royals

In the grand hall, Lavinia stood before the towering, ornately carved doors, their majestic presence exuding authority. Two guards flanked them, awaiting her silent command to open them. She was adorned in an emerald-green royal gown, the rich fabric cascading in elegant layers that shimmered under the golden light. The dress bared her back in an audacious display of confidence, her honey-golden hair draping over her shoulders, barely concealing her glowing skin. Around her slender neck hung a delicate gold necklace, shaped like an ancient key—a quiet yet bold statement of mystery. Her eyes, half-hidden by wisps of her bangs, sparkled with something unspoken—a flicker of amusement, calculation, and perhaps a touch of madness.

Behind her, Nora stood in composed patience. Unlike the other maids, she was dressed in a tailored black gown, designed specifically for her by Lavinia's order. Its fine silk and intricate details set her apart, a silent declaration that she was no ordinary servant. A matching black foulard secured her neatly braided brown hair, and her sharp black eyes continuously swept the room, ever-vigilant despite the presence of guards.

Five more minutes passed before Lavinia gave a subtle nod. The guards responded immediately, pushing open the heavy doors to reveal a vast salon. At its center, a grand dining table gleamed under the warm, magically infused lighting, designed to illuminate without overwhelming. Portraits of past rulers adorned the walls, watching over the chamber like silent sentinels.

At the head of the table sat Emperor Alexander IV of Eldoria, a man in his early fifties. His short-cropped hair was a blend of black and gray, his sharp features bearing the unmistakable marks of time, yet his presence remained as imposing as ever. His golden-honey eyes—mirrors of Lavinia's own—reflected wisdom and an unwavering sense of command. He wore his black and gold royal garments with effortless authority, the heavy fabric resting upon his broad shoulders like a natural extension of himself.

Seated beside him was Esmeralda Forgeo, the Empress. At forty-five, she radiated a regal beauty, her red-orange hair swept into a perfect high bun. Her emerald-green eyes gleamed with a sharp intelligence, and her flawless skin was accentuated by the deep red of her gown, which elegantly revealed just enough to command attention. The smile on her lips was carefully curated—warm in appearance, yet dripping with veiled malice.

As the guard announced Lavinia's arrival, she stepped forward, offering a poised smile. Her father observed her in silence for a moment before mirroring her expression, the resemblance between them uncanny. He gestured for her to sit, and she obliged, sparing a fleeting glance at Esmeralda, whose sweet, motherly facade remained firmly in place.

"Good day, Your Majesties," Lavinia greeted as she gracefully took her seat.

"You can drop the formalities, Lavinia," Alexander said, swirling the wine in his goblet. "We are family."

Esmeralda's smile deepened, her voice saccharine. "Alexander is right, sweetie. No need for such stiffness among loved ones."

Lavinia returned the smile with equal warmth—two masterful performers on an intimate stage. Esmeralda studied her for a long moment before sighing and shifting her attention back to her husband, her expression softening into something almost devoted. The sight made Lavinia's stomach churn, though she kept her expression impassive. With a slight motion, she signaled Nora to leave. The maid bowed and exited quietly, her steps careful.

Esmeralda delicately picked up her fork, her gaze brimming with quiet satisfaction.

"Honey, since we finally have a moment together, why don't you tell Lavinia about our concerns?"

Lavinia noted the way her fingers subtly tightened around the utensil, the calculated ease in her tone. A flicker of amusement crossed Lavinia's face as she lazily twirled the knife in her hand, fully aware of the empress's growing irritation.

Alexander exhaled heavily, setting down his goblet. "She's right. We are worried about you, which is why we have arranged a marriage for you."

Silence stretched between them.

Lavinia's smile did not falter. "And let me guess—I have no say in this?"

Alexander held her gaze, unflinching, the lion studying his cub. For a fleeting moment, something unreadable passed between them. Then, she let out a quiet chuckle, nodding as if she had expected nothing less.

Esmeralda took the reaction as a victory, resting a hand on Alexander's in a show of support.

"Well," Lavinia mused, "I do hope you've at least chosen someone handsome."

"Liv," Alexander warned, his voice carrying a rare weight.

Lavinia tilted her head, watching him for a long moment before shaking her head. "Don't call me that. I'm quite sure you don't want to."

A flicker of something—pain, perhaps—crossed his face, and for the first time that evening, the air between them felt truly heavy. Esmeralda's gaze darted between them, noting her husband's sudden pallor. Her perfectly curated mask cracked just enough for a sliver of confusion to seep through.

"Honey," she cooed, squeezing his hand. "Lavinia, it looks like your father is upset. Why don't you try apologizing?"

Lavinia ignored her, rising from her seat just as an attendant entered the room. The man, dressed in Eldorian royal attire—a deep navy suit embroidered with gold—bowed before approaching Alexander's side, whispering in his ear. The emperor nodded, exhaling as he stood.

"I have urgent matters to attend to," he announced. "Enjoy your time together."

With that, he exited, leaving Lavinia and Esmeralda alone.

Lavinia took a step toward the door. "Looks like I should go as well. Enjoy your dinner, step-mother."

"Wait."

The warmth in Esmeralda's voice had vanished, replaced by something colder. Lavinia turned, her expression unreadable. The empress motioned for her to walk with her.

They strolled in silence, their heels clicking against the marble floor.

"Let's drop the act, shall we?" Esmeralda's voice was sharper now, the veneer of maternal affection slipping away.

Lavinia chuckled. "I don't know what you mean, step-mother."

Esmeralda's smirk returned. "You're not fooling me. At the end of the day, it's just a game."

Lavinia looped her arm through Esmeralda's, mirroring her expression. "If I were you, I wouldn't be so sure."

Esmeralda's smile tightened. "Your antics will only upset your father."

A glint of something unreadable flickered in Lavinia's eyes. "You flatter me. I'm sure my father will forgive me, as he always does."

The empress yanked her arm away, her voice a whisper. "I know what you're planning."

Lavinia raised a brow. "Do you?"

Esmeralda's jaw clenched. "You act innocent, but I see through you."

Lavinia's smile turned razor-sharp. "Then you should also know—if I ever choose to spend my time on you, I will make sure your death matters to me."

Esmeralda stiffened, rage flickering in her eyes, but Lavinia merely turned away, walking down the dimly lit corridor.

Tonight, she had something far more important to do.