The great hall shimmered with opulence that night. Candlelight danced across polished marble, chandeliers glittered like constellations overhead, and the sound of music masked the underlying tension threading through the crowd. Courtiers laughed too loudly, smiled too wide, and whispered behind jeweled fans.
The Queen's masquerade was not just a celebration—it was a test.
And Rose knew she was the target.
Draped in crimson silk, her mask carved with delicate thorns, she walked among them like a flame in a field of ice. Her every step was calculated, her smile an artful lie. They saw the new princess—the one who had risen from obscurity, who charmed nobles and outwitted ministers. What they didn't see was the girl who remembered every betrayal, every blade in her back.
Kyle stood at her side, cloaked in black and silver, his face partially hidden, but his presence unmistakable. He was her shadow tonight—her shield, her blade. And yet, he said little. Not because he didn't want to speak, but because his eyes were too busy scanning the room, reading the unspoken games unfolding around them.
"You shouldn't have come alone last night," he murmured under his breath, low enough for only her to hear.
Rose sipped her wine. "I wasn't alone. The palace spoke to me."
Kyle shot her a glance. "You're not invincible."
"I don't need to be," she said softly. "I just need to stay one step ahead."
Across the hall, Prince Christopher was watching her.
His golden mask could not hide the tension in his jaw, the possessive way his eyes followed her every move. Once, she had dreamed of being his queen. Now, she wore another kingdom's crown and danced to her own tune. But his gaze—it hadn't changed. It still held that dangerous mix of regret and pride.
He made his move.
"May I steal this dance?" he asked, voice smooth as velvet, hand outstretched toward Rose.
She paused, long enough for the court to feel the chill of suspense, then placed her gloved fingers in his.
As they moved across the floor, Christopher leaned closer. "You're different."
"I've grown," she replied, smiling.
"You're sharper," he said. "Like a rose with too many thorns."
She met his gaze through her mask. "I had to be."
For a heartbeat, the world was just them—once-lovers turned political chess pieces. He pulled her closer.
"I never meant to hurt you," he whispered.
Rose leaned in, her lips nearly touching his ear. "That's the thing about betrayal, Christopher. It only works when you trust the person holding the knife."
He stiffened. She smiled.
As the music ended, Kyle stepped forward, breaking the moment with cool precision. "Your Highness," he said to Christopher, with the perfect hint of warning. "There are matters that require the Princess's attention."
Rose didn't resist as Kyle took her arm and led her away. She was done playing nostalgia games.
In the corridor beyond the ballroom, she exhaled.
"He's growing suspicious," she said.
Kyle nodded. "So is Queen Mariam. She's been watching you all night."
"I know," Rose replied. "And I think it's time we give her something to watch."
Kyle paused. "What do you mean?"
Rose turned to him, eyes gleaming with the dangerous fire of strategy. "Let's rattle the nest, General. Let's make her think I'm planning something much bigger than she fears."
He arched a brow. "And you're not?"
She smirked. "Oh, I absolutely am. But she doesn't need to know what... yet."
From the shadows above, a hidden figure listened.
Every lie.
Every truth.
Every move.
And they were about to play their own piece on the board.