chapter 4- The 'Fiery Night'

The walls of the royal palace echoed with the murmur of intrigue. The announcement of the queen's meeting with the king commanded significant attention from the palace staff and the broader social circles.

The details of Anastasia's escape and capture are concealed from everyone. 

"Annola, hurry up with your hands! The oil is beginning to sizzle dangerously," Madam Nola, the formidable head chef of the royal palace, cautioned, her finger jabbing toward the bubbling pot. The heat shimmered above the surface, casting a golden glow that danced in the flickering light. Annola hurriedly grabbed the bowl of diced onions, her heart racing, and swiftly poured them into the pot. As the onions hit the hot oil, a savory aroma burst forth, mingling with the rising steam.

The kitchen was lively with personnel. 

"Brichitte…make two additional batches of pumpkin pie." 

"Certainly, madam Nola," Brichitte, the blonde-haired woman, hurried to the fruit counter. 

"Did you see the lady today?" Bella inquired, her hands deftly stirring the steaming tea as she cast a sidelong glance at Julia.

Julia let out a weary sigh, her fingers gently placing the delicate coffee cup on the polished tabletop. Assigned the role of personal maid to Anastasia, the puppet queen, Julia felt the weight of her responsibilities pressing down on her.

As she entered the dimly lit chamber to awaken the queen, the thick silence enveloped her like a heavy blanket. She navigated through the shadows to the tall windows, where she pulled back the heavy, white curtains with a decisive sweep. Sunlight spilt into the room, illuminating dust particles dancing in the air. When Julia turned around, her breath caught in her throat. 

There, perched by the window, sat Anastasia. The queen's gaze was lost in the distance, her pale face hauntingly expressionless and tainted with an unmistakable air of dread. She was still clad in the same elegant dress from the night before, the fabric now slightly crumpled, as if she had been trapped in time. Julia approached her, concern etching her features as she tried to discern the source of the queen's turmoil.

"Your Highness, shall I prepare the bath for you?" the maid, Julia, ventured cautiously, casting a hopeful glance at Anastasia. The princess, however, was lost in her world, her semi-closed eyes staring into the depths of the flickering shadows that danced along the walls.

"Your Grace?" Julia pressed, her voice tinged with an urgency that filled the quiet room.

The unexpected insistence jolted Anastasia from her reverie, and she turned her gaze toward Julia, surprise flickering in her eyes.

"Yes?" she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Bath?" Julia reiterated, a hint of frustration threading through her tone.

"Indeed, get it ready," Anastasia finally replied, Julia let out a deep sigh and turned away, her heart heavy for her enigmatic mistress.

"What colour did you choose for the dress tonight?" Agnes interjected eagerly, her curiosity piqued as she leaned forward with interest. Bess, cradling her teacup delicately, glanced over at Agnes and the three other concubines, their collective presence filling the room with a palpable tension.

"Honestly, I'm uncertain; I'll opt for something that pleases the eye and is enjoyable to wear," Bess replied, a faint smile hinting at her lips.

"Indeed, indeed," Agnes affirmed, her voice strong with conviction. "We ought to be humble and perform at our finest. 'The Fiery Night' is an essential celebration for our realm."

For the last fifty years, the king's mother had orchestrated this grand event known as the "Fiery Night," drawing together the kingdom's most esteemed figures for a singular evening of lavishness and intrigue. It was here, amid the swirling gowns and glimmering jewels, that most clandestine messages were exchanged, and whispered secrets floated gently through the air. Young men and women mingled with purpose, their hearts set on finding their honourable match among the glittering throng.

The evening came, beckoning visitors to the royal palace. Notable royals came in magnificent carriages. The royal hall began to fill over time. It was adorned with a golden motif. Flowers in white and yellow blossomed in the corridor. 

Prime Minister Duke Alfred Thornton entered the grand hall, his presence commanding yet warm, accompanied by his elegant spouse, Duchess Esther, whose radiant gown shimmered like a cascade of stars. They were followed closely by their son, Lord Sebastian Thornton, the esteemed commander of Hwagwande, a striking figure whose mere entrance elicited a palpable buzz among the gathering. Every young woman present turned their gaze toward him as if pulled by an invisible thread; after all, he was the realm's most coveted bachelor, an attractive and charismatic heir with a bright future ahead as the future Duke.

Treading alongside him was his beloved sister, Lady Charlet, who seemed to glow with an ethereal beauty. Her shimmering golden hair framed her delicate features, while her sparkling blue eyes—an enchanting shade reminiscent of the clearest skies—radiated innocence and grace. Together, they made their way into the ballroom, a striking duo that turned every head as they captivated the hearts of all who beheld them.

"Prime Minister Duke Thornton," Duke Kassian greeted his superior with a charming smile that masked the tension underlying their interaction. The atmosphere in the grand hall was thick with the murmur of noble conversations and the rustle of fine garments as Duke Alfred extended his hand for a firm shake, pulling him into a brief but cordial embrace. Duchess Esther stood gracefully beside her husband, her presence exuding warmth as she welcomed Kassian, a longtime family friend.

"Where is your family, Kassian?" Duke Alfred inquired, his sharp gaze scanning the lavish surroundings decorated with golden accents and rich tapestries, searching for the familiar faces of Kassian's loved ones.

"The Duchess and my daughters are with Countess Himpilfred," Duke Kassian replied, his tone laced with a hint of exasperation. He turned slightly, nodding toward the southern end of the hall where his wife, the elegant Duchess, and their two daughters stood in animated conversation with the Countess. "They've been discussing about Bridget," he added, the weight of the words hanging heavily between them.

Duchess Esther, noticing the brief flicker of displeasure on Duke Kasian's face, offered a thoughtful observation. "The countess must be excited to introduce her nephew to Bridget," she remarked, attempting to ease the tension that had suddenly seeped into their dialogue. Her interpretation of his blank look was perceptive; he was dissatisfied with the idea of matchmaking, which was uncomfortable for him.

Suddenly, the large oval door, intricately adorned with gilded carvings, swung open with a dramatic flourish, announcing the king's arrival. The sound of drums filled the air, a harmonious blend that heralded.

 "HIS MAJESTY KING DEMETRIUS BENJAMIN II APPROACHES", as declared by the sentinel in a voice that reverberated through the hall.

Moments later, King Demetrius stepped into the hall, a regal figure that commanded immediate attention. His presence soared with grandeur and grace, accentuated by a long, heavy red robe that flowed over his royal black attire, embroidered with symbols of his reign. Eyes widened in admiration, though they also held a trace of uncertainty at what would come next.

But it was his companion that truly captured the crowd's astonishment. Queen Anastasia glided in beside him, her radiance almost overpowering. Dressed in an ethereal white gown with long sleeves that billowed softly, she seemed to float rather than walk. Her hair was fashioned in a classic bun, intricately adorned with fresh flowers that framed her delicate features. A collective murmur rippled through the assembly—"What is she doing here?" echoed in unison across the minds of the curious guests, their intrigue building at the sight of the unexpected partnership between the monarch and his young queen.