The castle courtyard was unusually quiet that morning, the air thick with anticipation. Servants moved quickly, heads bowed, whispering about the final fittings and the arrival of the seamstress — the woman responsible for the controversial red dress.
Lisa arrived with her son, Marco, at her side. She wore her best shawl, hands trembling slightly as she clutched the folded parchment of the royal order. Marco walked beside her, chin lifted, trying to mask the unease in his chest.
They were escorted to the grand hall, where Lady Viremont stood like a statue carved from ice. Elaine lounged nearby, sipping tea, her cousins giggling behind her.
"You're late," Lady Viremont said coldly.
Lisa bowed. "We came as soon as we were summoned, my lady."
Lady Viremont gestured to the torn red dress laid out on the chaise. "Explain this."
Lisa blinked. "That dress wasn't part of the order. It was stitched from leftover silk. It was never meant for Lady Elaine."
Elaine raised an eyebrow. "Then why was it in my chambers?"
Marco stepped forward. "It was taken from the dressing wing. Without permission."
Elaine tilted her head, eyes narrowing. "I remember you."
Marco froze.
"You were at the inn," she said. "The one who dared look me in the eye."
Lady Viremont's gaze sharpened. "Is that true?"
Marco didn't speak.
Elaine smirked. "He's insolent. Untrained. And clearly unfit to serve nobility."
Lisa stepped forward. "My son is honest. He's done nothing wrong."
Lady Viremont's hand moved swiftly — a slap that echoed through the hall.
Lisa staggered, her cheek blooming red.
Marco rushed to her side, eyes wide with disbelief. "You didn't have to—"
"Silence," Lady Viremont snapped. "You've insulted the crown. You've defied the queen-to-be. You're both banished."
Gasps rippled through the room.
Lisa's voice trembled. "Please—"
"Leave," Lady Viremont said. "Before I call the guards."
Marco helped his mother to her feet, his heart breaking with every step toward the door.
Carmine watched from the shadows, fists clenched, eyes burning.
She waited until the hall emptied, then slipped out through the servant's corridor, her steps quick and silent.
She had to find Colden.
Colden was still at the Farland bridge with Francis, the wind brushing past as he stared at the horizon.
"I need to go back," he said suddenly.
Francis nodded. "I'll have the carriage ready."
They rode in silence, urgency rising with every mile.
But when they reached the castle, the damage had already been done.
Carmine met them at the gates, breathless. "They're gone."
Colden stepped down. "Who?"
"Marco. His mother. Lady Viremont banished them."
Colden's face went pale. "What?"
"She accused them of stealing the dress. Elaine badmouthed Marco. Lisa was slapped. No one defended them."
Colden didn't wait.
He stormed into the grand hall, where Lady Viremont and Elaine were still seated, sipping tea like nothing had happened.
"You banished them?" he demanded.
Lady Viremont looked up, unfazed. "They were disrespectful."
Elaine smirked. "He was beneath you."
Colden's voice shook. "You had no right."
Lady Viremont stood. "I had every right. You are to be engaged tomorrow. You need to act like a future king."
Colden stepped forward. "Then hear me clearly."
The room fell silent.
"I cancel the engagement."
Elaine's cup shattered against the floor.
Lady Viremont's eyes widened. "You can't."
"I just did."
Elaine stood, trembling. "You reject me?"
Colden turned. "I choose truth. I choose love. I choose Marco."
He walked out, leaving stunned silence behind him.
Elaine's face twisted with rage — a look she had never worn before. Rejection was foreign. Unacceptable.
Francis and Carmine watched from the corridor, worry etched into their faces.
The castle was no longer a place of celebration.
It was a battlefield.
And Colden was already gone — chasing the only thing that mattered.