Chapter 6 – The First Attempt
The palace corridors were never truly quiet.
Even in the early hours of the morning, there were servants moving softly, guards changing shifts, nobles whispering behind carefully closed doors. Aurelia walked through them all with her head held high, her expression calm, though her thoughts were anything but.
She could still feel it.
That faint warmth beneath her skin. Dormant, but alert.
So it wasn't a dream, she thought.
Her fingers tightened around the folds of her dress as she reminded herself to breathe normally. No one could know—not yet. Power without protection was nothing more than a death sentence.
She turned a corner.
The corridor ahead was narrow, lined with tall windows that let in pale morning light. A few servants stood along the walls, heads bowed respectfully as she passed.
Then it happened.
Someone brushed against her shoulder.
It was light. Almost accidental.
Almost.
The air shifted.
Aurelia's steps faltered as a sharp, instinctive warning flared inside her chest. Not fear—something colder. Clearer.
Danger.
She turned her head sharply.
The servant behind her froze.
For a heartbeat, their eyes met. His were wide, panicked, and just a fraction too focused on her arm.
Aurelia felt it then—the intent. Sharp and hostile, slicing through the air like an invisible blade.
Magic surged.
She didn't think.
She didn't chant or gesture.
She reacted.
A faint golden shimmer rippled around her sleeve as a thin needle shot forward from the servant's cuff. Midair, the metal twisted violently, as if crushed by an unseen force.
There was a sharp crack.
The needle bent, snapped, and fell to the marble floor with a soft, damning clatter.
Silence swallowed the corridor.
The servant staggered back, his face draining of color. "I— I didn't—!"
Guards appeared almost instantly, weapons drawn.
"What is the meaning of this?" one barked.
The broken needle was already being picked up, examined.
Poison.
Aurelia stood perfectly still, her heart hammering so loudly she was certain everyone could hear it. Her hand trembled faintly at her side, warmth still lingering in her palm.
I stopped it, she realized. Without even trying.
The servant collapsed to his knees, sobbing, screaming innocence as he was dragged away.
Whispers erupted around them.
An attempt on a noblewoman. On her.
Across the corridor, standing among the arriving guards, Aurelia noticed him.
Lucien.
He had not moved.
His gaze was fixed entirely on her—not on the servant, not on the needle, but on Aurelia herself. Sharp. Assessing. Certain.
Their eyes met.
In that moment, she knew.
He had seen too much.
Lucien turned away smoothly, barking orders to restore order, but the weight of his stare lingered long after he was gone.
Aurelia resumed walking only once the corridor cleared, her steps measured, her posture flawless.
Inside, her thoughts raced.
So this is how it begins, she thought grimly.
An assassination attempt in broad daylight.
And magic that answered her call.
The palace had made its first move.
And now, it knew she would not fall easily.