At the Royal Palace of Belvorn, in the study of one of the residential side hos.
"Father, Aunt has invited Carn’s daughter for this year’s festival as one of the selected perfurs. Has she recognized her own granddaughter?" Garwin Everthorn asked his father, Howard Everthorn, who was the Queen’s brother and Caryn’s uncle.
"If she had known about it, she wouldn’t be this quiet," Howard replied. "My sister believes her daughter is dead—she even saw the dead body of a little girl back then. This is just a coincidence that her granddaughter happens to be among the invited perfurs."
"But now that Carn is alive, and she warned us about her return, she would definitely send her daughter here and then co herself. What are we going to do?"
"Carn can’t co here; she is too weak," Howard said, an evil smirk spreading across his lips. "It’s good that she’s sending her daughter into our territory on her own. It will make it easier to get rid of her."
Garwin finally understood. "You’re right, Father. Once she’s here, we’ll get rid of her, and then we’ll deal with Carn. Charlotte is about to be announced as the Princess soon. I can’t let Carn and her daughter, Natalie, ruin the years of hard work we’ve put into this. My daughter will be the Princess and then the next Queen."
"Rest assured," Howard said confidently. "Charlotte is destined to sit on that throne. It’s ti we take complete control of this country."
While the two n were talking, soone stood outside the study, listening intently. The young woman, in her early twenties, was none other than Garwin’s daughter and Howard’s granddaughter—the currently nad Princess of Belvorn, though not yet officially crowned—Princess Charlotte Everthorn.
Natalie? Carn’s daughter? Charlotte’s mind raced at what she overheard. Is Carn not dead? She’s alive and even has a daughter? Did I hear it right that they are coming back?
Her delicate, beautiful face, frad by her impeccably styled deep brown hair, was painted with worry. Her honey-colored eyes glead with a tinge of anger. I can’t let this happen. I am the Princess. I’ll ensure she never ets the Queen. I am the only granddaughter of the Queen and the rightful heiress.
With this thought, she turned sharply and headed toward her residence, the Princess’s quarters. Upon entering the drawing room, she imdiately ordered her assistant, "Get the list of the perfurs invited to this year’s festival."
The female assistant, dressed in formal attire, quickly handed over a tablet. Charlotte scrolled through the list, her eyes narrowing as they landed on a single na among the ten: Natalie Ford.
"Get all the information on this woman nad Natalie Ford," she commanded.
"Yes, Your Highness," the assistant replied and hurried off to fulfill the order.
A while later, the assistant returned with the requested details. As Charlotte read through the information, a mocking smirk curled on her lips.
I was worried for nothing. This girl is nothing but a disgrace to a royal bloodline. She’s no competition for . Her disgusting record will disqualify her from ever taking the position of princess. She has no manners, no sense of style, nothing a princess should have. Such a disappointnt. But still, I can’t take any chances. I have to stop her from eting the Queen.
Charlotte set the tablet aside and rose to her feet. She decided to go to the Queen’s residence, located in the main residential part of the vast and majestic palace. As she made her way through the halls, guards and servants bowed respectfully.
Upon inquiry, she was inford that the Queen was currently in the garden. When she arrived, she spotted the Queen sitting under a beautifully ornate gazebo.
The elderly woman was dressed in an elegant light blue dress, her light brown hair styled neatly into a bun. Her graceful face bore wrinkles that frad her light brown eyes, giving her an air of wisdom and kindness. A light smile adorned her lips as she sipped her favorite freshly brewed tea.
Charlotte approached with poise and greeted her warmly, offering a radiant smile. "Good morning, Grandma."
The Queen gave her an approving nod. "Good morning, Charlotte. Have a seat."
Charlotte took the chair offered to her, and a servant promptly served her tea.
Accepting the cup, she said, "I’m not particularly fond of tea, but I truly like this one. It’s my favorite because it’s Grandma’s favorite flavor."
The Queen humd softly, a trace of a smile still lingering. "This flavor is indeed delightful."
As both of them enjoyed their tea, Charlotte asked, "Grandma, are we inviting ten perfurs from all over the world again this year?"
The Queen nodded, prompting Charlotte to add, "Can I see the list? I’d like to know who we’re inviting so I can learn more about them."
"Sure," the Queen replied, glancing at her young female assistant. The assistant nodded and opened a file on the tablet before handing it to Charlotte.
Charlotte began going through the list, comnting on each na as she read.
"Hmmm, this perfur definitely deserves to be here... This one, I’ve tried her last creation, and it was quite good... Oh, this one—I’m looking forward to seeing what she prepares... Huh?" Charlotte suddenly stopped, surprise flashing across her face. "Am I seeing this right?"
"What happened?" the Queen asked, taking another sip of tea.
"Grandma, it seems like we might have overlooked sothing in the selection process," Charlotte said, her tone asured yet concerned. "This guest, Natalie Ford, surely doesn’t deserve to be invited."
"Why?" the Queen inquired, raising an eyebrow.
"Grandma, this person is constantly surrounded by scandals that would only disgrace us if we invite soone like her. Her personal life is ssy and always in the news, and even her professional life has been riddled with controversies," Charlotte said, her tone laced with concern.
"Anyone we invite to this small perfu creation event is chosen based on their skills, not their personal lives," the Queen replied calmly. "I have no doubt her perfu-making skills are exceptional."
Charlotte pulled a sad expression. "But Grandma—"
"Charlotte," the Queen interrupted, her tone firm but composed, "the invitations have already been sent, and it’s already public knowledge whom we’ve invited. Going back on our word is not sothing that befits our family. Let’s see what she is capable of creating."
With the Queen’s decisive words, Charlotte could say no more. When the Queen spoke, her words were final.
After so ti, Charlotte left.
The Queen’s assistant, sensing the lingering tension, asked hesitantly, "Your Majesty, is it truly fine to invite that perfur?"
The Queen pondered for a mont before replying, "I can’t wait to see the magic she creates with her skills, especially after watching her win that competition."
The assistant could only hum softly, respecting the Queen’s decision.
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