The Queen summoned her at dawn.
Rose didn't need a seer to know it was more than a royal courtesy. The summons was abrupt, without explanation, and arrived by a black-sealed scroll—one used only for matters the Queen deemed "private and pressing."
She dressed in deep violet silk, her hair braided in a crown, no jewels, no embellishments—just sharp elegance. A calculated contrast to the innocence she once wore like perfume.
Kyle met her outside the royal chambers. "You shouldn't go alone."
"She asked for me, not us."
Kyle's jaw flexed. "That's what worries me."
Rose placed a hand on his chest. "If I'm not back within the hour, bring fire."
He caught her wrist, gaze locked to hers. "Don't joke about that."
"I'm not," she said—and meant it.
The Queen's private solar was drenched in morning light. Pale silk drapes swayed softly, the scent of jasmine clinging to the air. Queen Mariam sat in a throne-like chair, porcelain teacup balanced in her hand, and an unreadable expression on her face.
"Your Highness," Rose curtsied, her tone carefully respectful.
"Rise," the Queen said smoothly. "Let's not waste time with pleasantries."
Rose obeyed, letting silence linger between them like a drawn blade.
"I've been watching you," the Queen began, sipping her tea. "You move with the confidence of someone who believes she belongs. You win over ministers, whisper in the ears of generals. You even toy with my son's affections."
Rose smiled. "I wasn't aware Prince Christopher's affections were so easily toyed with."
Mariam's lips curved faintly—not a smile. More like a warning. "I admire clever girls. But cleverness becomes dangerous when mixed with secrets. And I suspect you carry more than one."
Rose stepped forward, meeting the Queen's gaze head-on. "We all wear masks in court, Your Majesty. Some are just better at choosing the right ones."
The Queen leaned back, setting her teacup down. "Tell me, Princess. Who are you really? Where did you come from? Your kingdom is a vague tale. Your lineage barely verified. And yet here you are… rising like smoke."
Rose's heart pounded once, but her voice remained calm. "Is this an interrogation?"
"It's a courtesy," the Queen said coldly. "Because if I discover you're here to manipulate, or worse—avenge something long buried—I won't be as polite next time."
So she does suspect.
Rose lowered her lashes, then raised them slowly. "Is it vengeance you fear, or competition?"
That earned a real reaction. A flicker of fury in the Queen's eyes. "Careful, girl."
"Always," Rose said, turning slightly to glance at the wide, arched windows. "But you should be too. Sometimes, smoke is not a warning. It's a distraction… from the fire already at your feet."
The Queen stood, swift and regal. "This court will eat you alive, Rose."
"I'm counting on it," Rose whispered, then curtsied and left.
She didn't exhale until she reached the hallway.
Kyle was waiting.
"She suspects."
Rose nodded. "She's digging."
He handed her a folded scrap of parchment. "And someone else is watching too. This was slipped under my door last night."
Rose opened it. The handwriting was sharp. Elegant.
The Queen is not your only enemy. Beware the one who stands behind the throne.
No name. No seal.
Just a single blood-red symbol scrawled beneath the words: a broken crown.
Rose stared at it, her mind racing.
Because that symbol… she'd seen it once before.
In her previous life.
Right before everything burned.