The palace never truly slept.
Even in its quietest hours, it breathed—soft footsteps echoing through distant halls, hushed whispers slipping between servants, shadows stretching long beneath flickering candlelight. It was a place where silence meant nothing… and everything.
Elira had begun to understand that.
Since the poisoning, nothing felt the same. The air itself seemed heavier, as though danger had seeped into the walls.
She stood beside the cradle, her small hand resting lightly against its edge.
Kael was asleep.
For now.
His tiny chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, his face calm—too calm for a child born into such a cruel place.
Elira watched him quietly.
She had moved the cradle closer to her bed. Closer to her reach. Every sound he made, every slight movement—she noticed it now.
She had to.
Because no one else would.
A faint knock broke the silence.
Elira stilled.
It wasn't loud.
Not urgent.
Just… deliberate.
Three soft taps.
Her eyes slowly lifted toward the door.
The guards stationed outside didn't speak.
Didn't react.
Which meant—
Whoever stood beyond that door had the authority to be there.
The door opened.
Not wide.
Just enough.
A figure slipped inside with quiet elegance.
A woman.
Tall. Graceful. Wrapped in layers of deep crimson silk that shimmered with every step. Gold embroidery traced delicate rose patterns along the edges of her sleeves, catching the faint light of the room.
She moved like she belonged.
Like she owned the silence.
"Your Highness."
Her voice was soft.
Warm.
Too warm.
She dipped into a perfect bow, every movement measured, practiced.
"I hope I am not intruding."
Elira didn't respond immediately.
Her gaze remained fixed on the woman.
Then—
"I didn't invite you."
The words were simple.
Childlike.
But the meaning behind them was not.
For a fraction of a second—
The woman's smile paused.
Then returned, just as smooth as before.
"Of course," she said gently. "But in a palace such as this, invitations are not always necessary."
She stepped further into the room.
Unhurried.
Unbothered.
Her presence filled the space as if she had always been meant to stand there.
"Elira Noctis," she continued softly, her eyes finally settling fully on the child before her. "The forgotten princess."
Elira's fingers tightened slightly against the cradle.
She didn't like the way the woman said it.
Not as an insult.
But as a fact.
A label.
"And you must be…" Elira tilted her head slightly, her voice calm, "…the one who sent poison instead of greetings."
Silence.
Sharp.
Sudden.
The air shifted.
The maids in the room froze where they stood, their heads lowering instantly, their bodies tense.
The woman's smile remained.
But her eyes—
Changed.
Just slightly.
Cooler.
Sharper.
"Such a dangerous accusation," she said softly. "You must be careful with your words, Your Highness."
Elira didn't blink.
"I am."
Their gazes locked.
For a long moment, neither looked away.
Then—
The woman straightened slightly.
"Lady Seraphine," she introduced herself, as if the moment before had not happened at all. "A humble servant of the imperial court."
Humble.
The word almost sounded like a joke.
Elira had never seen her before in this life—
But she remembered.
Fragments from the novel. Pieces of a story she once read.
Lady Seraphine.
A woman who survived the palace not through loyalty—but through manipulation. A favorite among nobles. A shadow that whispered behind curtains.
A woman who smiled—
Even while destroying others.
"You're not needed here," Elira said quietly.
Seraphine's gaze flickered toward the cradle.
Toward Kael.
"On the contrary," she murmured, stepping closer, "I was sent to ensure the Third Prince's well-being."
Elira moved instantly.
One small step.
But enough.
She placed herself fully between Seraphine and the cradle.
Blocking her.
Protecting him.
The movement was instinctive.
Possessive.
Clear.
Seraphine paused.
Her eyes dropped briefly to the child standing in her way.
Then lifted again.
"…How admirable," she said softly. "Such devotion."
Her voice carried no warmth now.
Only observation.
"Tell me, Your Highness," she continued, "do you truly believe you can protect him?"
Elira didn't hesitate.
"Yes."
A single word.
Firm.
Certain.
Seraphine studied her.
A long, quiet moment passed.
Then—
She laughed.
Soft.
Beautiful.
Cold.
"A child," she said, almost to herself. "Standing against the palace."
Her gaze sharpened slightly.
"You've already made enemies, you know."
Elira's expression didn't change.
"I know."
"Do you know who they are?"
"No."
A pause.
Then—
"I don't need to."
The answer was simple.
But it made Seraphine's smile falter again—just slightly.
Because it wasn't ignorance.
It was confidence.
Dangerous confidence.
Elira's small hand reached back, gently touching the edge of the cradle.
Grounding herself.
Reminding herself why she stood here.
"You tried once," she said quietly. "You'll try again."
Seraphine's eyes narrowed ever so slightly.
"And if I did?"
The question was soft.
Testing.
Probing.
Elira met her gaze without fear.
"Then I'll stop you."
Silence.
Heavy.
Uncomfortable.
Then—
Seraphine stepped back.
Just one step.
Enough to break the tension.
"…Very well," she said lightly, her smile returning as if nothing had happened. "Let us see how long that confidence lasts."
She turned gracefully, her robes flowing behind her like liquid silk.
But just before reaching the door—
She paused.
Without looking back, she spoke one last time.
"This palace devours the weak, Your Highness."
A beat.
"Try not to be one of them."
And then—
She left.
The door closed softly behind her.
The room fell silent once more.
But it wasn't the same silence.
This one—
Was heavier.
Elira stood there for a long moment, unmoving.
Then slowly—
She turned.
Her gaze fell to Kael.
Still sleeping.
Still unaware.
Her fingers gently wrapped around his tiny hand.
Warm.
Alive.
Here.
"…I won't lose," she whispered.
Not to the palace.
Not to Seraphine.
Not to fate.
Her grip tightened slightly.
"No matter what."
Because now—
She understood the truth.
This wasn't just survival anymore.
It was a battle.
And the enemy—
Had just introduced herself.