Amira stepped slowly into the grand chamber. The doors closed behind her with a soft click, and the silence that followed felt heavy. She looked around, taking in the high ceiling, the gold-trimmed walls, and the soft velvet curtains that moved slightly from a breeze she couldn't feel. Everything looked beautiful, expensive… but cold. It didn't feel like home.
She sat on the edge of the bed, careful not to wrinkle the sheets. Her fingers played with the fabric of her dress as her eyes wandered. The room was quiet. Too quiet.
Matthew had already said goodbye and left. Not long after, three maids came in. They moved with quiet footsteps, not saying much, only helping her get ready for the evening. Amira let them. She didn't know what else to do.
The best part of the day had been the bath. One of the maids had drawn it for her, adding something that made the water smell like flowers. As soon as she stepped in, warmth wrapped around her body and she sighed, her shoulders finally relaxing. The water soothed the soreness from her long trip, and for a few minutes, she just closed her eyes and let herself float in peace.
But everything else that day felt too fast. Too big. She couldn't keep up. It was like being dropped in the middle of a story she didn't understand.
She remembered the queen's face elegant, graceful but there was something behind those eyes. Something unreadable. Amira couldn't tell if it was kindness or something else.
Oaken Vale itself was beautiful. The forests, the way the sunlight hit the leaves, the stillness in the air… it was more magical than she had imagined. But even that beauty didn't make her feel safe in the castle. The people here smiled with closed mouths, as if hiding things behind their teeth.
When she returned to her room after the bath, the maids were already preparing her clothes. They helped her dress quickly, their hands working with speed and skill. She wore a white gown with small pearls sewn into the fabric. It sparkled under the light. The dress hugged her shape gently, and lace ran along her collarbone and back.
Her hair was pulled back and pinned at her neck, with soft strands left loose around her face. She looked graceful in the mirror not like herself, but like someone pretending to be royal.
Two of the maids left, and only one stayed behind. Amira turned to her with a soft voice.
"Could I have some water, please?" she asked.
The maid nodded and went to the bedside table, poured water into a glass, and handed it to her. Amira drank slowly. The cool water felt good on her dry throat.
"Could you… tell me more about the palace?" she asked after a pause, trying not to sound too lost. "I feel a little out of place."
"What would you like to know?" the maid replied politely.
"I want to understand the royal family," Amira said quietly. "I'm going to meet them soon, and I want to be prepared."
Before the maid could say anything else, it was time to leave.
---
The ballroom was full of people. The music playing was soft and lovely, but Amira didn't feel calm. She felt like everyone was watching her.
She was led to a raised platform with two chairs. She sat in one. The other stayed empty. One by one, guests came up to greet her. Their words were polite, their smiles gentle, but something about it all felt fake. She could tell they were judging her.
A woman in a silk dress leaned close and smiled too sweetly.
"You must feel lucky," she said. "To have captured the first prince's heart."
The words felt more like a warning than a compliment.
Before Amira could respond, another voice came beside her quiet but sharp.
"That's Lady Patricia," the girl whispered. "Duke Alberto's daughter. Her family owns a lot of land in the east."
Amira nodded but didn't say anything. She kept her face calm. Let them talk.
Then the hall grew quiet. The music stopped.
Everyone turned.
The king entered first. He wore a long red cloak that dragged behind him, and a heavy crown sat on his head. He walked with purpose. The room bowed, and Amira did too.
The queen followed. Her dress flowed like water, made of deep brown fabric that shimmered. Her crown matched the king's, and three of her children walked behind her.
The first was Crown Prince Lloyd. He looked just like the king he was tall, blond, with proud eyes that scanned the room like he owned it. There was a small smirk on his lips, like he was already amused by something.
Next came Princess Novalie. She was calm, beautiful, with soft pink lips and chestnut hair pinned back neatly. Her eyes were gentle but aware. Like she noticed everything.
Last came the youngest a boy, maybe ten years old, with curly brown hair and golden-brown feline eyes like the Queen. Even though he was so young, he carried himself with quiet strength.
Amira sat still. She didn't let her hands shake. But inside, she could feel her heart pounding. She wasn't sure what came next.