[Dawnspire Wing—Private Garden—The Next Morning—Lavinia’s POV]
Yesterday, sleep had outright betrayed . I tossed and turned like a restless ball bouncing off every corner of my bed, sheets tangled like vines strangling , while my mind refused to grant even a shred of peace.
Papa’s words. Osric’s question. The vision at the altar.
Each one circled my head like vultures—rciless, hungry, waiting for to collapse so they could devour what was left of my sanity.
And as if that weren’t enough, there was Rey. My oh-so-mysterious assistant who healed my wound in the forest with the kind of effortless power that even Papa pretends not to notice. The way everyone brushes him off, the way Papa looks at him, the way he brushes off with that bland, mundane air—it’s all suspicious.
So suspicious that if this were so novel, he’d definitely be the hidden mastermind character.
And Osric... my darling, storm-eyed Grand Duke who looks at with love and yet speaks of "choosing soone else over in the na of protection." What kind of lunatic question was that?
Romantic? No.
Suspicious? Yes.
Suspicious enough to make want to shake him by the collar and demand answers.
And Papa... ah yes, my so-tyrannical, so-glorious father, whose voice could topple armies and who insists he’ll fight every battle by my side but also slips strange words like "this ti" into his promises.
This ti? Excuse ? What "ti" are we comparing here, Papa?
Yes. Everyone around is suspicious. Mysterious. Like I’ve accidentally wandered into one of those novels where the heroine is the last person to know the truth about her own life.
But do you know what’s bothering the most?
Not Rey. Not Osric. Not even Papa, His Majesty the Walking Tyranny himself.
No.
It’s my lady-in-waiting, Sera.
Because right now, as I sit in my private garden trying to brood properly like the tragic, cursed Crown Princess that I apparently am, she is humming. Humming like an absolute fool. Like so maiden in a love ballad who just got kissed beneath the moonlight by her forbidden paramour.
She pours tea into my cup with such suspicious cheer, cheeks faintly flushed, her eyes glazed in that dreamy way that screams, "I’m in love, Your Highness," but the traitorous woman refuses to tell .
And let tell you sothing: a woman can handle betrayal. She can handle mysteries. She can even handle cheating lovers and political conspiracies.
But when her closest female ally—her last bastion of solidarity in a palace filled with secrets—starts humming like an idiot in love and refuses to share the story of how and why she fell in love with that particular person?
Trust ....that... that is the real tragedy.
And just as I thought it, Sera humd again. A soft, lilting sound, almost angelic... the kind of hum that should belong to so goddess floating on clouds, not to my lady-in-waiting, who is definitely in love and hiding from .
I narrowed my eyes, my grip tightening on the delicate porcelain teacup.
"Sera..." I said slowly, dragging her na out like a warning.
She turned, smiling so sweetly that even honey would grow bitter with envy. Her eyes glittered with faux innocence as she tilted her head.
"Yes, Your Highness? Would you like so... macarons? Or perhaps cake? Strawberry cake?"
I squinted at her. Strawberry cake. Of course. The weapon of distraction. The ultimate bribe.
I leaned forward, lowering my voice as if plotting treason. "Sera. Don’t think you can silence with sugar. I see you. I hear your humming. Do you take for a fool?"
She blinked, lashes fluttering like butterfly wings. "I would never dare, Your Highness."
"Then why," I tapped my finger against the table with each word, "are you humming like a lovesick bard who just got kissed under a waterfall?"
Sera’s cheeks flushed pink. "I—well—I’m just in a good mood, that’s all."
"’Good mood,’ she says," I muttered dramatically, turning my gaze skyward as if calling upon the gods for strength. "Marshi! Solena! Do you hear this betrayal? My closest ally, my one female comrade, refuses to share the greatest secret of all—a palace romance!"
(Yes, Solena flew here early in the morning.)
Marshi yawned from his spot at my feet, unimpressed. Solena, perched on the edge of the fountain, flapped her wings once as if to say, don’t drag us into this nonsense.
I slamd my palms on the table, startling Sera so much the teapot wobbled. "Confess! Tell , who is it? Who dares to make my lady-in-waiting hum sweeter than a nightingale at dawn?"
I know who it is, yet...I want to hear it from her own lips.
I slumped dramatically against the chair, glaring at her over the rim of my teacup. "Sera... if you don’t start talking soon, I swear I’ll throw this cup at you—not out of anger, but out of sheer desperation."
She gasped, pressing a hand to her chest, her eyes wide with mock horror. "Your Highness! Such accusations! I—I would never—"
"Oh, spare !" I cut her off, pointing accusingly. "That hum had romance written all over it. And if you don’t tell , I swear upon the Imperial Crown, I will personally launch a full-scale investigation. Interrogations. Witnesses. I’ll have the palace guards question every eligible bachelor within these walls!"
Her face turned crimson, her lips pressing together to hold back laughter. "Y-Your Highness, please! That would be most inappropriate—"
"Then speak!" I demanded, leaning closer like an interrogator ready to break a suspect.
And then—oh, betrayal!—she muttered under her breath, "I never knew you were such a petty person."
GASP.
A worldwide gasp!A gasp in Spanish! ¡Dios mío!
Solena squawked dramatically in solidarity.
"I... I heard that," I whispered, clutching my chest as though she’d stabbed right in my Imperial dignity. "How dare you? Your loyalty... shattered! My heart... broken! My reign... undermined!"
Sera only batted her lashes, looking as innocent as a lamb about to burn down the whole farm. "What? Did I say sothing?"
"Don’t play dumb with !" I shot up from my chair, pointing at her like a divine judge. "You dare call petty? ? The very symbol of grace, benevolence, and royal composure?"
"Royal... composure," she repeated, her lips twitching, eyes sparkling with mischief. "Yes, Your Highness. That’s exactly what I see right now."
I slamd my fist on the table. The porcelain rattled, a spoon clattered, and Marshi lifted his head only to yawn again.
"This is treason of the highest order," I declared, my voice booming through the garden. "Petty?! I am not petty! I am—" I jabbed a finger into my chest, "—a vigilant seeker of truth! A warrior of justice! A—"
"—cake addict," she slipped in sweetly, pouring tea as if she hadn’t just committed verbal assassination.
My mouth fell open. "You—You little—!"
Then I snapped my mouth shut, nose in the air. "I am not talking to you anymore."
Sera blinked, tilting her head. "Can you even stay without ?"
"YES," I declared instantly.
She just kept staring at , lips twitching, like she was waiting for to cave.
I huffed, mumbling into my teacup, "...as if I don’t know anything."
Her brows lifted. "What do you an by that?"
I set my cup down with the elegance of a queen delivering a verdict and shot her a sharp glance. "I know it’s Rey."
Her eyes went wide. "How did you—"
I scoffed, crossing one leg over the other like so smug cat on a throne. "What am I, Sera?"
"A... princess?" she tried.
"Wrong." I leaned forward, folding my arms with a grin. "Crown Princess. Future Empress. Which ans nothing—nothing—is hidden from . Not even your so very clearly obvious romance."
Sera went red all the way to her ears, fidgeting with the hem of her dress as if it could save her.
I smirked, letting the silence stretch before pouncing. "So..." I drawled, voice dripping with playful malice, "did you guys confess?"
She nearly dropped the teapot. "Y-Y-YOUR HIGHNESS!"
"Ha!" I pointed like I’d just cracked a secret code. "That reaction—confirmation!"
Sera buried her face in her hands, squeaking like a cornered mouse. "This is... this is bullying..."
I leaned back, triumphant, tapping my chin thoughtfully. "Bullying? No, Sera, no. This is called royal investigation."
She scoffed, lips twitching. "As if..." Then her eyes flicked toward , a little too sly for her own good. "Your Highness..."
I arched a brow, grinning. "Yes? Are you ready to tell how you fell for each other?"
"I will... soday," she said, hiding behind her teacup. Then her gaze sharpened, and she struck back without rcy: "But what about you? You and Lord Osric—you’ve confessed already, haven’t you?"
I nodded proudly. "Yes."
That was a mistake.
Because Sera instantly leaned closer, her whole face glowing with mischief. "Then you must have kissed too."
I blinked. She did not just—
"Then..." she lowered her voice, almost whispering, "can you tell ... how to kiss a man?"
My jaw went slack. I blinked once. Twice. Then slowly, wickedly, a smirk curved across my lips.
"Oh, Sera..." I purred, folding my arms like a professor about to deliver a lecture. "This is why I like you more; at least you don’t talk in riddles like everyone else in my life."
"Huh? what do you an?"
"Alright then. Let teach you..." I leaned forward, eyes gleaming. "How to kiss your boyfriend in one hundred and one ways."
Her face turned crimson, her hands clutching the tray like a shield. "Y-Your Highness, please! I... I’m all ready for lesson number one!"
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