The Court of Snakes

It had only been three days since the engagement was made public, and already the invitations came like arrows through the door.

Elira read the latest card in silence, gold ink shimmering against ivory parchment.

> Lady Elira Valestria,

You are most graciously invited to an exclusive tea gathering hosted by Countess Nyla Vernoux at the Winter Gardens. Attendance is highly anticipated.

The phrase graciously invited might as well have read formally summoned.

Kael glanced up from the document he was reading across the study.

“Another one?”

She nodded. “They’re lining up to test the waters.”

“They want to see if the villainess bites.”

She smiled faintly. “Let’s give them a show.”

---

The Winter Gardens were a maze of crystal and frostglass, located deep within the palace walls. Once a private greenhouse for the royal family, it had become the favorite hunting ground of noblewomen with sharp tongues and deadlier fans.

Elira arrived precisely on time, escorted by Kael’s right-hand man, Captain Alden Grey, a silent, hawk-eyed soldier who never left her side since her move to Leonhart estate.

Inside, the ladies were already seated at a long table adorned with sugar-dusted cakes and imported tea leaves. Their gowns glittered. Their smiles did not.

“Lady Elira,” said Countess Nyla, voice like honey hiding poison. “We’re so pleased you joined us. You look... recovered.”

“Recovery requires injury,” Elira replied, gracefully settling into the empty seat at the end. “And I was never wounded — just misjudged.”

A few ladies coughed behind their gloves.

Nyla smiled, not missing a beat. “We were simply curious about the Duke’s... preferences. After all, his sudden engagement was quite the surprise.”

“As was your new hairstyle,” Elira said sweetly. “But we all adapt.”

A full silence fell. One noblewoman choked on her tea.

Elira sipped from her porcelain cup, eyes steady.

She wasn’t here to win friends. She was here to survive.

---

Halfway through the gathering, Nyla leaned in.

“We were speaking of family legacies earlier,” she said, voice calm. “Some say your house was already in decline before the scandal.”

Elira set her cup down. Slowly.

“Perhaps. But decline is relative. My father may have lost coin, but I still have my spine.”

Nyla raised an eyebrow. “Some would argue your real legacy is scandal itself.”

“And yet you invited me here. What does that say about yours?”

Another silence.

Another wound left open.

But Elira noticed something strange — across the table, one noblewoman wasn’t laughing, wasn’t smirking.

She was staring.

Lady Amaria Caelin — a widow from the western border. Quiet. Always alone.

When Elira glanced at her, the woman looked away quickly, almost... nervously.

Interesting, Elira thought. Not everyone here came to attack.

---

When Elira returned to Leonhart estate that evening, she found Kael waiting in the courtyard, pacing near the stables.

He was in uniform again — not for ceremony, but for war.

“You went without telling me,” he said flatly.

“I had Alden. He never left my side.”

“That’s not the same.”

She walked past him, then turned. “You don’t get to protect me from everything, Kael. If this alliance is to work, I need to face them. On my terms.”

He met her eyes, dark and unreadable. “And if they strike?”

“Then I’ll strike harder.”

He stepped closer. “They’ll aim for the cracks in your mask.”

She looked up at him, chin high. “Then I’ll wear steel instead.”

For a long moment, neither of them moved.

Then Kael whispered, “You’re braver than I gave you credit for.”

“And you’re colder than I expected,” she replied.

His voice dropped lower. “You haven’t seen me when I’m angry yet.”

She paused. “No. But I hope I’m there when you are.”

---

That night, as she undressed for bed, Elira found something strange beneath her pillow — a folded slip of paper.

She opened it slowly.

> “They’re watching the kitchens. Don’t drink the tea. - A”

Her fingers froze.

Amaria?

She quickly burned the note in the candle’s flame and stared into the firelight, heart steady — but mind racing.

The snakes were stirring.

And the hunt had only begun.

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