Chapter 11: The Game Begins

The halls of the palace felt different now. Servants who once scurried past her without a second glance now hesitated, their eyes darting toward her as if unsure whether to bow, speak, or flee. The whispers had spread like wildfire—the forgotten Fourth Princess had changed.

Antoinette didn't rush. She walked with the same unhurried grace she had at breakfast, letting the weight of her presence settle over the palace. Let them talk. Let them wonder. Fear was a slow poison, and she had only just begun administering the dose.

She had barely stepped into her chambers when Marie hurried in behind her, shutting the door with more force than necessary.

"My lady," Marie gasped, eyes wide. "They're saying—well, everyone is saying—you—"

Antoinette turned, raising an eyebrow. "I what?"

Marie pressed a hand to her chest, catching her breath. "You challenged the Queen. Humiliated the princesses. Defied tradition. Walked away unscathed." She paused, voice lowering in awe. "And you smirked while doing it."

Antoinette allowed herself a small chuckle as she moved toward the vanity, unfastening the golden embroidery at her sleeves. "Was that all? I expected worse."

Marie stared at her, somewhere between admiration and pure terror. "The Queen will summon you."

"Of course, she will," Antoinette said, picking up a silver hairpin from the vanity and twirling it between her fingers. "But I wonder… how long will she make me wait?"

Marie paled. "You mean…?"

"I mean she needs time to decide how to deal with me." Antoinette met Marie's eyes in the mirror. "She expected me to crumble the moment she questioned me. Instead, I handed her embarrassment in front of the entire court."

Marie swallowed. "What are you going to do?"

Antoinette smiled. "I'm going to let her stew."

Hours passed.

Antoinette kept herself occupied—reviewing old political records she had Marie dig up, casually flipping through court etiquette books she had previously ignored. She had to be prepared for anything.

By late afternoon, the summons came. A servant arrived, stiff and pale as he bowed. "Her Majesty requests your presence in the Solar Room."

Marie tensed, wringing her hands. "The Solar Room?"

Antoinette caught the unease in her voice. "Explain."

Marie hesitated before whispering, "It's where the Queen receives those she intends to correct."

Ah. A private stage for humiliation.

Antoinette set down the book in her lap, smoothing the fabric of her gown. "Let's not keep her waiting then, shall we?"

The Solar Room was bathed in golden light, warm and deceiving. The Queen sat near the window, her gown pristine as ever, her hands folded in her lap. A portrait of calm control.

"Antoinette," the Queen greeted smoothly. "Come, sit."

Antoinette took her time stepping forward, lowering herself into the chair opposite her stepmother. This was a battle of wills now.

The Queen studied her carefully. "You've been… different, lately."

Antoinette tilted her head. "Have I?"

A flicker of irritation crossed the Queen's expression. "You know you have. Your behavior this morning was—"

"Necessary," Antoinette finished.

The Queen's fingers twitched. "You humiliated your sisters."

"They underestimated me," Antoinette countered.

"You defied me."

"I corrected you."

The Queen's gaze sharpened. "And what exactly are you playing at, my dear?"

Antoinette leaned back in her chair, a picture of ease. "No game, Mother. I simply realized something recently."

"And what is that?"

Antoinette smiled, slow and deliberate. "That I am the daughter of a King."

The Queen's expression didn't waver, but Antoinette caught it—the slight tensing of her jaw, the way her nails pressed into her silk gloves. She didn't like that.

"Your newfound boldness is amusing," the Queen said at last. "But do not mistake momentary spectacle for power. You are still… lacking."

Ah. There it was. The first real attempt to shake her confidence.

Antoinette met her gaze, unbothered. "If I am lacking, then it is fortunate I have so much room to grow."

A silence stretched between them, heavy and unspoken. The Queen was testing her. Prodding for weakness. Finding none.

Finally, the Queen smiled—a slow, poisonous thing. "Then I hope you will prove yourself in the Trial of the Crown."

Antoinette's blood ran cold.

So that was it.

The Queen was inviting her to play the game.

"I wouldn't dream of disappointing you," Antoinette said smoothly.

The Queen inclined her head. "Then let us see if your sudden confidence can carry you further than just words."

Antoinette rose from her seat, giving the Queen a perfectly measured curtsy. "Of course, Mother."

As she turned to leave, the Queen spoke once more, voice like silk hiding a blade.

"One last thing, my dear."

Antoinette paused.

"Do be careful," the Queen murmured. "Confidence is admirable. Arrogance, however… can be deadly."

Antoinette didn't so much as flinch.

She turned her head slightly, lips curling into something that wasn't quite a smile.

"So I've heard," she replied.

And then she walked out.

Marie nearly tackled her the moment they reached the hallway.

"What happened?! What did she say?!"

Antoinette barely glanced at her as she kept walking. "She invited me to play."

Marie blinked. "Play?"

"The Trial of the Crown," Antoinette murmured. "She's daring me to compete."

Marie grabbed her arm, looking half panicked. "You can't! It's rigged, it's—"

Antoinette placed a hand over Marie's, silencing her.

"Then I suppose I'll have to break the game."

Marie's breath caught. "You're serious?"

Antoinette finally stopped walking, meeting Marie's wide eyes.

"Marie," she said, her voice quiet but unshakable. "I am going to be Queen."