Her Mask, My Mirror

I couldn't sleep after what I learned.

The Queen's face kept flashing in my head — not her fake smile, no. The real one. The cold, careful one that signed my mother's death like it was just another piece of paperwork.

I held the mask in my hand again. The same one I wore at the masquerade. Funny how a piece of carved gold can feel heavier than a sword.

People say masks hide who you are.

I think they show it.

They show what you want the world to see — not what's inside.

That's why I wore it again that morning. Not for a ball. Not for beauty. But because today, I wasn't walking into the palace as Milena, the forgotten noble girl. I was walking in as a threat.

"Where are you going?" Adrien asked, standing at my door like always.

"Where they buried my family," I said.

He knew better than to argue. Good.

The palace halls were warm and glittering. Everyone smiled. Laughed. Toasted.

And not a single one of them remembered what happened eighteen years ago.

But I did.

I walked straight into the Queen Regent's morning tea.

She looked up at me with the calm of someone who thinks they're untouchable.

"Lady Milena," she said, like we were old friends.

I said nothing.

She lifted her cup.

"Do join us."

I didn't move. I held my mask. I stared. Then I said, loud enough for the nobles nearby to freeze mid-sip:

"I know what you did to the House of Lioren."

The Queen didn't blink. She just smiled — thinner this time. Less warmth. More... warning.

Around us, whispers started like wind in dry grass.

Let them whisper.

I lowered the mask and looked her dead in the eye.

"You tried to erase us. But I'm still here."

She didn't say a word.

Not yet.

But her knuckles turned white around the teacup.

Good.

Now she knew:

The game had finally begun.