The palace smelled of polished marble and lies.
Selene had not returned to court since Thorne's death, not even for the high festivals, but today, her boots echoed in the great corridors once again. The morning sun slanted through high archways, catching in crystal chandeliers and gilded pillars that gleamed with untouchable beauty. The capital city of Vaelborne was stirring beyond the palace walls, but inside, power moved quietly on whispers, glances, and silk-gloved hands.
Selene moved like she belonged. In a gown of deep sapphire trimmed in black velvet, she looked every bit the noblewoman she had once been before loss had carved her hollow.
Two guards flanked her silently. Damien had insisted that she be escorted while on palace grounds. "Protection," he said. "Not surveillance." She didn't believe him.
The Great Courtroom opened before her, domed and echoing, where nobles gathered like vultures in tailored finery. At the center sat Queen Mirelle, flanked by silk-draped officials and her silent husband, King Alaric, whose eyes never strayed far from his goblet of wine.
Selene's arrival caused a ripple. Faces turned. Fans stilled mid-wave.
There she is.
The Armitage girl.
The traitor bride.
The sister of the dead man who married his murderer.
Selene ignored them.
And then she saw her.
Lady Vanya Caelborn.
Dressed in blood-red silk, her gown hugged her frame like temptation made flesh. Her black curls were pinned high with rubies, her lips painted the color of crushed cherries. Vanya stood beside the queen, her smile poised, her eyes unreadable.
Selene's heart thudded once, an echo of the past, then quieted beneath a hard resolve.
She walked to the queen's dais and offered the customary bow.
"Your Majesty. I bring regards from House Virelith."
Queen Mirelle smiled like a blade hidden in a bouquet. "Lady Selene. You are a welcome sight, though some say your husband's shadow travels faster than you do."
Selene offered a polite nod. "His shadow guards our borders today. I carry it with me in his stead."
Mirelle's laughter was soft but sharp. "Well said."
Vanya stepped forward. "Allow me to attend Lady Selene. We were once… very close."
That voice. Soft and musical. Poison poured over sugar.
The queen nodded. "Go on then. Old friends must find new understandings."
They walked alone beneath the colonnade, where sunlight speared through stone arches and the gardens beyond rustled with wind.
Selene said nothing.
Vanya finally broke the silence. "You look beautiful. Though mourning and marriage have stolen the wildness from your eyes."
"You were assigned to Thorne," Selene said coldly. "Three weeks before his death."
Vanya's smile thinned. "Straight to the blade, as always."
"Why?"
"Because he requested me."
Selene blinked. "He… what?"
Vanya turned, her red skirts catching the breeze. "He believed I influenced the right places. That I could help him pass legislation without attracting attention. What he didn't know…" She looked back, dark eyes suddenly serious. "Is that I warned him to stop?"
Selene's throat tightened. "Stop what?"
"Digging into ghosts. He was uncovering things that would bury him."
"You mean the Crimson Court."
Vanya raised a brow. "So you've heard."
"I want names."
A silence followed, long and strained.
"You think I'm part of it," Vanya finally said.
"I think you survived, and he didn't."
Vanya stepped closer. "Then ask yourself, would the Crimson Court let me walk away if I were theirs? Or did I live because I did what he wouldn't… and stopped looking?"
Selene stared at her, reading every flicker in her eyes.
"I never trusted you," she said.
Vanya smiled sadly. "But your brother did."
She turned and walked away, her voice drifting behind her like smoke.
"They'll come for you, Selene. When they do, don't ask why. Ask who you failed to fear."
Selene returned to her private chambers in the old wing of the palace, her mind racing. She had expected confrontation. She hadn't expected warning.
Her hands trembled as she poured herself a glass of water. Across the room, Liora napped curled up with a book, her small chest rising and falling peacefully. Selene watched her for a long time, the storm inside her heart threatening to crack the calm.
A knock sounded.
Selene opened the door to find Quinn, the archivist, looking like a man who hadn't slept in days.
"I found something," he said. "And you're not going to like it."
They returned to the Virelith archives under the cover of dusk. The manor was quiet, save for a few lanterns lit in passing halls.
Quinn spread a series of scrolls and coded ledgers across the table. "Thorne used ciphered correspondence for sensitive matters. I cracked one of them."
Selene scanned the parchment.
It was a list.
R. Calem – bribed for shipment clearance
S. Yevrin – controlled by blackmail
E. Wren – compromised loyalty? Watch closely.
V. Caelborn – risky, but essential. Maybe clean.
A. (Unknown) – too powerful. Untouchable. Likely orchestrator.
Selene's breath caught. "He doubted Elias…"
"And he suspected Vanya, but relied on her anyway," Quinn said. "But this last name—just an initial. A. Untouchable. That's the one he feared."
Selene sat down heavily.
A chill ran through her bones.
"What do we know about nobles or officials with 'A'?"
Quinn gave her a look. "Selene, half the high court has names that start with A. Alaric, Aldric, Alton, Avenel…"
"No," Selene murmured. "Not half the court. Half the Royal Circle."
Her gaze narrowed.
"King Alaric."
Quinn paused. "You think the king himself…?"
"I don't know." Her eyes burned. "But if Thorne believed someone at the very top was involved, then we're not just hunting shadows anymore, we're fighting gods."
That night, Selene sat alone by the fire in her private study, reading Thorne's journal again. This time, she noticed a detail she had overlooked before.
The ink in the last line, "Trust no one at court, not even Elias," was smudged, as if hastily written… or added after the fact.
She flipped through the pages.
Some were slightly torn at the edges.
Others had light impressions, as if additional pages had once been inserted, then removed.
"Did someone alter this?" she whispered.
Had the message about Elias been part of Thorne's original warning… or a planted misdirection?
A sudden, muffled crash jolted her.
Selene bolted upright, clutching a hidden blade from her desk drawer. She crept down the hallway, following the sound to a small guest chamber.
The door creaked open.
A window was ajar. Cold wind blew the drapes inward.
On the windowsill sat a velvet pouch. Blood-red, tied with a black ribbon.
Her stomach dropped.
She untied it slowly.
Inside was a single crimson ring, the sign of the Crimson Court.
And a note.
"You are asking the wrong questions, Lady Virelith. Next time, we will not knock."