Chapter 69
Lila
It was like Emma had become a ghost. I searched for her everywhere but after an hour it was clear she wasn’t in any of the usual places, or any unusual
ones either.
So I settled into the archives to do a little light brooding and maybe learn a little more before the next trial, whatever it would be.
I lingered longer than necessary in the aisle marked Inter–Territorial Governance & Historical Council Precedents. The scroll I held was dry, the ink faded to brown, and I hadn’t turned a page in twenty minutes.
I wasn’t reading. Not really. It was boring as hell, but I was too distracted with my own thoughts.
But down here, there were no prying eyes. No questions. Just the rustle of parchment and the faint scent of leather–bound records. Peace, in the loosest sense of the word.
When the bell chimed overhead–two soft peals–it broke the timelessness I’d sunk into. Mid–afternoon. The time they usually updated court rosters,
meeting schedules, or-
My stomach turned before I even moved.
By the time I reached the main hall outside the council chamber, the crowd had already gathered. Dozens of nobles, advisors, and candidates. Even the quieter staff lingered near the edge, pretending to polish sconces or rearrange dried arrangements along the hallway alcoves.
Their attention was fixed on the freshly posted scroll mounted to the announcement board. The seal still gleamed with soft wax. A servant had only just finished posting it.
My footsteps slowed. My palms were suddenly damp.
The hallway buzzed with whispers too soft to catch fully. A few eyes turned toward me. One girl elbowed another and muttered something behind her
sleeve.
I pushed forward, weaving through the onlookers as politely as I could. Each step made the knot in my stomach twist tighter.
The scroll was longer than usual, the font more compact. I scanned down the rankings, my eyes skipping over titles and honorifics until I found Elena’s
name.
There.
Third.
Just beneath Nora.
My breath caught. Not audibly, but enough that I felt it. Nora: Rank 2. Elena Ashford: Rank 3. Only one name higher–Vanessa, of course.
I stared at the ink like it might rearrange itself if I waited long enough.
It obviously didn’t.
I stepped back from the board and the press of bodies without thinking. My head held high. I didn’t need to see their faces. I could feel the judgment in the air, the way it shifted like wind across tall grass.
Behind me, someone murmured, “Not unexpected.”
A flash of pink silk moved past the edge of my vision–Vanessa. She didn’t stop. Didn’t speak. But her presence had a weight to it. The kind that knew how to gloat without moving her mouth.
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Iswallowed hard and turned away from the board.
It wasn’t just the ranking. It was what it meant. Nora wasn’t just gaining favor–she was one they used to mention. The quiet girl who rose too fast and slipped too soon.
replacing me in the court’s eyes, I was becoming that the
I kept walking.
Down the corridor, away from the buzz, from the lists, from the eyes that didn’t look directly at the but saw everything anyway.
Each step echoed off the marble. I didn’t rush but something inside me moved fast and sharp and afraid.
When I reached the inner wing, the noise had faded. My lungs expanded again, but the cold stayed curled beneath my ribs.
I hadn’t failed the last trial. I hadn’t stumbled. But I wasn’t shining either. And that–here—was the same as falling.
My feet turned down the next hallway and led me to the bathhouse. Its lounge was always warmer than the rest of the palace–humid, quiet, slightly sweet from the oils carried on steam.
I didn’t need a bath. I needed a place where I wouldn’t be asked questions I wasn’t ready to answer.
I sat on one of the low, cushioned benches by the wall, arms wrapped around my knees, fingers absently tracing the embroidery on my gown. The moisture in the air clung to my skin, kissed my throat and collarbone, but couldn’t soften the burn sitting in my chest.
The ranking hadn’t changed everything.
But it had changed enough.
A small tray sat beside me, filled with sugared almonds and dried rose petals. I hadn’t touched it. The almonds looked too delicate to eat. Too sweet for the sour taste in my mouth.
I didn’t hear the door open, but I felt the shift in the room’s balance before I saw her.
Vanessa moved like heat before a flame–smooth, intentional, and about to burn. She didn’t look surprised to find me here. I half expected her to have sought me out to gloat at her ranking.
She crossed the room with a grace that would’ve been enviable if it didn’t make me want to scream. Her silk robe fluttered with each step, a sheer lavender thing that belonged in a painting, not a confrontation.
She sank onto the chaise across from me like she’d been invited, long legs folding effortlessly as she plucked an almond from the tray.
“I always forget how peaceful this room is,” she said, voice light, as if we were old friends sharing secrets. “Something about the steam. It makes all the tension float away, don’t you think?”
I pointedly ignored her.
She popped the almond into her mouth with a satisfied crunch. “I saw you at the board earlier,” she went on. “Such a shame. But I suppose someone has to be third.”
I stared past her, eyes fixed on the condensation crawling down the tiled wall. My silence only encouraged her.
“Nora really is quite impressive,” she said, selecting another almond. “Not too flashy. Very Luna–coded, as they say.” She smiled faintly. “And the public loves a quiet rise.”
I could feel my fingernails pressing crescents into my arms. I didn’t loosen them.
Vanessa tilted her head. “You know, when you first arrived, I thought you’d burn out quickly. Too soft around the edges. But you’ve been surprising. Persistent, even. And now? Well.” She gave a gentle shrug. “You’ve don’t exactly what I told you to do.”
Her voice carried no malice, only sweetness. But every word was a scalpel, clean and precise.
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“I suppose that’s something to be proud of,” she added. “Being remembered just long enough to be outshone.”
I turned my head slightly, just enough to meet her gaze.
Vanessa smiled wider. “Still don’t want to speak to me? That’s fine. I just came for the almonds.” She stood gracefully, smoothing her robe with one hand. “Enjoy the heat, Elena. It’s the only thing you’re in right now.”
She hummed a soft tune as she crossed the room–some court melody from a banquet long past I was sure–and disappeared into the steam.
The silence she left behind wasn’t comforting. It was heavy.
I let my arms fall away and leaned forward, pressing my elbows into my thighs, my palms to my temples.
The steam thickened around me. I could feel every bead of moisture settle on my skin. The heat curled against my chest, making it harder to breathe.
It’s just the warmth, I told myself.
Just the heat.
Not the sting of knowing they were right. That I was fading. That even when I gave my best, it wasn’t what they – he wanted.
I closed my eyes and swallowed the burn. No more softness. No more waiting for someone to see me.
If they wanted stone, I would be stone.
