The day after the assassination attempt, the capital had not yet recovered from the shock—yet the nobles who plotted in silence wasted no time.
The Gathering of Traitors
In a secluded manor outside the city walls, Duke Cassian stood before a long table surrounded by his newly gathered allies. The room was dim, lit only by the blue glow of arcane lanterns.
Cassian:
"The king suspects nothing… for now.
But if we delay any longer, he will."
The nobles shifted uneasily.
Lord Halden:
"We must move before he tightens security. If he uncovers our intentions, everything collapses."
Lady Varna:
"And that girl—Raven . As long as she is in the capital, she will interfere again. We all witnessed her strength."
Cassian's jaw tightened.
Cassian:
"Exactly. On the day of the coup, she must not be here.
We will draw her outside the city—far enough that she cannot return in time."
A murmur of agreement spread through the room.
Cassian:
"Our plan begins in two days. Prepare your forces.
When the palace falls, the throne will be ours."
As the nobles continued discussing logistics, strategies, and betrayals…
Someone else was listening.
From the darkness above the rafters, a figure crouched silently—her presence cold as a serpent's breath.
Morivine.
Her lips curved into a wicked smile, eyes gleaming with malicious delight.
Morivine (whispering to herself):
"So the little nobles finally make their move…
How entertaining."
Her form melted back into the shadows, disappearing without a trace.
⸻
Meanwhile, far from the whispers of treachery, Raven walked into the palace training grounds. Her black hair, cut in a sharp wolf-cut, brushed against her cheeks. Her golden eyes, as cold and sharp as a predator's, scanned the field.
She expected to see Princess Lyria ready with her practice sword.
Instead, Lyria stood with her arms folded, refusing to even touch the weapon.
Raven :
"…You don't want to train today?"
Lyria (soft but firm):
"No. We're not training."
Raven raised a brow.
Raven :
"Why?"
Lyria glanced at Raven 's bandaged hand—still not healed. Her expression hardened.
Lyria:
"Because your hand isn't healed yet."
Raven:
"This small injury won't stop me—"
Lyria (suddenly raising her voice):
"That's the problem!"
Raven stiffened. Lyria rarely raised her voice.
Lyria:
"If you don't care about yourself, that's your issue.
But I care. And I won't let you train or fight or do anything until you're alright."
Raven opened her mouth to argue—but the fire in Lyria's silver eyes silenced her.
She sighed softly, defeated.
Raven :
"…As you wish, Princess."
Lyria huffed, turning away before her cheeks betrayed her emotions.
Lyria:
"Good. Now come with me—you too, Kara.
I've prepared tea and some desserts in the garden.
We will relax today. No training. No duties."
She walked ahead.
Raven and Kara looked at each other in complete silence.
Kara (whispering):
"Is she… mad or embarrassed?"
Raven :
"I have no idea."
They followed her anyway.
⸻
The royal garden was peaceful—flowers blooming in soft pastels, water fountains whispering gently. A small table was set with fine porcelain, steam rising from a teapot.
As Lyria reached the table, her foot caught on a loose stone.
She stumbled—
—and Raven who was standing behind her moved instantly.
Her hand wrapped around Lyria's waist, catching her before she fell.
Their faces were suddenly close—too close.
Lyria froze.
Raven's golden sharp eyes stared into hers at point-blank distance.
Unemotional. Calm.
Yet somehow… gentle.
Lyria (heart racing):
"T-Thank you."
Raven:
"Be careful."
Raven released her, stepping back.
But Lyria didn't move.
Her heart felt as if someone was squeezing it—not painfully, but intensely.
A realization began blooming inside her chest, frightening and warm all at once:
What I feel for her… this isn't friendship.
It's something more.
Something deeper.
Something I can't ignore anymore.
Is this… love?
Lyria touched her chest, trying to steady her breath.
All this time, Kara was watching them silently with smirk.
Across from her, Raven poured tea with her usual emotionless calm—her expression unreadable, her smile faint and gentle…
But completely fake.
Because deep down, Raven felt nothing.
No fluttering.
No warmth.
No confusion.
Only the need to maintain the mask she'd worn all her life.
The mask that fooled everyone.
Lyria looked at Raven again—really looked at her—and her heart tightened.
Because now she knew:
She's smiling… but that smile isn't real.
And she didn't know what terrified her more—
the depth of her own feelings…
or the emptiness behind Raven's eyes.
⸻