Isoda

> They erased her name. Burned her bloodline. Left her for dead.

But Milena survived. Reborn into the heart of the empire that destroyed her, she moves through the royal courts like a shadow—silent, sharp, watching.

She has no interest in love. No patience for power games. Only one goal: make the crown remember what it tried to forget.

Then she meets him—the Crown Prince.
The man who unknowingly signed her family’s death.
The man who starts to notice her.
The man who, slowly… she can’t stop thinking about.

This is not the story of a girl who wanted to be queen.

This is the story of a forgotten heir who falls in love with her enemy… and still plans to bring down the kingdom

The forgotten blood

Dozens of nobles twirled beneath high arched ceilings, their laughter echoing like chimes. Masks shimmered over every face — peacock feathers, crystal veils, velvet shadows. No names. No titles. Just rank hidden behind beauty.

Milena stepped through the palace doors like a shadow that did not belong.

Her gown of deep bronze and black caught in the candlelight like fire in ink. Her mask — silver-edged and garnet-studded — gleamed as if dusted with flame. Her hair, red with a single black strand curling loose across her cheek, made the chamber fall silent for half a second when she entered.

A noble near the drink table whispered, "Who is that?"

"I don't know," said another, "but she moves like she owns the room."

She did not smile. She didn't need to.

She wandered through the ballroom with practiced grace, noting faces, overhearing names. Most of the nobles were strangers. A few wore the colors of houses who had once pledged to House Eldryn… now laughing beside the very people who destroyed it.

She felt Gareth's eyes watching from the upper gallery, always near, always armed. Just in case.

"All rise for His Royal Highness, Crown Prince Thorian of Velmire."

She turned with the crowd, head lowered just enough. But her heart raced.

The Crown Prince descended the marble stairs in midnight blue and gold, his mask simple, noble, commanding. His gaze swept the ballroom once — then stopped.

He moved with effortless grace toward her, nobles parting like tidewater. Milena felt every step — like fate walking on polished stone.

When he reached her, he gave a slight bow.

Milena curtsied smoothly, hiding her fury behind a polite smile. "Of course, Your Highness."

"You're not from the capital," he said, voice calm and curious.

"You don't ask questions. Most do."

She smiled faintly. "Maybe I already know the answers."

He tilted his head. "You remind me of someone."

"And you," she replied, "are exactly who I expected."

They danced across the floor — flame and crown, past and present, hunter and prey — unaware of the storm simmering between them.

He didn't know she was the girl whose house he'd erased.

A Stranger in Velvet and Gold