The Court of Altheria was a palace of marble, glass, and masks.
Not the kind worn over eyes, but the subtler, more dangerous ones—smiles that cut, compliments that carried poison, silence that screamed. And this week, the air was electric.
Because Adrian Blackwood, the Crown's favored noble and the cold-eyed viper of the western territories, was no longer at court. He was in the Hart estate. And no one knew what to make of it.
The Gossip Circles
In the southern tea salon of the court, Lady Rosalind was the first to say it aloud.
"He's moved in," she said, folding her fan with an audible snap. "I received word yesterday morning from my cousin's steward. Apparently, he's staying with Lord Hart to oversee some 'trade alliance.' Please."
Several noble ladies gasped, and others exchanged sharp glances behind jeweled veils.
Lady Vivienne leaned in. "He's staying in her home. You know the girl. That common-faced thing with the unpolished manners—what's her name again?"
"Lila Hart," someone whispered.
Lady Rosalind's eyes gleamed with interest. "How very clever of her. I suppose she's playing the long game. First, she danced with him, then she allowed herself to be carried from the imperial ball like a swooning bride…"
"…and now he's living under her roof."
"Scandalous."
"But brilliant."
"It's manipulation," hissed one elder lady with disdain. "She's dug her claws in deep. Just like her father once tried with Queen Celine."
But not everyone dismissed Lila.
"She did fix her estate," said a younger lady softly, uncertain. "I heard she reopened the marketplace. And started using her own remedies to help the sick in the fiefdom."
"Philanthropy or calculated charm?" Lady Rosalind sniffed. "Either way, she's not just an extra anymore."
The Crown Prince's Chambers
News spread faster than wildfire behind velvet doors. Crown Prince Edmund stood beside a grand window overlooking the eastern gardens, lips pursed in thought. The message in his hand was short and clear—Lord Adrian Blackwood had extended his stay in Hart territory, citing economic cooperation.
"Do you believe that?" he asked, holding the paper out toward his sister.
Princess Seraphine, seated nearby and draped in sky-blue silk, sipped her wine without flinching.
"I believe Adrian never does anything without a reason," she said. "If he's staying there, it's either to protect something… or someone."
Thalien frowned. "We need him in court. He's the only one who can negotiate directly with the West and keep the border nobles in check. If he gets… distracted, that balance crumbles."
Seraphine twirled the stem of her goblet between her fingers. "Then don't let him get distracted."
"Are you suggesting we interfere?"
She smiled faintly. "Not interfere. Remind him of his position. A few choice rumors. An official invitation. A noble banquet in his honor—one he cannot refuse without raising suspicion."
The prince tapped the message against his palm, considering. "And what of the girl?"
"The one everyone thought was just another forgettable background piece?" Seraphine set her goblet down. "She may prove more dangerous than Evelyne if she continues to evolve."
Evelyne's Inner Quarters
Lady Evelyne Merrow stood before her dressing mirror, her smile sharp enough to cut.
"Unbelievable," she hissed, watching her maid fasten the back of her sapphire gown.
"Shall I fetch Lord Adrian's latest letter again, my lady?"
Evelyne waved her off. "No. I've memorized every word of that sugar-coated lie. 'Trade discussions,' he says. 'Estate rebuilding.' As if I don't see the truth."
She walked to the window, watching the fountain below glisten in the moonlight. "That girl's crawling her way into places she doesn't belong. And the court is starting to watch her. Not with disdain anymore—but curiosity."
That was worse. Disdain was predictable. Contempt could be managed. But curiosity was dangerous.
It gave the unwanted girl power. Her lips twisted. "Then I'll give them a better story. One they can chew on until they forget her entirely."
Marianne, standing silently in the shadows of the room, stepped forward. "What do you intend, my lady?"
Evelyne turned, eyes glinting like frost. "We remind the court why some women are born noble—and others are born to be forgotten. If Adrian wants to play the hero in her little tale, I'll write a new ending myself."
The Whisper Network
Within days, court servants carried new whispers between rooms like spiders spinning silk.
Adrian's betrothal negotiations have stalled. Perhaps he's found someone more… humble.
Have you heard? Lady Evelyne received a mysterious gift yesterday morning. A crushed rose, they say. Was it from Lord Blackwood?
Lila Hart was seen walking with the steward in the marketplace. Does she really intend to become a merchant noble?
The whispers spread. Some were sharp. Others were sly. And all of them painted a vivid new picture: Adrian Blackwood had chosen a side.
Whether it was love, politics, or something else entirely, no one could say. But in the Court of Altheria, image was everything.
And Lila Hart, once a forgettable name on a fading ledger was no longer invisible. She was now the subject of whispers, the storm behind the silence, the girl who made the viper linger.