"Why are you staring at the ceiling?" Princess Serenthia asked as she leaned back in the small velvet chair Virelle had brought from a storage closet.
Virelle blinked. "I wasn't."
"You absolutely were," Serenthia replied, popping a honeyed nut into her mouth. "You have ceiling thoughts. Dangerous things, those. I have a theory they multiply if left alone."
Virelle let out a tiny puff of laughter. Not loud. But real.
Lia, perched on a stool beside the fire, flicked her tail with satisfaction.
The princess had that effect.
Dinner was quiet and oddly warm. No grand chandeliers or judgmental cutlery. Just a girl with guarded eyes, a royal with opinions, and a cat who understood more than anyone realized.
"You like reading?" Serenthia asked, gesturing to the books stacked by the bed.
Virelle nodded. "Histories. Legends. Journals."
"Not romances?"
"No," Virelle said, looking away. "They always end in ways that hurt."
Serenthia paused, then said softly, "Or begin again in ways that heal."
Virelle glanced at her, startled.
Lia narrowed her eyes thoughtfully. She's more than just a royal. She's watching. Learning. Making Virelle feel seen.
The tea cooled slowly between them, the air growing thick with unspoken things.
Then a maid come and said.
"Your highness, his grace wants to have tea with you"
"Tell him I am coming"
Princess answered,and the maid left.
Elsewhere in the Mansion
Duke Luthair Cersenia poured two cups of tea in the study. The silver tray gleamed between him and the princess.
He didn't usually host guests privately. Much less speak to them beyond protocol.
But something about Serenthia unsettled him.
"You said earlier," he began, "that my daughter differs from what you expected."
The princess accepted the teacup with a small nod. "I did."
"She's been raised well."
Serenthia tilted her head. "Is that what you believe?"
Luthair frowned.
"Duke," Serenthia said calmly, "you are a man of great logic. So consider this: if you rarely see your child, and when you do, she speaks little and avoids your gaze—what would you conclude?"
"That she is shy."
"That she is scared," Serenthia corrected. "Or taught to be silent."
The words didn't sit well. They moved inside him like a stone dropped into a still lake. Ripples. Cracks.
"But my wife—"
"Your second wife," the princess interjected coolly, "has perhaps crafted a narrative. One you've accepted far too easily."
The Duke didn't speak. His fingers clenched tighter around the teacup.
Then—
A scream split the air.
High. Sharp. Virelle.
Everything shattered.
Moments Earlier
After the princess had gone to his father's office for tea to,Virelle and Lia went out for a short walk and we're returning back to her quarters with Lia cradled carefully in her arms.
But someone was waiting.
Lady Mirane stood by the door.
Waiting for Virelle.
"You," Mirane hissed. "You dirty thing!"
Before Virelle could react, the woman strode forward and slapped her—a crack echoing through the hall.
Lia hissed.
Virelle stumbled backward, shielding the kitten behind her.
"A filthy beast in this house?!" Mirane screeched. "You dare hide it?! Do you think you can bring lice and curses under my roof?!"
"No! Please—"
Mirane's hand seized the blanket, yanked it, grabbed Lia roughly by the scruff of her neck.
Lia yowled in pain, claws flailing.
Virelle lunged. "NO—don't hurt her! Give her back—!"
"Shut up, you cursed brat!"
Mirane shoved Virelle aside.
Virelle's foot slipped.
The stairs.
Too close.
She reached—but missed the railing.
And fell.
Tumbling.
Head. Shoulder. Elbow. Knee.
Down, down, down.
Blood blooming behind her ear.
In the Study
The scream hit them like a storm.
Duke Luthair dropped his teacup.
Serenthia shot to her feet.
A loud thud. A second. Then silence.
Then a voice—weak and terrified:
"Please… Lia… don't take her away… please…"
They both raced toward the corridor.
When the Duke emerged into the foyer, what he saw froze his breath.
Virelle.
Sprawled at the foot of the staircase.
Blood matting her golden hair.
Eyes fluttering.
And from the top of the stairs—
Mirane.
Holding a limp, tiny kitten in her hand.
The Duke's world tilted.
"VIRELLE!" he bellowed, sprinting to her.
She looked up, dazed, and whispered, "Lia…"
Then collapsed into his arms.
"GET THE DOCTOR!" the Duke roared. "NOW!"
He turned to the princess, panic hidden behind command. "Your Highness—take the kitten."
Serenthia didn't wait. She stormed up the stairs.
"Give her to me," she growled at Mirane.
"This mongrel—!"
Serenthia slapped her.
Hard.
"Try lifting your hand again in this house," the princess snapped, "and you'll find yourself in the capital dungeons. Personally."
Mirane dropped Lia.
The kitten stumbled, dazed, and ran down the stairs toward Virelle's bloodied body.
Serenthia picked her up mid-run and held her tightly.
"I've got you," she whispered to the trembling creature. "We won't let her go alone."