Queen Ava's drawing chamber was warm with lavender and myrrh, the windows open to let in the late morning sun. She sat in her high-backed chair, robed in soft gold, with her rings clinking gently against the cup she stirred. She'd sent for Aurora the moment the servants confirmed what she'd heard —Queen Aurora had ridden into the woods… with her son.
Aurora entered with her usual calm, bowing low.
"Sit, child," Queen Ava said, eyes unreadable. "You are not in trouble."
Aurora sat on the edge of a cushioned stool, hands folded neatly in her lap.
There was a pause before Ava spoke again.
"So… I hear you went riding."
Aurora looked up slowly, her voice gentle. "We merely walked, Mother."
Ava arched a brow. "Merely walked?"
"Yes. Mother."
Ava set down her teacup with the faintest clink. "I have lived in this palace longer than you have been alive, girl. I know what whispers mean."
Aurora said nothing.
Ava tilted her head slightly, studying her. "His Majesty is not a man who opens easily. If he's begun to… show you things, speak to you plainly, you must understand — that is no small thing."
Aurora looked down. Her hands were cold. "He is the king."
"And you are his wife," Ava replied sharply. "By heavens, do not let that be wasted. You were given what the other queens longed for."
Still, Aurora said nothing. There was too much tangled in her chest to speak.
Ava leaned back. She sensed the stone wall behind Aurora's silence. Not defiance, not pride. Just… pain.
She sighed. "That is all, then. You may leave."
Aurora stood, bowed again, and left — her soft steps barely echoing through the marble hall. Queen Ava sat still, watching the empty doorway long after she had gone.
-
The tall glass windows bathed the corridor in gold. The birds chirped faintly in the distance. But the air was ice.
Aurora turned the corner with four of her maids, only to stop when she saw Queen Selene standing in her path, arms folded and smirking. Queen Virelda leaned against a marble pillar a few feet away, quiet as always, her gaze sharp and unreadable.
"Oh, look," Selene said, voice sweet as honey but sharp as glass. "The forest queen returns."
Aurora bowed politely. "Your Grace."
Selene circled her slowly. "You do not usually leave your tower. His Majesty must have offered something… tempting."
"I went for air," Aurora said simply.
Virelda scoffed quietly. Selene turned toward her, amused. "She went for air, did you hear that?"
Virelda shrugged. "Perhaps the air near His Majesty is better."
Selene's smile grew wider. "It must be. You have stirred the whole palace with your little outing. Do you know how many eyes are watching you now?"
Aurora's face remained still. "I do not seek attention."
"No, but attention is seeking you," Virelda murmured. "And not all of it is kind."
There was silence for a moment.
Then Selene stepped closer, her voice lowering. "We have been here for years. We have kept our place. Do not think a few gifts and a walk in the woods makes you queen of his heart."
Aurora lifted her eyes slowly to meet hers. "I never asked to be."
Selene blinked, slightly thrown off by the calm.
Then Virelda stepped forward, voice as soft and cold as snowfall. "Then perhaps stay where you belong — quiet, invisible, out of our way."
Aurora looked between them both — the fire and the ice. She took a breath and said softly, "If I am quiet, why are you both so loud around me?"
There was a pause.
"And Your Grace," Aurora continued, turning to Selene, "I also heard you rode into the woods, hoping to meet His Majesty. But you did not. I trust that did not wound you too deeply."
Selene's eyes widened, but before she could speak…
Aurora turned and walked away, her maids trailing behind her, heads bowed to hide their smiles.
Selene gasped in disbelief. Virelda said nothing, but her lips tightened.
For a girl who spoke so little… her words carried weight.
The wooden doors of Aurora's chamber creaked softly as her maids pushed them open. Light poured in from the tall windows, gilding the quiet chamber in warmth. But the silence did not last.
As soon as the doors shut behind them, Lira let out a squeal.
"Oh my stars, did you see their faces?" she whispered, barely able to hold back her laughter. "I thought Queen Selene would swallow her own tongue!"
Seren covered her mouth, giggling. "And Queen Virelda looked like someone poured vinegar into her wine."
Aurora was already at her vanity, slowly unpinning her hair. She gave them both a glance through the mirror.
"I only said what I felt," she murmured.
"And that is what made it perfect!" Lira burst out, throwing herself on the edge of the bed.
"A quiet arrow is often the deadliest," Faye added, spinning gracefully on her heel. "You did not even raise your voice, my lady. You just… sliced."
Aurora turned around, blinking at them.
"You all act as though it was a duel."
"It was, Your Grace," Lira grinned. "You dueled with words and won without lifting a finger."
Aurora shook her head, but a small smile tugged at her lips.
"They just needed to hear the truth," she said softly.
"And they hated that it came from you," Seren said, walking over to help unlace her sleeves. "You, who never stirs trouble, never competes, never raises her voice — and yet, you walked out of that hallway like a crowned victor."
Aurora finally laughed — a low, genuine sound, the kind that did not come often since the market incident. Her hand covered her mouth out of instinct, but her eyes glimmered with quiet amusement. Her laughter made the chamber warmer somehow.
Lira leaned in and whispered, "You should speak more often, my lady. Your words are sharper than the king's blade."
Aurora chuckled again, shaking her head. "That is enough."
But her eyes were bright as she slipped off her robe and let her maids dress her for the evening.
-
The palace of Velmora slumbered beneath a moonless sky. The tall towers stood like silent watchers against the windless night, their windows black, their halls breathless. Even the torches in the main courtyard had long burned out, leaving only the soft hum of crickets and the distant rustle of old trees.
Inside the eastern tower, where Queen Aurora's chamber sat nestled high above the gardens, the candlelight had long since faded. Her white curtains swayed gently though no breeze stirred them. Aurora lay beneath layers of embroidered sheets, her breath slow and steady.
Until suddenly — Her eyes snapped open.
Her irises, bright blue in the dark, blinked slowly as though pulled from a dream.
A whisper, barely louder than a breath, wound through the air.
"Elisa…Ava'ren…Archon…"
The language was ancient, velvety and strange, yet something deep within her stirred.
Aurora sat up.
Her hands moved without her will, quietly pushing aside the sheets. Her bare feet touched the cold floor, but she did not flinch. The maids on the side cushions slept soundly, unaware. Not a single creak from her door awakened them.
She moved with eerie silence, as though her body belonged to something else. The moon still hid, but somehow she could see. The hallway was dim and empty — not a guard in sight.
She descended the spiral stairs, not once looking back.
The voice called again — closer now.
"Archon…Vel'en ti loré…"
She passed the kitchens, the great hall, even the royal court — all ghostly and dim under starlight. Her nightdress brushed the floor, her white hair loose and wild behind her, catching the faint shimmer of stars through the arches.
Then, her steps halted at a door no servant ever passed, no guard had touched in years.
The back gate.
Overgrown ivy clung to the rusted iron, and a thick coating of dust had blanketed the entrance for a decade. But as Aurora stood before it, the iron creaked.
No key. No latch. The door opened for her. She stepped out.
Cold air greeted her like an old friend, lifting her hair and gown with ghostly fingers. The trees beyond were tall and whispering, branches swaying like they recognized her. The path before her, barely a trail, shimmered faintly under starlight, though no stars should have broken through the clouds.
She walked barefoot into the woods, guided by a force unseen — an ancient summoning.
No guards saw her. No servant stirred.
The wind wound around her, whispering in that strange tongue, wrapping her in syllables that sounded like prophecy and sorrow.
Her breath clouded in the cool air, but she did not notice. Her eyes were half-lidded, her body caught between dreaming and walking.
Somewhere deep in the woods, a flicker of violet light pulsed once. She walked toward it.
Far behind her, in the heart of the palace, the night stayed undisturbed — save for a lone candle flickering back to life in her chamber.
-
The first pink traces of dawn seeped across the sky, casting a soft hue over the silent palace. Birds had not begun their songs. The halls of Velmora were still in slumber — all except one chamber.
Lira stirred first, As usual, her eyes fluttered open before the others, her body trained to rise before the queen did. She turned toward the large bed near the arched window, expecting to find Aurora curled beneath the snow-colored sheets.
But the bed was empty.
Lira blinked. "My lady?" she whispered, slipping from the couch and padding silently toward the bed. She ran her hand across the smooth linen. Cold.
She turned to the bath chamber door — slightly ajar.
"My lady?" she called softly, pushing it open.
Nothing.
The wide marble-tiled space echoed her quiet footsteps. Empty. Still. No gown discarded, no splash of water, no sign of life.
A chill crawled up her spine.
"Faye," she said quickly, nudging the maid beside her. "Her Majesty is not here."
Faye's eyes opened groggily. "Hm? What do you mean she is—"
"She is not in the chamber," Lira said, sharper now. "Or the bath."
Faye bolted up, instantly awake. She crossed the chamber, opened the wardrobe — all her gowns were intact, unused. Another maid checked the terrace. Empty.
Then came the panic.
"She might be in the garden!" Seren whispered breathlessly.
Together, all the maids rushed through the corridors, skirts rustling, hearts hammering. The guards stationed outside Aurora's wing stirred in confusion at the noise — but they had not seen her leave.
They reached the garden. But there was only silence. Dew-kissed flowers. No sign of the queen.
"She is not here—she is nowhere!" Lira clutched her chest.
"Go," Faye said, turning to Seren. "Wake Her Majesty Queen Ava. Now."
Within minutes, the quarter was a flurry of alarm. Queen Ava, regal in her silver-embroidered robe and braided hair, sat tensely on a velvet settee, eyes sharp despite the hour.
"Gone?" she echoed.
"We have searched the garden, her wing, even the eastern corridor,"Faye said, breathless. "There is no note. Nothing seems touched."
"Did she request an escort? Did any guard see her pass?" Ava asked tightly, rising to her feet.
"No, Your Majesty," Lira said. "They said no one came through any gates all night."
Ava's eyes narrowed. "Check her chamber again. See if anything is missing. A letter. A scroll. Anything."
The maids fled.
Within moments, servants across the palace were whispering. The still morning broke into ripples of noise — guards called for, courtiers murmuring, sandals echoing down stone halls.
Then word reached the king.
Aldric stood in his war chamber, overlooking a report when Kael rushed in. His usual measured stride was replaced with urgency.
"Your Majesty."
Aldric did not turn. "What is it?"
"It is Queen Aurora. She is … gone."
That word made Aldric's hand still. He slowly turned his head. "Gone?"
Kael nodded grimly. "Since the night. Her maids woke to find her bed empty. No trace."
It was rare — almost unnatural — for Aldric's face to change so swiftly. His brows lowered. Jaw clenched. A flush of something foreign crossed his features. Panic.
He did not speak at first. He walked past Kael, his steps brisk, storming toward her wing. When he reached it, he tore through her chamber himself. Flung open the wardrobe. Flipped through her vanity.
Nothing. No missing dresses. No letter.
Not even her soft shoes were gone.
He questioned the guards himself, voice cold but eyes burning.
"She never passed?"
"No, Your Majesty. We stood post all night. None entered or left."
Aldric's chest rose and fell. He closed his fists. "Then someone knows something," he growled.
His gaze swept the hall, dark and boiling with fury.
Across the palace, Queen Selene was having a slow, luxurious morning. She sat in her bathing chamber, a fruit plate beside her, and a servant braiding her long golden hair.
When the news reached her ears, a wide smile stretched across her face.
"Gone?" she repeated, unable to contain her glee. "Oh, how tragic."
She dismissed the servant with a hum and leaned back in the bath, closing her eyes. "She finally ran off like the commoner she is."
In Queen Virelda chamber, she sat with a cup of tea, her lips pressed in that ever-calm, slightly amused expression.
"So she left?" she whispered to no one in particular, gaze distant. "Perhaps she is tired of playing royalty."
Though they never liked each other, the thought that Aurora had vanished stirred the same quiet delight in both women.
But their satisfaction was short-lived.
A knock came to each of their doors. Not the light tap of a servant. The hard thud of palace guards.
A message delivered curtly, sharply.
"His Majesty summons you to the courthouse. Now."
Selene's smile faded.
Virelda's eyes narrowed.
Neither dared delay.
Because no one defies the king — especially not when fury is in his eyes.