Chapter Twelve

The palace of Vandamore buzzed like a hive on the morning of the royal assembly. The servants moved with frantic precision—sweeping marble floors until they gleamed, adjusting tapestries, and arranging vibrant flowers in golden vases. It was as though the walls themselves were holding their breath.

A sharp voice echoed down the halls, cutting through the air like a blade.

"Sarah?! What on earth are you still doing up there? I need you down here this instant—we don't have the luxury of time today!" Queen Alexandra's voice rang with regal irritation.

"Coming, my queen!" Sarah called back.

She turned from the doorway of Princess Samantha's chambers, her green eyes flashing with mischief. She leaned in a little and whispered, "Just a word of advice... maybe try not to look too much like your sister today. The prince has a reputation for making quick judgments. I'd hate for him to take the wrong bride home."

With that, Sarah spun around and disappeared down the hallway, her golden slippers tapping rhythmically against the polished floors.

Samantha watched her go, expression unreadable, then muttered, "Sister, my foot."

She turned toward the tall mirror standing by her vanity. Her reflection stared back—elegant, yes, but something about her always looked... off. Like she wasn't entirely meant to fit here. She reached for a goblet of water and took a long sip, trying to shake off the tension crawling up her spine. The weight of the day had already begun to press down on her.

She stepped toward the arched doorway, intending to descend to the assembly, when a low murmur stopped her. Voices—hushed but intense—drifted from the corridor that led to the royal library. She paused, then quietly padded down the hall, her slippers making no sound against the thick carpet. She slipped behind one of the heavy velvet curtains lining the corridor and held her breath.

Queen Alexandra's voice, sharp and urgent, carried through the still air.

"We need them, Martha! I don't care how risky it seems. If we don't form an alliance with their kingdom, we may never uncover the other half of the Tree of Blessing!"

"Lower your voice, Alex!" Lady Martha hissed. "If anyone hears you speaking about the Tree—"

"Do you think I care if someone hears?" the Queen snapped. "The Tree is the only thing powerful enough to secure our legacy—and stop the chaos that's already begun to brew in the northern provinces. Don't you see, Martha? Without it, this entire kingdom could fall apart."

Samantha blinked. The Tree of Blessing? She had never heard of it. Not in her studies, not in the bedtime stories Rosella once told, not even in the secret scrolls she sometimes sneaked out to read at night.

Then came something far more chilling.

"Think about Rosella and her sister... and Samantha. If they find out the truth, especially that Samantha—"

Samantha didn't hear the rest. Her breath caught. What truth? What were they hiding about her? And why, suddenly, did it feel like everything she believed about her life in Vandamore was nothing but a carefully built illusion?