Chapter 3: The rulemaker

"You look well today, Prince Julian," Mira said, her soft smile as natural as morning dew. She adjusted her simple braid and smoothed the soft ivory skirt of her gown, humble but clean—always clean.

Prince Julian studied her with calm eyes that shimmered like polished bronze under sunlight. The man was poised, thoughtful, and already years ahead of his peers in strategy and grace. But there was one thing he lacked—someone to keep him grounded in a world of masks.

"You always say that, Mira," he replied with a subtle curve of his lips. “Do you mean it?”

“I do. I mean everything I say.” Mira tilted her head slightly, letting a breeze catch strands of her wind-swept brown hair. “And you always walk straighter after hearing it.”

That got a faint laugh out of him.

His guards signaled—the meeting was about to begin.

“I must go. The advisors will drown me in paperwork if I’m late again,” he said, rolling his eyes.

“Then go, and show them what you are made of,” she said softly, like a passing wind—gentle, honest, refreshing.

Prince Julain smiled and planted a kiss on her cheek before leaving.

As soon as he turned and stepped through the golden archway of the council chamber, Mira’s entire expression dropped.

“Oh hell.”

She broke into a sprint.

---

Through alleyways and cobbled lanes, the modest Mira was gone—replaced by a whirlwind of thoughts, urgency, and looming scandal.

She had exactly forty-seven minutes to become Celeste.

And Celeste was not someone who could walk into a noble salon with Mira’s sun-dried cheeks and worn sandals.

No, Celeste was divine.

Celeste dripped with luxury.

Celeste needed time—and lashes—and powdered pearls.

Between roles, Verena had slipped into the form of a blonde maid—a minor cover she used occasionally when she needed to navigate the noble quarters without being seen as either Mira or Celeste.

Her eyes, pale and glass-like with an uncanny jewel sheen, made people look away quickly, offering her the perfect invisibility. Dressed in a faded grey uniform and a headscarf that shadowed most of her face, she kept her gait slow, her hands slightly outstretched like someone feeling their way through the world.

It was a good form—harmless, unnoticeable, and useful when she needed to slip through side doors or overhear gossip near noble courtyards.

As she cut through the market and ducked beneath balconies, she muttered under her breath, “Why did I schedule tea with the marquis’ enemies today…”

Then—collision.

The force jolted her slightly, and she instinctively stepped back—but the moment her vision flickered into focus, her breath caught. He was striking. Tall and lean, dressed in an understated black coat with polished boots that gleamed despite the dust around him.

He had dark black hair that was tousled perfectly, as if he had been sculpted to look that casually dangerous. But it was his eyes—deep maroon, rich like old wine—that caught her. Serious, sharp, and searching.

She let herself linger for one heartbeat longer than she should have, quietly wondering why a man like him looked like royalty lost in a commoner’s world.

“Are you alright?” he asked, voice low and steady.

She smiled—Verena always smiled when danger looked her in the eyes.

“Quite alright, just late,” she said, brushing off her skirt. “Do you need something?”

“I’m looking for the noble district. I have an appointment at House Ravensdale,” he said, gaze holding hers for a beat too long.

Velena tried to stay composed. She knew that house very well.

Out of place here in the village. No dust on his boots, but he blended in anyway, like a wolf in monk’s robes.

“Oh, that’s just two streets over, take a left at the well and follow the marble posts,” she said sweetly, tilting her head.

He didn’t move.

Instead, he stared. “Thank you… Miss?”

“Mirabel,” she said, the name rolling off her tongue like sugar.

There was no way she was going to give her real name to this man.

She left before he could say anything more.

---

She burst into her cabin thirty-two minutes later, panting and livid.

Verena slammed the door shut, threw off her cloak, and ran toward her makeup table.

“That detective is getting on my nerves.”

She dropped into the velvet chair, already sorting the perfume bottles and shimmer creams.

“How is he everywhere? Why is he in the noble district now? I know he has been following Mira or Celeste? Does he even want to check up on the Marquis House now?

If this had truly been her first meeting with the man, Verena might’ve blushed—perhaps tucked a strand of imaginary hair behind her ear, given him that soft village girl smile, one that hinted at innocence and temptation all at once.

He was handsome enough to warrant it. Broad shoulders wrapped in dark fabric, a face made to command attention, and those maroon eyes—steady, searching, and just a bit too perceptive.

The kind of man who could make a woman pause mid-sentence.

In another world, she might’ve leaned closer and thought, you’ll do nicely. Maybe even considered him her next prey.

But this wasn’t their first meeting. Not really.

She’d already stood in front of him, held conversation with him, observed the way his mind worked—only under a different face, a different voice. That was the benefit of staying close to royalty and learning to weave herself into the upper crust of society.

The view was clearer at the top. She could slip into court as a noble lady, into town as a merchant’s niece, or into a manor as a blond maid with jewel-toned eyes. She could dance around him without ever revealing her true steps. And he—poor, clever, brilliant man—had no idea.

So, Mr. Detective, no matter how sharp your instincts, no matter how many riddles you solve, you’ll find nothing. I will always be one step ahead of you, four actually.

She squinted at her reflection as her features shifted—hair growing longer, turning a shade of ocean blue, her lips fuller, cheekbones lifted with elegance. Her body softened into curves draped in silk, a necklace clasped around her collarbone

Verena disappeared.

Celeste rose from the vanity in a shower of powder and roses.

Time to stir more scandal.

She was ready to be a main character in the Royal Ball as the stunning Celeste- the lover of the Marquis.

It's because Verena was not the player in the game.

She was the one who rewrote the rules.