A Caged Destiny

Celine's mind was spinning. The moment her eyes met the young man, across the throne room, something in her chest tightened, an unfamiliar pull, deep and unsettling. His golden gaze was unreadable, cold, yet piercing, as if he could see right through her.

Then, just as quickly as he had entered, the doors swung shut behind him, leaving only the echo of his presence behind.

The silence stretched, thick with unspoken words.

Celine's legs felt unsteady, her body still reeling from everything that had happened. The revelation of her lineage, the forced marriage, the kingdom's bond she didn't understand, each truth felt like a separate dagger lodged into her ribs.

A sharp exhale from the king drew her back to the present.

"You will be prepared for your new role immediately," he declared, his voice void of emotion. "Your days as a commoner are over."

Celine's head snapped toward him, anger bubbling beneath her skin. "Oh, how generous of you," she bit out, voice dripping with sarcasm. "One moment I'm nothing, and the next, I'm a royal pawn for your political games. Do I at least get a 'welcome home' feast, or is that too much to ask?"

The queen's lips parted slightly as if suppressing a reaction, but the king's face remained impassive.

"You should watch your tongue," he warned. "You may be my daughter by blood, but you will not be treated as one until you prove yourself worthy."

Something inside Celine cracked at those words.

She had never truly belonged with the Smiths… and now, even her real family saw her as nothing more than a tool.

Her fingers curled into fists. "Then maybe you should have left me where I was."

The king's gaze darkened, but before he could respond, two women stepped forward from the side of the throne room.

Draped in elegant gowns, their expressions perfectly neutral, they bowed before the queen.

"Take her to be dressed properly," the queen instructed, her voice softer than the king's but no less firm. "She cannot be presented to the court looking like… that."

Celine's cheeks burned as she glanced down at her dress, now wrinkled and dirt-stained from her journey. She didn't care what these nobles thought of her, but the command still stung.

She barely had time to react before the women each took an arm, guiding her forcefully toward the side doors.

She turned her head over her shoulder, locking eyes with the queen one last time.

And there it was again… that strange familiarity, that almost imperceptible hesitation, as if the queen wanted to say something but wouldn't.

Then the doors closed behind her, and the moment was gone.

The women led her down a series of hallways, their hands firm but not harsh. They didn't speak to her directly, only murmured instructions to the waiting maids when they reached a massive chamber.

Celine barely had a moment to take in the grand space before she was ushered toward a gilded chair in front of an ornate mirror.

The maids surrounded her in an instant, their hands swift as they unfastened the ties of her dress.

"Woah, wait. What are you…"

"Hold still, your Highness," one of the women said smoothly, as if Celine wasn't squirming under their grip.

'Her Highness'.

The title made her stomach twist.

Before she could protest further, her old dress was peeled away, leaving her in just her undergarments. She crossed her arms instinctively, glaring at her reflection in the mirror.

A stranger stared back.

Was this really who she was now?

One of the maids stepped forward with a brush, carefully pulling it through Celine's tangled curls. The soft strokes should have been comforting, but instead, they made her feel… small.

Like a doll being prepared for display.

Her hair was twisted and pinned, her skin dusted with fragrant oils, her body wrapped in layers of silk and lace until she barely recognized herself.

When they finally stepped back, she forced herself to look at her reflection again.

A princess stared back.

Dark curls framed her face in elegant waves, her green eyes standing out sharper against the deep emerald gown they had dressed her in. The color, she realized, was almost identical to the queen's eyes.

Her mother's eyes.

The thought sent a strange, unwelcome pang through her chest.

"Beautiful," one of the women murmured.

Celine scoffed. "If you say so."

They didn't react, only motioned for her to follow as they led her back toward the main halls.

As they walked, whispers drifted from the corners of the palace.

"She looks like the queen."

"No, like the king. Look at her stance."

"An outsider, raised like a commoner… unworthy."

Celine forced herself to ignore them, keeping her chin high as they approached a grand set of doors.

The court awaited her.

The moment she stepped inside, the weight of a hundred gazes fell upon her.

The royal court was a sea of silk and jewels, noble families draped in wealth and power, their eyes sharp as they watched her every movement.

She knew that look.

She had seen it in Ravenshire, in the eyes of villagers who whispered behind her back.

An outsider.

A heavy voice cut through the murmurs.

"The lost princess of the Nightbane family, returned at last."

Celine turned to see an older man, dressed in deep crimson robes, watching her closely. He was clearly someone important, an advisor, perhaps.

"She certainly does look the part," another voice chimed in, belonging to a noblewoman draped in pearls. "But appearances can be deceiving."

Celine held back an eye roll.

"She has her mother's face," a man added. "But does she have her blood?"

Celine clenched her fists. She had passed the test, hadn't she? Was that not enough for them?

She was about to snap back when a cool, lilting voice cut through the chatter.

"Blood or not, I expected more from a so-called princess."

Celine turned sharply.

A woman stood at the far end of the room, surrounded by a small group of finely dressed nobles.

She was stunning, raven-black hair, icy blue eyes, lips painted the color of wine. Everything about her screamed wealth, grace… and danger.

Celine had never met her before, but she already hated her.

The woman stepped forward, a slow smirk curling at her lips. "Did they not teach you how to hold your tongue in that village of yours?"

A few nobles chuckled.

Celine smiled sweetly. "Oh, I was taught plenty of things. But none of them included bowing to self-important peacocks."

The room fell silent.

The noblewoman's eyes flashed, her perfect composure faltering for just a second.

Then she laughed, though there was no humor in it. "Ah. I see now. You think sharp words can make up for a lack of breeding. How charming."

Celine's smile didn't waver. "Well, I'd rather be charming than a venomous little snake."

The court gasped. Someone actually snorted.

The noblewoman's expression darkened, but before she could respond, the advisor stepped between them.

"That is enough," he said, voice firm. "Lady Selene, you will show respect to the princess. …And you, Your Highness…" His gaze shifted to Celine, unreadable. "You will learn to control your temper."

Celine lifted a brow. "That depends. Do I have to?"

The sheer exasperation on his face was almost funny.

But deep down, Celine knew she had just made an enemy.

And something told her Lady Selene wasn't the kind to forgive and forget.