're sweeping the perimeter."
Elara's expression darkened. "The one who escaped, track him. He'll run to his master. I need to know who paid for this."
Adam frowned. "You really think it's worth risking your life just to find out who's behind it?"
Elara met his eyes, voice low but unwavering. "If they could plan this under the empire's nose, they can do it again, to anyone. I need to know how deep this runs."
For a moment, Adam said nothing. Then he sighed, sheathing his blades. "You never make it easy, My Lady."
She allowed herself a faint smile. "And you'd be bored if I did."
A flicker of humor softened the tension, but only for a moment. Outside, the horizon was beginning to glow faintly gold, the first touch of dawn.
Elara stepped closer to the open doorway, her expression hardening again. "Let's move before the sun rises. Whoever orchestrated this won't rest after one failed attempt."
Adam nodded to his team. "Form perimeter. We leave no trace."
As they moved swiftly down the dark hall, Elara cast one last glance at the abandoned room, the cobwebs, the empty chair, the ropes she'd cut. Then she turned away, voice steady.
"Let's make them regret underestimating me."