The sun had begun to set over the palace, casting long amber shadows across the royal garden. The scent of roses mingled with the hush of leaves rustling in the evening breeze.
Aurora walked slowly along the stone path, her gown fluttering gently around her ankles. A few of her maids followed from a respectful distance, but she waved them off kindly.
"I will walk alone," she said.
As they bowed and stepped back, Aurora turned a corner and entered the quieter, inner garden—a place where only queens and royals often strolled.
She did not expect to see Queen Selene and Queen Virelda already there.
Selene's sharp voice was the first to pierce the quiet.
"Well, well. Look who is here."
Aurora stopped, her expression unreadable. "Your Majesty."
Virelda, standing beside the roses, gave her a long, cold look but said nothing. Her silence always cut deeper than Selene's words.
Selene scoffed and stepped forward, arms folded.
"You have been glowing of late, have you not? Striding as if you own the hall. Does a single night in the king's arms grant such courage?"
Aurora did not flinch. She did not bow either. Her eyes calmly met Selene's.
"I walk with the dignity I have earned," Aurora said, voice steady. "Not from a single night, but from every day I survived being nothing in your eyes."
Virelda's eyes narrowed slightly.
Selene sneered. "Careful, girl. You may have His Majesty's attention now, but favor is like a candle—easily snuffed. Ask Virelda. She has been dim for years."
Virelda stiffened and shot Selene a cold glare. "Do not drag me into your childish bitterness."
"Oh, do not pretend you like her either," Selene snapped. "You called her a weed in velvet, remember?"
Virelda's gaze turned to Aurora then, unreadable. "I still think so. A lovely weed, perhaps. But weeds thrive on chaos."
Aurora stepped forward slowly. "If I am a weed, then you two are wilting roses—beautiful once, but poisoned by pride."
Selene's hand twitched at her side.
Aurora continued, voice like silk wrapped around steel. "I have not disrespected you. Not once. Despite your whispers. Despite your glances. But I will cower no longer."
Selene took a step closer, nose flaring. "You think because His Majesty gives you attention, you belong among us? You are nothing but a slave's child playing dress-up."
Aurora's eyes flashed, but her tone stayed calm.
"I know who I am. That is why I do not need to tear other women down to feel important."
Selene looked momentarily stunned.
Aurora added, "Your time is spent watching me. Mine is spent building something."
Virelda raised a brow, finally speaking again—quiet, sharp. "And what exactly are you building, little witch?"
Aurora tilted her head slightly. "A future that does not need your permission."
A brief silence fell between the three women. Even the wind seemed to still.
Then Aurora offered a tight smile and a graceful nod. "Have a lovely evening, your majesties."
And with that, she turned and walked away—head high, spine straight, the soft rustle of her gown trailing behind her like a whisper of defiance.
Selene glared at her retreating figure, jaw clenched. "She will ruin everything."
Virelda did not answer immediately. She stared at the path Aurora had taken, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "….Or change everything."
Aurora's figure disappeared into the palace halls, her final words still lingering like smoke in the air.
Selene remained rooted in place, fists clenched at her sides. Her face flushed, not from embarrassment—but fury.
"She dares," she hissed. "She dares speak like that to us."
Virelda did not answer. She turned slowly toward a row of dark purple irises, fingers brushing against one of the petals as though deep in thought.
Selene stormed toward her. "Say something!"
Virelda plucked a single petal from the iris and let it fall. "You did say she was just a passing shadow."
Selene's lips curled. "Do not mock me."
"I am not." Virelda turned her pale eyes on Selene, cool and unreadable. "I am observing. She is no longer afraid of you. Of any of us."
Selene's laugh was sharp. "That girl thinks she is clever. Thinks His Majesty's attention will last."
Virelda's gaze narrowed. "Maybe it will."
Selene blinked. "What?"
Virelda stepped past her, slow and poised. "He is not looking at you. He is not looking at me. He looks at her as if she is something he cannot name, and that terrifies me more than your shouting ever could."
Selene scoffed, but her voice was quieter. "She has bewitched him."
"Perhaps," Virelda murmured. "Or perhaps… he has simply found a reason to feel again."
Selene gritted her teeth, pacing. "No. She will not last. When the fire fades, he will remember where true power lies."
Virelda tilted her head slightly. "Do you truly believe that… or do you just need to?"
Selene whirled toward her. "We are queens. She is just… just…"
"A beginning," Virelda said softly.
Selene stared, unsettled.
Virelda offered the faintest shrug, gathering her gown. "Careful, Selene. The more noise you make to break her, the more everyone sees how much she matters."
And with that, she turned and walked out of the garden—silent, elegant, but with something new in her step, wariness.
Selene remained alone, heart racing, her fury tangled with something far worse than jealousy…..Fear.
-
The great laundry chamber steamed with heat and scent—lavender, lye, and woodsmoke swirling in the air. Wet linens slapped rhythmically against stone, and wooden tubs brimmed with soapy water. Outside the windows, the sun was just beginning to set, casting golden light across the stone floors.
Lira, Dina, and Faye—Aurora's maids—had rolled up their sleeves and were wringing out a pile of white gowns. Their laughter rose above the hum of chores.
Just across from them stood two of Queen Selene's maids and one from Queen Virelda's. They did not speak at first—just side-eyed the trio with expressions of tiredness and thinly-veiled curiosity.
Finally, one of Selene's maids, Myrla, huffed as she dropped a bundle of fine silk into a basket.
"I do not understand how you three always look so well-rested," she said, wringing out her hands. "You barely have dark circles."
Faye blinked, then smiled. "Because our lady lets us sleep in."
"She does?" asked Rynne, Virelda's maid, her eyes narrowing in disbelief.
Dina grinned. "She insists, actually. Says tired hands cannot fold straight."
Myrla scoffed. "Tired hands? Queen Selene nearly bit my ear off yesterday because I fluffed her pillow with the wrong feather side."
"She did it again?" Rynne said with a groan. "Mine scolded me for breathing too loudly in her chamber."
Lira tried to hide a giggle.
"She lets you giggle too, does she not?" Myrla said accusingly. "Your Lady."
Lira beamed. "Every day. Queen Aurora talks to us. She asks about our families, tells us stories about her childhood. Yesterday, she sat on the rug with us and helped us untangle her hair ribbons."
"And she laughs," Dina added with a warm sigh. "Her laugh is like… like wind through chimes. You want to do anything just to hear it again."
"I taught her how to carry a tray without spilling the jug," Faye said proudly. "She got it wrong the first time and nearly poured tea on herself. We laughed for minutes."
Myrla's face twisted in envy. "Your life sounds like a dream."
"It is," Lira whispered with a soft smile. "She treats us like people. Like… friends."
There was a quiet moment. Even the soapy splashes paused.
Then Rynne exhaled and muttered under her breath, "Even His Majesty looks at Queen Aurora like she is a dream."
The chamber froze.
Myrla's head whipped toward her. "Rynne—"
"I am just saying what everyone is thinking," Rynne said, shrugging, voice low. "He barely looks at the other Queens. But your Lady? He stares as if the rest of the Queens do not exist."
Lira, Dina, and Faye exchanged a look, each trying not to smile too much.
"She does not flaunt it though," Dina said softly. "She is… shy about it. Quiet. But we see it too."
"She sneaks smiles when she thinks no one is looking," Faye added.
"And he winks at her," Lira laughed. "Can you imagine a king winking?"
They all laughed—except for Rynne and Myrla, who sank against the wall with a mix of defeat and admiration.
"I want to serve a queen like that," Rynne said under her breath. "One who is not just powerful, but kind."
"Careful," Myrla muttered. "Speak too loud, and trouble will find you."
Amid the scent of soap and soft gossip, the laundry chamber became a place of dreams, if only for a moment
-
The palace buzzed like a hive on fire.
Silks arrived in bolts. Jewels were laid out on trays like spoils from a distant conquest. From the great ballroom to the farthest corridors, servants dashed with candles, goblets, linens, and sprays of white lilies—the official bloom of Velmoran celebration.
The Royal Ball was only two nights away.
Queen Selene sat before her wide mirror, surrounded by her servants who scurried with perfumes and pins. Her golden gown was already draped across the chaise, shimmering like liquid sun. She twisted slightly, lifting her hair to inspect the neckline of her underdress.
"Bring me the sapphires," she ordered sharply. "Not the rubies. Blue catches torchlight better."
"Yes, Your Majesty," Myrla whispered and rushed off.
Selene turned to another. "Make sure the seamstress cinch the waist tighter this time. And the sleeves—narrower. If I must stand beside her, I will make sure my silhouette is unforgettable."
Her voice dripped with bitterness. No name spoken, yet everyone knew who she meant.
Just down the corridor, in her quieter wing, Queen Virelda sat stiffly as her own attendants presented three gowns before her.
She lifted one brow. "They are all dull."
"Your Majesty, the silver thread—"
"Silver is nothing without light," she snapped. "And I intend to shine."
Virelda stood, long fingers brushing the fabric of a deep violet gown, rich as night. "This one," she said slowly, imagining herself gliding down the ballroom staircase. "And pair it with the diamond comb."
The maids nodded.
Her voice lowered. "This time… perhaps His Majesty will look. Truly look."
Selene's words, elsewhere in the palace, echoed the same.
"It is a ball. The one night no crown can protect her. Let us see if His Majesty still stares when true queen enter the hall."
-
The sky had just begun to blush into evening when a soft knock sounded at Aurora's door.
Faye opened it, expecting a maid or perhaps an errand boy with linens for the upcoming ball—but instead, a tall royal guard stood, a finely wrapped box in hand, and a scroll sealed with the royal crest tucked neatly atop it.
"For Her Ladyship," the guard said with a respectful bow. "From His Majesty."
Aurora looked up from where she was seated at the edge of her couch, a book in hand. Her heart fluttered the moment she heard the words His Majesty. She quickly rose to her feet, her voice soft but steady.
"Place it here," she instructed, pointing to the center table. Her maids were already wide-eyed, exchanging hushed gasps.
The moment the guard exited, Aurora walked over, untied the dark navy ribbon and lifted the lid.
Gasps filled the chamber.
Inside lay a gown so stunning, even the air around it seemed to hold its breath—a flowing river of soft ivory silk, embroidered with tiny golden leaves that shimmered as they caught the light. The neckline was modest yet elegant, the sleeves sheer and long, tapering into golden cuffs, the fabric sweeping wide as if made to catch the wind.
A folded note lay on top of the fabric, his handwriting unmistakable.
'To the woman who needs no silk to outshine a chamber,
Still—allow me the pleasure of dressing you in something worthy of your light.'
Aurora's hands trembled slightly as she read. Her lips parted, but no words came, only a growing smile that stretched into her eyes and made her glow.
Lira clasped her hands to her chest. "My lady…"
Dina squealed softly. "He sent you a ball gown!"
Even Faye, usually the calmest, whispered, "You are all His Majesty sees."
The rest of the maids giggled too.
Aurora folded the note carefully, pressing it to her chest. Her cheeks flushed, her eyes misty but bright.
Then she looked to her maids and said with quiet joy, "Prepare the hairpins. I shall wear this."