Queen Seraphina, elegant in her mid‑forties with streaks of silver woven through her black hair, spoke softly, her voice carrying both warmth and calculation. "Come, child. Sit next to your mother."
The words struck me like a blade wrapped in silk. She knew Aetheria had lost her mother at a young age, and yet she used the title deliberately, testing me. I forced a graceful smile. "Of course. To meet and sit beside my mother—how wonderful." My lips curved, though the smile felt heavy, unnatural.
I rose, every step measured, and walked toward the long dining table. Sliding into the seat beside her, I kept my posture regal, though unease coiled in my chest.
Across the table, my step‑brother leaned back in his chair, a smirk tugging at his lips. His voice carried that clipped, aristocratic lilt, mocking and cruel. "Well now, why the mask, dear sister? Hiding something beneath that face of yours, are you?" He chuckled, the sound dripping with condescension, like a spoiled noble amused by his own wit.
Before I could respond, Queen Seraphina's tone sharpened. "Kael, mind your manners, will you?"
Kael tilted his head, feigning innocence, though the smirk never left his face. "Oh, forgive me, Mother. I only meant to lighten the mood." His words were smooth, but the gleam in his eyes betrayed his delight in needling me.
The clinking of silverware filled the hall as everyone began to eat. I remembered how, since childhood, Aetheria had been taught to dine with the grace of a princess. But I thought to myself—why not eat like an animal? Perhaps it will throw them off, cool their suspicions.
I beckoned to one of the serving maids. "Bring me a bowl of water." She obeyed, setting it before me. I washed my hands deliberately, then dismissed her. All eyes turned toward me as I reached for the turkey, tearing at it with my hands, about to raise it to my mouth.
Ophelia's voice rang out, sharp and dripping with disdain. "Good heavens, why are you eating like some pauper off the streets? Have you lost your memory along with your manners? What an absolute embarrassment." Her words carried that clipped, aristocratic bite, each syllable meant to wound.
My father chuckled, and soon the others joined in, laughter echoing around the table. Queen Seraphina, ever poised, lifted her chin and spoke with cool reproach. "You all lack empathy. Show some remorse."
I placed the turkey back on the plate, my voice calm but firm. "Actually, I don't feel like eating any more."
Kael leaned back in his chair, smirking, his tone laced with mockery. "Trouble much, aren't you? Always finding yourself in a bit of a muddle, eh?" His British drawl made the insult sting sharper, as though he were amused by my discomfort.
Before I could respond, my father's voice cut through the tension. "The reason your mother and I called for this dinner is simple. You are to marry the Emperor of Arkham. This alliance will strengthen our kingdom."
My pulse quickened. I knew that if I refused, suspicion would fall upon me instantly. Rising from my seat, I bowed low, my voice steady. "Your Majesty, if it so pleases you, I am content with your decision."
I lifted my gaze briefly, catching the expressions of Kael, Ophelia, and Queen Seraphina. Their eyes burned with resentment, their composure cracking for just a moment. Shock rippled across their faces. They had expected defiance, not compliance.
Inside, I smiled faintly. The script is already beginning to change.
Everyone sat in stunned silence at my decision. Ophelia's eyes narrowed, her voice sharp and dripping with suspicion. "Why do you agree to this alliance, Aetheria?"
I remained seated, my veil still covering my face, and spoke with measured grace. "It is simple. My parents here have done their very best in grooming me, preparing me for the trials of the future. I am indebted to them, and it is only right that I reciprocate their sacrifices. So why not go along with what they wish?"
I knew exactly what I was doing. If there was one thing that could move Queen Seraphina's spirit, it was praise. True to form, her lips curved into a satisfied smile, her eyes gleaming with pride.
Kael leaned forward, his tone mocking, his smirk unmistakable. "Still hiding behind that veil, are you? What's beneath it—something you'd rather the world not see?"
I kept my composure. "I have a scar upon my face. It looks unpleasant. Why not hide it?" My voice was calm, deliberate, leaving no room for further mockery.
Then I rose, bowing slightly. "May I take my leave, Your Highness?"
My father and step‑mother exchanged a glance, then nodded in assurance. "You may," King Aldric said firmly.
And so I left the dining hall, the weight of their stares lingering behind me. Every step I took away from that table carried both relief and unease. I had played my part well, but I knew the game had only just begun.
The maidens escorted me back to my manor, their footsteps echoing softly against the marble floors. At the door, I dismissed them with a nod and slipped inside. The silence of the room wrapped around me like a cloak. I took a quick shower, the warm water easing the tension from my body, then slipped into my nightgown. Carefully, I changed my veil and tucked it away—hidden. Only one person would ever be allowed to remove it from my face.
Sleep came quickly, heavy and dreamless. But in the early hours of dawn, a frantic knocking jolted me awake. I kept still, feigning deep sleep, hoping whoever it was would leave. Yet the knocking persisted, louder, more urgent.
"You are disturbing me," I muttered irritably.
The door creaked open, and a maiden rushed in, dropping to her knees. "Good morning, Your Grace. Forgive me for the disturbance. The minister is on his way—with the royal decree. Please, put on a coat before he arrives."
I sat up slowly, my hair tumbling loose over my shoulders. "What is a royal decree?" I asked, though I already knew.
"There's no time to explain," she said quickly, her eyes wide with urgency.
I rose, tying my hair back with deliberate care, then slipped into a coat. In truth, I understood perfectly well what a royal decree meant. It was the king's will, written and sealed, carrying the weight of law itself. In kingdoms like Eldoria—and even in the empires of old China—a royal decree was absolute. It could command marriages, declare wars, appoint ministers, or strip nobles of their titles. To defy it was to defy the crown, and such defiance was punishable by death.
As I fastened the coat around me, my heart tightened. Whatever was written in that decree would shape my fate.
The doors swung open, and the voice of the herald rang through the hall. "Grand Chancellor Alaric Marlowe approaches!"
At once, the guards and maidens at my side dropped to their knees, heads bowed low. I followed suit, lowering myself with deliberate grace. The maiden who had woken me earlier knelt beside me, trembling.
The Grand Chancellor entered, his robes heavy with embroidery, his presence commanding. In his hands he carried a golden scroll, sealed with the king's stamp. He raised it high, then unfurled it with solemn precision. His voice thundered through the chamber, each word echoing like law carved into stone:
"By decree of His Majesty, King Aldric of Eldoria, sovereign of crown and realm, it is hereby commanded:
Two months from now , Princess Aetheria shall be attended by her maidens, groomed in accordance with royal custom, and prepared for departure.
She shall be conveyed with honor and ceremony to the Kingdom of Arkham, there to be wed to His Imperial Majesty, the Emperor of Arkham.
This union shall bind Eldoria and Arkham in alliance, strengthening the bonds of peace and prosperity between our thrones.
So it is written. So it shall be done."
The scroll snapped shut, the sound sharp as a blade.
A hush fell over the manor. The maidens bowed deeper, whispering prayers under their breath. The guards struck their spears against the floor in unison, a gesture of obedience to the king's will.
I felt the weight of the words press against my chest. My fate had been sealed in ink and gold. The decree was absolute—no protest, no refusal. To defy it would mean treason.
The Grand Chancellor's gaze swept over me, cold and unreadable. "Your Grace," he said, voice clipped, "prepare yourself. The kingdom watches."
I forced my body to rise, my veil hiding the tremor in my lips. "As His Majesty commands," I replied, bowing low.
Behind me, I caught the flicker of expressions—maids exchanging anxious glances, guards stiff with unease. Somewhere in the shadows of my mind, I knew Ophelia and Kael would be seething. The decree had stripped them of their schemes, at least for now.
But as the Grand Chancellor turned to leave, the silence lingered like a storm waiting to break.
As soon as the Grand Chancellor departed, I rose from my seat, and the others followed suit. Turning to the maiden who had woken me earlier, I said softly, "Can you show me around this place after I take a shower?"
She tilted her head in confusion. "Your Grace… what do you mean?"
It struck me then—there were no showers in this time. I corrected myself quickly. "Can you help me with bathing?"
She nodded. "Yes, Your Grace."
I entered my chamber, and she closed the door behind us. In the bathing room, she helped me undress, her movements careful and respectful. I sank into the warm water, petals drifting across the surface like fragments of a dream. She bathed my body and hair, her hands gentle, while I watched the petals swirl.
"No matter how dirty the water becomes, or how hot or cold it is," I murmured, "the petals always float. They never sink."
The maiden paused, glancing at me curiously. "If I may ask, Your Grace… what do you mean?"
I smiled faintly, though my voice carried a weight I couldn't hide. "I aspire to be like the petals. No matter what happens, I want to remain afloat."
As she rinsed my hair, my thoughts drifted inward. In my real life, I had everything—success, recognition, wealth. Yet I lacked something essential: love, and my own freedom. Here, it feels the same. A princess in title, but a slave in spirit. Bound by duty in both worlds.
The petals floated on, untouched by the depths beneath them. I envied their quiet resilience.