Verlice State - Winters Study
Crane walks across the polished floor, a small stack of letters in hand. He stops at Winter's desk and places them down.
Crane: "These just came in, Young Lord."
Winter looks up, lifts the top envelope, and raises an eyebrow.
Winter: "Hm. This one's addressed to you, not me."
Crane blinks.
Crane: "To me? That's... odd. Who'd have business with me?"
Winter slides the letter across the desk.
Winter: "Only one way to find out. Go on, read it."
Crane hesitates, then takes the envelope. Winter opens his own.
Winter (flatly):"Ah. The polite decline."
Crane unfolds his letter—eyes widening as he reads. He looks up.
Crane: 'Lady Ford invited me. She's asked me to be her partner for the ball."
Winter lets out a short, amused breath.
Winter: 'You should accept."
Crane remains quiet, thoughtful.
Crane: "But I was going with you."
Winter doesn't look up as he takes Crane's invitation and sets it aside.
Winter: "I can't bring a male companion. I'll be going alone."
Crane frowns, confused.
Crane: "Why? I thought you invited Lady Adler. Didn't I deliver the letter myself?"
Winter finally looks at him, expression unreadable. He holds up his own opened letter.
Winter: "She declined. Here—read it."
Crane takes the letter and reads aloud.
Crane: "I regret that I must decline your invitation to the ball. I trust you will understand that circumstances beyond my control prevent my attendance. With the highest respect, Lady Adler."
Winter watches Crane's face, impassive.
Winter: "So you see. I'm attending alone."
Crane sets the letter down, disappointment flickering across his features.
Crane: "Then maybe I shouldn't go either."
Winter tilts his head.
Winter: "Why not? Lady Ford invited you. She needs a partner too."
Crane (shrugs): "Doesn't feel right."
Winter reaches out and nudges Crane's shoulder.
Winter: "Go. You'll enjoy yourself more than I will."
Crane exhales—then nods, quietly relenting.
Crane: "Alright. But what about you?"
Winter glances at the remaining letters on his desk, opening the next.
He pauses.
Winter: "Hm. A letter from Ms. Carla Huston Hayes.
Crane raises an eyebrow.
Crane: "What does she want now?"
Winter unfolds the note and reads aloud:
Winter: "It would be my honor to accompany you to the ball, Young Lord Verlice. Yours sincerely, Ms. Carla Huston Hayes."
Crane's lips twitch into a smirk.
Winter's expression stays cool, but there's a flicker of something—bemusement? Uncertainty?
He sets the letter down with a sigh.
Winter: "Interesting timing."
Hayes Estate – Carla's Dressing Room
Silk gowns in every shade hang like trophies. Maids bustle about. Carla stands before the mirror in a deep crimson gown, her smile sharp and gleaming with victory.
Carla: "He doesn't have a partner."
She lets out a soft, cruel laugh as a maid clasps a glittering necklace around her neck.
Carla: "Finally. The stars align for me."
She twirls once, admiring her reflection—dripping in ambition.
Carla: "No Lady Adler. No obstacle. Just me."
A maid offers a jeweled hairpin. Carla snatches it, pins her hair with practiced precision.
Carla: "Tonight, Winter Verlice will see I'm the only one who belongs by his side."
The room hums with tension. Carla is still, razor-focused.
Carla: "Perfect. Everything is perfect".
She adjusts her dress once more, basking in the moment—until the door creaks open. The butler steps in, bowing.
Butler: "My Lady. A letter from the Verlice Estate."
Carla's eyes gleam. She rushes forward, snatching the envelope.
Carla: "At last."
She tears it open. Her excitement freezes mid-breath as she reads.
'My Lady Hayes, Regrettably, I must decline your generous offer. I have fallen ill and would not risk endangering your health. I will attend the ball alone. I hope to repay your kindness another time. With respect, Winter Verlice.'
Silence crashes over the room. Carla stares at the letter, fingers crumpling its edge.
Carla(softly):"Sick. He's sick."
The maids exchange uneasy glances. Carla's grip tightens.
Carla(a little louder, to herself):"It's fine. Another event. Another chance."
But the glint in her eyes dims. The illusion of the perfect night slipping from her grasp.
A timid maid steps forward, holding up two ornate fans.
Maid: "My Lady… which fan would you prefer for tonight?"
Carla's head snaps toward her. Eyes blazing.
Carla: "I don't care about the damn fan!"
The maid flinches. The room goes still.
Carla trembles—rage just barely caged. Then, she turns to the mirror, breathes once, and smooths her features into a cold, immaculate smile.
Carla: "Leave it on the table. I'll choose later."
The maids vanish like shadows.
Carla stands alone, flawless in appearance. Fury, disappointment, and delusion simmer beneath her painted smile.
Winter's Study - Evening
Winter lounges at his desk, flipping through the last few letters of the day. Crane leans against the wall, arms folded, watching.
Crane: "You really turned down Lady Hayes?"
Winter doesn't look up.
Winter: "If I bring her, I'll be stuck all night. She won't let go."
He flicks the letter aside, expression unmoved.
Winter: "Women like her… exhausting."
Crane lifts an eyebrow, amused.
Crane: "That's not what I saw with Lady Adler."
Winter glances up. His eyes sharpen slightly.
Winter: "She's different."
Crane pushes off the wall, curious.
Crane: "How?"
Winter leans back, fingers drumming against the desk.
Winter: "She knows when to step back. Doesn't cling. Doesn't pretend to be something she's not."
He shrugs, casual—but there's a flicker of something deeper behind his words.
Winter: "Still trouble. Just a... rarer kind."
Crane studies him, then smirks.
Crane: "Sounds like that's the kind you prefer."
Winter doesn't respond. Just a faint, rare smile curves his lips. He turns his attention back to the letters.
Crane lingers at the door, glancing back.
Crane(under his breath): "You're not fooling anyone, Young Lord."
Winter says nothing. But that smile stays.
Imperial Palace Ball Stairs - Nights
Carriages gleam under the palace lights.Guests in silk and jewels ascend the marble steps like a river of opulence.
A carriage door opens.A single silver heel touches down — sharp, poised, deliberate.
Levi steps out.
Draped in a gown of molten silver, her navy hair pinned like falling dusk,she shines —a star no one dares reach.
Heads turn.Whispers ripple.Every eye follows her.
She stands tall, spine straight, breath controlled.Waiting.
Waiting for her knight to follow.
But no one does.
She turns, the fabric of her gown rustling like wind over snow.Confusion flickers across her face.
A voice cuts through the hush — cold and commanding.
Henry: "Your mother told you to bring a companion.You asked for a knight. That's not happening. Not with the Emperor in attendance. Either go home, or don't go in at all."
Silence.
Levi doesn't move.Her heart knocks once — loud, defiant.
But Henry has already turned away, offering his arm to the Duchess.
The servant at the top of the stairs raises his voice.
Servant: "Grand Duke Henry Adler and Grand Duchess Valerine Adler!"
The doors open with ceremony.Golden light spills out —and swallows them whole.
Levi stands alone.
Cold air grazes her shoulders.The silver dress suddenly feels too heavy.Too bright.Too bare.
The cold air wraps tighter around Levi.
For a moment, her face is blank.Silver lashes lowered.Fingers curling gently into the folds of her dress.
Her heart is heavy — bitter —and she feels it clawing up her throat.
But she exhales, slow. Controlled.And in her eyes, a quiet spark ignites.
Her hand lifts — almost lazily to any onlooker.But between her fingers, two invisible butterflies of Cynefin bloom.They dart away, silent and unseen —straight toward Consort Ivory's private chambers.
She doesn't flinch.Doesn't wait for permission.Doesn't look back.
Levi lifts her chinand steps forward.
The servant by the entrance stiffens at the shimmer of her approach.
Servant (loudly): "Lady Levi Rose Adler of House Adler, without companion!"
A hush falls across the hall.Heads turn.Eyes lock.
Levi walks in —pure silver gliding over marble.Her navy hair cascading behind her, dark and proud.
The chandeliers catch her dress,light dancing like blade edges and moonlight.
Gasps ripple.Whispers trail behind her like shadows.
She hears them.She does not listen.
Every step — slow. Measured. Unshakable.
Near the center of the ballroom, Carla Huston Hayes turns.
Wrapped in pale pink, surrounded by her handpicked crowd,Carla's smile flickers.Her fan stills.Her fingers tighten around it just once.
She does not like what she sees.
Not at all.
Across the hall, WinterVerlice leans with casual grace against a pillar.Golden eyes narrowing, just slightly.
A flicker of something — amusement? approval?He smiles — faint and sharp.
The kind of smile that says-Of course she came this way.Alone. Untouchable.
Crane, beside him, mutters something under his breath.Winter doesn't answer.He just watches.
Levi is briefly stopped.
A noblewoman bows lightly.
Noblewomen: "You look stunning, Lady Adler."
Levi smiles — polite, distant.
Levi: "Thank you."
A nobleman tries to step in.
Noble Lord: "Your companion must have been delayed?"
Levi meets his eyes, calm and unbothered.
Levi: "No. I simply chose to attend alone."
The man falters. Bows.She moves on — silver trailing like smoke.
At the far edge of the ballroom, she pauses beside a marble pillar.Away from the worst of the stares.Away from the hunger in the room.
She stands quietly.A lone star at the edge of a galaxy.
Her hands fold lightly in front of her dress.Waiting. Watching. Planning.
The butterflies of Cynefin flutter near her shoulder —invisible, whispering silent truths from across the palace.
And far across the golden room,Winter Verlice does not stop monitoring her.
The music swells — elegant, rich.Chandeliers spill golden light down marble walls.The ballroom hums with silk, glass, and secrets.
Levi stands alone beside the pillar.A breath of silver amid rivers of color.
She feels the eyes.Knows it's only a matter of time.
And then — they arrive.
Carla Huston Hayes leads a trail of young nobles, her fan snapping shut with a crisp flick.Her gown is flawless — pale pink, heavy with jewels.But her smile is not.
It is sly.Sharp around the edges.
She stops just short of Levi, head tilting, eyes gleaming with amusement that doesn't touch her soul.
Carla (sweetly): "Lady Adler... what an unexpected sight. Alone tonight?"
The nobles behind her titter — delicate, practiced.
Levi lifts her gaze.Calm. Unbothered.Her face like polished silver.
Levi (softly):"Good evening, Lady Hayes."
Carla fans herself, voice thick with honey.
Carla: "It's brave, isn't it? Coming without a companion. Some might say... reckless. In these circles, appearance is everything."
Laughter ripples again, sharper this time.
Levi's mouth curves slightly — a smile so faint it could be imagined.
Levi (pleasantly):"Indeed. Appearance is everything. Which is why some arrive with borrowed company instead of trusted ones."
The smile on Carla's face twitches.The air tightens.The group stills.
Levi's voice flows smooth as satin.
Levi: "After all — it's better to walk alone than beside someone bought... or begged."
The silence that follows cuts clean.
Carla flushes. Her grip on the fan tightens. The wood creaks beneath her hand.
Carla (sharply):"Enjoy your evening, Lady Adler."
She spins on her heel, skirts flaring, and stalks off.Her entourage scrambles after her — some casting quiet, wary glances back.
Levi doesn't move.Her posture remains regal, untouched.A queen without a throne — and needing none.
Across the ballroom, Winter Verlice watches.Arms crossed loosely.Golden eyes narrowed with faint amusement.
He smirks — like this is exactly what he expected.
Crane is no longer beside him, caught in conversation with nobles eager to orbit a Verlice.
Levi shifts — almost imperceptibly.
A whisper flutters at her ear.Invisible. Urgent.Cynefin.
Her eyes sharpen.
Without a word, she turns, slipping through the edge of the crowd like mist through marble.
At the balcony.
The night is cold.Stars scatter across the black sky like salt on obsidian.
Levi steps onto the balcony.Moonlight catches her dress — silver upon silver.She blends into it like she was born of it.
Below the balustrade, half-concealed by shadow —She sees them.
A cluster of palace maids, no older than girls,kneeling on stone.Shaking.A towering steward above them — cane raised, voice shouting things she cannot hear.
Levi's hands curl at her sides.Her butterflies rise, gathering truth from shadow — images, whispers, proof.
She does not blink.
She barely hears the footsteps behind her.
Winter appears beside her —silent as frost.
She senses him.Lifts one hand, ever so slightly.
The butterflies vanish into the night.
They say nothing.Not yet.
The air between them stretches —cold, sharp, alive.
Levi leaned against the balcony railing, the cold air brushing her skin.Silver butterflies of Cynefin flickered around her — unseen, whispering secrets from below.She remained composed.Icy. Regal.
Footsteps behind her.She didn't turn.
Winter (lightly): "Spying, Lady Adler?"
His voice was low, amused — velvet with edges.
Levi's gaze slid toward him, unbothered.
Levi: "I prefer to call it awareness."
Winter stepped closer, resting a hand on the stone railing.His golden eyes swept over the ballroom, then returned to her.He smirked.
Winter: "Bold of you to come alone. Bolder still to survive it."
Levi turned to face him, moonlight catching in the folds of her silver gown.She smiled — the kind that never touched her eyes.
Levi: "Survival is for those afraid of losing. I have nothing to lose."
Winter let out a quiet chuckle — deep, dry.
Winter: "Spoken like someone who's never lost anything that mattered."
Silence stretched.The butterflies swirled tighter around her, catching glimpses of cruelty below — pain hushed in shadow.Still, her expression never faltered.
Levi (softly): "Or someone who learned not to show it."
Winter watched her then — a little too closely.Not because she was weak. Not even proud.But untouchable.
He pushed off the railing, lazy, voice dropping with feigned ease.
Winter: "You make a lovely star tonight, Lady Adler. Pity stars tend to burn alone."
She didn't look at him.Just lifted her chin — pure dignity.
Levi: "Some are meant to be suns. Others... merely shadows trailing behind."
Winter blinked — half a beat too slow.Then smiled, quieter.
Winter: "I see. You plan to set the whole sky on fire."
Levi smiled — faint, sharp, chilling.
Levi: "Only if necessary."
And without another word, she turned.Her butterflies scattered into the dark as she stepped back into the light of the ballroom —leaving Winter alone on the balcony,still smiling to himself.
Slower this time.
Levi was the first to leave the balcony.Her silver dress shimmered under golden light as she vanished into the crowd.Whispers rippled in her wake.She didn't flinch.Chin high.Unbothered.The same composed grace she had arrived with —Untouchable.
Winter lingered behind, eyes fixed on the dark horizon.Thoughtful. Or pretending to be.Then, as if nothing had happened at all, he turned and followed her in.
Across the ballroom, near the grand staircase, Carla stood clutching a half-empty glass of wine.It trembled slightly in her grip.She had seen it.All of it.
Levi first.Then Winter.
Her fingers curled tighter around the stem.
The girls flanking her — sweet-faced, wrapped in pastels and pearls — noticed.
Girl (whispering): "Lady Hayes?"
Carla's smile came too fast. Too thin.
Carla: "Nothing."
But her eyes never left Winter —the way he slipped through the crowd like a knife dressed in velvet.Effortless. Cool. Dangerous.
What were they doing alone on that balcony?What did she have… that I didn't?
Her pulse thudded hard in her chest.
The ballroom doors groaned open.A footman stepped forward, striking his staff once against the marble.
Footman (booming): "Announcing Her Imperial Highness, Consort Ivory Huston Hayes, and His Imperial Highness, Crown Prince Beck Romerro!"
Every head turned.
Consort Ivory entered first —a vision of calculated majesty in crimson and gold.Every step whispered control.Behind her, the Crown Prince followed, puffed up in ornate regalia, his grin stretched too wide to be sincere.
The nobles bowed low.
Levi, at the far end of the room, dipped into a measured curtsy — eyes half-lowered, unreadable.Winter bowed too, his expression carved from stone.
Carla barely bent her head before slipping into the crowd, gliding quickly toward the receiving line.She reached her sister's side in seconds.
Ivory glanced at her, cool and knowing, motioning subtly with a flick of her fan.
Ivory (low): "What is it now?"
Carla leaned in, hissing.
Carla: "She was on the balcony. With Winter. Alone. Then he—he followed her back in. What if—"
Ivory's fan snapped shut with a quiet flick.
Ivory (cutting): "Calm yourself. You're making a scene."
Carla's nails bit through her silk gloves.
Carla (urgent): "You don't understand. He's supposed to—"
Ivory (sharp): "—do nothing unless we allow it."
A smile curved her lips — lovely, lethal.
"Let the girl enjoy her moment. It changes nothing."
She tapped Carla's wrist with her closed fan — like a warning masked as affection.
Carla (desperate):"But—"
Ivory (coldly): "No but, Carla."
Her voice turned glacial.
"I know precisely how to handle Lady Adler. And Winter Verlice... will walk the path we choose. Whether he realizes it or not."
Carla fell silent.Still burning, still biting her tongue.But obedient, beneath the weight of her sister's authority.
The staff struck marble again.
Footman (resounding): "Announcing His Imperial Majesty, Emperor Kealen Romerro, and Her Imperial Majesty, Empress Isolde Romerro!"
The ballroom doors opened wide.
And the room fell into breathless stillness.
Music ceased.Laughter died.A hundred nobles dropped to the floor in reverent bows.
And through the silence, like gods descending,the Emperor and Empress stepped into the light.
The Emperor and Empress took their thrones at the head of the ballroom — a living portrait of power draped in velvet and gold. Their silence alone commanded reverence.
Music resumed, softer now. Ceremonial. Almost sacred.
One by one, the nobles straightened from their bows, adjusting their cloaks and glittering finery with stiff, ritual precision.
Levi rose as well.Her silver dress, though stained, caught the chandelier light and shimmered like a blade kissed by frost.Cold. Composed. Untouchable still.
Almost immediately, nobles began to drift toward her like moths to a flame.
Fawning voices. Curated smiles.
Nobelwoman: "Lady Adler — a vision of grace tonight."
Noble Lord: "Your house must be proud to present such strength and beauty."
Noble Lord: "Surely you won't remain unclaimed for long? A rare jewel must find its setting."
Levi answered them all with her usual poised detachment — the smile of someone accustomed to flattery but unaffected by it.Charming just enough to avoid offense.Distant enough to remain unreachable.
Across the ballroom, Winter Verlice stood encircled by older lords — sharks in silks and medals, their conversation a chess game of veiled threats and disguised opportunities.
Land. Borders. Loyalties.
Winter, silent and poised, played his part with detached elegance — the perfect heir of a legendary house.
But his eyes…
Again and again, they drifted.To her.To the silver silhouette across the ballroom.
Then—A sudden jolt.
A splash like blood.
Levi gasped softly as cold red wine spilled across her gown — staining the silver bodice like a wound torn open in silk.The maid stood frozen in horror, her knees hitting marble.
Maid: "Forgive me, my lady! I—I didn't see— Please forgive—"
The nobles surrounding them flinched back, their expressions twisted in discomfort. None dared step forward.
Levi looked down at the shaking girl. Her own face was unreadable.
Then she spoke — calm, smooth, untrembling.
Levi: "It's fine, Mistakes happen."
The maid bowed lower, nearly pressing her head to the floor.
Maid: "Please, my lady — allow me to guide you to the resting room. There's fresh linen, a gown already prepared…"
Levi's eyes narrowed by a fraction.
How convenient.
Still, she gave a small nod. Let herself be led.
The hallway beyond the ballroom was quiet — thick with silence.The kind that watched.
When they entered the resting room — curtained, perfumed, dimly lit — Levi noticed everything at once.
The candles.Too many.The scent — cloying, heavy, meant to soothe.Or to sedate.
She inhaled slowly.The warmth in the air pressed against her skin, trying to crawl into her head.But her body — long attuned to cold — rejected it. Her magic swirled faintly beneath her skin, resisting the pull.
Drugged.
Levi let herself sway.One step faltered.She pressed a hand to her forehead.
The maid let out a choked apology and fled — closing the door behind her with a soft, final click.
Levi sat, slow and languid, on the velvet chaise.Pretending.Breathing unevenly.Eyes fluttering like silk in wind.
One minute.Two.
Then —Three sharp knocks.
She let her voice slip — just enough to seem dulled, sweet, helpless.
Levi: "Come in."
The door opened.
Crown Prince Beck Romerro stepped inside, his expression a portrait of entitlement soaked in wine and expectation.His robes too fine, his smile too bright.But it was his eyes — gleaming with hunger — that confirmed it.
Beck (murmured):"So obedient now,"
Voice low and curling like smoke."Not so icy anymore, are you?"
He crossed to her in a few strides, crouching beside the chaise, his breath hot with wine and audacity.
Beck (whispered): "I knew it the moment I saw you, You just needed… breaking in."
His fingers hovered over her wrist. Then brushed it.
Levi didn't flinch. Didn't move.
Beck (cooed):"Don't worry, No one will question this. After tonight…"He smirked."You'll be mine."
Her fingers, hidden beneath the folds of her skirt, curled with slow precision.
The invisible butterflies of Cynefin stirred — circling the room like silent witnesses. Watching. Recording.
Her heart beat steady. Icy.
Not yet.
Let him believe he's won.Let him confess.
Beck leaned closer, his lips brushing her ear, sickly sweet.
Beck: "Say something,"
he whispered.
"Beg me to help you."
Levi's lips parted slightly.
Not in fear.
But in calculation.
Behind her half-lidded eyes, a dangerous light flickered.A storm waiting beneath still waters.
Almost time.
Levi let her body collapse against the chaise lounge, breath faltering, lids half-lowered. Every detail of her posture spoke of surrender — dazed, beautiful, breakable.
Across from her, Crown Prince Beck Romerro prowled forward, his expression split between hunger and triumph. Wine clung to his breath like rot.
Beck (murmured): "You know, Levi,"
Voice curling like smoke,
"I always wondered how long it would take before you understood who really holds the reins."
She blinked up at him, lashes low. A delicate tremor traced her voice.
Levi (whispered):"Please… help me,"
Broken and breathless.
He smiled — wide and revolting — and leaned in, his hand skimming toward her throat. His fingers brushed her collarbone, the touch possessive, already claiming.
That was his mistake.
In one fluid motion, Levi snapped upward. Her hand clamped around his wrist — ice-cold, vice-tight. Before he could gasp, she twisted. His knees buckled from the shock, and he staggered as if the ground betrayed him.
His body hit the floor with a muffled thud. The prince of the empire, sprawled unconscious at her feet.
Levi exhaled — not relief, but calculation.
Her movements were swift. She crossed the room and vanished behind the dressing screen, stripping the ruined silver gown from her body. In its place, she chose a new gown — gold, regal, defiant. Liquid light in motion.
The silk hugged her frame, the bodice subtle yet commanding. The layers of satin at her feet moved like wildfire. Slow, dangerous, breathtaking. She adjusted the fine straps, her reflection staring back like a queen born in frost and reborn in flame.
Behind her, the corridor stirred.
The same maid — the one who'd led her here — lingered near the door, trying not to breathe.
Levi turned. Their eyes met.
The maid flinched, as if caught stealing.
Levi (low and final): "You,"
The girl froze.
Levi: "I need your help,"
Voice like the crack of a frozen lake.
"Come inside."
The maid obeyed, legs stiff with dread. Levi pulled her into the room, closing the door behind them.
She crossed to a carved wooden box near the door — the source of the sickly-sweet scent that clung to the air like a trap. Inside, she found the candles. Consort Ivory's plan, sealed in wax and perfume.
Levi took one.
She held it beneath the maid's nose.
Levi: "Smell this."
The girl recoiled.
Maid: "What—what is it?"
Levi (mumured):"Just breathe. Deeply."
The maid, dazed by fear, obeyed. One breath — and her eyes clouded. Her limbs slackened. She swayed slightly on her feet.
Perfect.
Levi turned to Beck. He groaned on the floor, disoriented. She crouched, pressed the candle to his face.
Levi (whispered, venom-sweet):"Let it in, Your Highness,"
His breath caught. His pupils shrank. His fingers twitched as though trying to grasp the air.
Levi stood and wiped her hands. The pieces were falling into place.
She glanced once more in the mirror, gold reflecting gold, power gazing back at power. She was radiant — not because she glowed, but because she commanded.
She left the room.
In the corridor's shadows, she paused, out of view.
Just beyond, Consort Ivory waited.
Her fingers fidgeted at the hem of her gown. She was too composed, her anticipation curled like a snake in her throat. She paced, glancing toward the room again and again.
When the maid didn't return, she snapped.
Ivory: "You. Go see what's taking so long."
A younger maid obeyed. Moments later, she returned, pale and wide-eyed.
Maid (stammered):"Your Grace... Something's… happening. I heard sounds. Moaning. It's started."
Ivory's eyes gleamed.
This was it. The climax of her scheme.
The Emperor. The Empress. The court. Even Winter. They would all see. Levi Adler — defiled. Disgraced. Unfit for anything but shame.
Ivory's voice turned sugary with false concern.
Ivory: "Come. We must ensure her safety…"
She turned, flanked by nobles like wolves on parade, the Emperor and Empress trailing behind with measured interest. The procession moved — toward the room.
Unaware.
Unaware that inside, the Crown Prince lay drugged. That invisible butterflies had recorded every word of his vile confession. That Levi Adler — no longer a pawn — was about to play her final card.
And outside, in the gilded hush of the hallway, she waited.
Waiting for the fall.