Chapter Thirteen

Samantha stood there, frozen behind the curtain, her thoughts spiraling. Every word she'd overheard weighed heavy on her mind. There was something they were keeping from her—something tied to Rosella, the Tree of Blessing, and her identity. What secret was buried so deep it needed to be hidden from the kingdom's own princess?

She slowly backed away, careful not to make a sound. Her chest tightened with each step. A thousand questions raged through her mind, but there was no time for answers—not yet.

As she turned the corner toward her room, a familiar voice called out.

"There you are!" Sarah approached, adjusting her silver sash. "Honestly, you're taking forever. The queen is ready to tear her hair out."

Samantha forced a small smile. "I was just... getting some air."

Sarah gave her a once-over, unconvinced. "Well, your dress is still on the bed, and the prince is due to arrive any moment. You really want to show up looking like a plain maid?"

"Maybe I do," Samantha muttered under her breath.

Sarah smirked. "Suit yourself. Just don't be surprised when everyone's eyes turn to Rosella instead. She was born for this, you know."

Samantha didn't respond. She slipped into her room and shut the door, leaning against it for a second as the silence wrapped around her. Her eyes drifted to the blue gown laid out on her bed—flowing silk, embroidered with patterns of stars and vines. A gown fit for royalty, for the future of Vandamore. For someone like Rosella.

But what if that future isn't what they say it is? she thought.

She dressed quickly, her mind racing. Her fingers trembled as she fastened the silver brooch at her collar. Then, with one final glance in the mirror, she straightened her shoulders and made her way to the Great Hall.

The corridors were now nearly empty—everyone had gathered. As she reached the balcony that overlooked the entrance, she paused. Down below, the grand golden doors opened, and trumpets sounded in harmonious greeting.

The Prince of Helvaron had arrived.

He stepped into the hall with a presence that silenced every breath. Tall, with dark, windswept hair and piercing gray eyes, he wore a navy cloak with the sigil of his kingdom—a phoenix rising from flames. His eyes scanned the room quickly, pausing only briefly when Rosella descended the steps with practiced elegance.

Samantha watched from above, heart pounding. For a moment, his eyes flicked up—just for a second—and locked with hers. A strange sensation swept over her. Not curiosity. Not attraction. Recognition.

He knew her.

She stepped back into the shadows instinctively. Something wasn't right. The prince's gaze hadn't lingered on Rosella—not the way it had on her.

Down below, Queen Alex raised her voice, smiling grandly. "Welcome to Vandamore, Your Highness. We hope you find what you seek here."

His response was smooth, yet measured. "I already sense that I will."

But Samantha wasn't sure that was a promise.

It felt like a warning.