Chapter 3 Velvet Walls And Silver Tongues

The palace corridors were endless.

Softly lit by floating glass lanterns and lined with royal blue tapestries, they curved like a maze, winding deeper into the west wing where the candidates would stay. Marble floors cushioned by embroidered runners whispered beneath slippered feet. The scent of lavender and old paper followed them like a ghost.

Lily walked in silence behind the steward, her mind already spinning.

The Queen Mother's words echoed in her memory: "You will not speak to my son unless spoken to. You will not enter the throne wing unless summoned." Yet, here they were, being sorted like chess pieces on a velvet board.

The steward finally stopped before a towering oak door. Four silver hooks were nailed into the arch-one for each ring.

"Room Three," he said. "Your names do not matter here. Only your numbers."

Then he was gone.

Lily glanced at the hook bearing her symbol-Seventeen. She stepped inside.

And nearly gasped.

The room was a dream wrapped in royalty.

Four canopied beds, each framed in white-gold metal and draped in gossamer silk, were arranged along the curved walls. Between them, a sitting area gleamed with crystal-topped tables, plush indigo armchairs, and golden vases filled with long-stemmed orchids.

The walls shimmered faintly with a spell-soft music humming just beneath the silence. A vanity of white marble and mirror glass sat near the window, and through the tall glass panes, Lily could see a view of the East Garden, its moonflowers beginning to bloom.

Even the pillows smelled like crushed roses and mountain rain.

"Impressed?"

Lily turned.

Amara stood in the doorway, already spinning in delight. "I might fake a fainting spell just to stay here longer."

Lily laughed softly. "Only you would think of that."

Another girl entered behind her-tall, severe, and sculpted in sharp beauty.

Calista.

She paused, swept the room with a judging eye, then clicked her tongue. "The tapestries are old. Dusty." She set her traveling satchel down with the poise of royalty. "At House Eron, our guest rooms are gilded with sapphire. This feels... quaint."

Lily didn't reply. Neither did Amara.

They didn't have to.

Calista's pride filled the room like incense-heavy and unavoidable.

The last girl entered quietly.

She was smaller than the rest, with soft chestnut hair and skin the color of honeyed cream. Her eyes were downcast as she moved, as if avoiding attention. But something about her quietness felt rehearsed, not natural. Controlled.

She glanced up once-just once-and her gaze landed on Lily.

"Oh."

She blinked.

"You're... very pretty. I mean... you're beautiful." Her voice was breathy, soft. Almost trembling. "Your figure. Your face. You will make a beautiful queen

Lily raised a brow. "Thank you."

The girl looked away, as though startled by her own boldness.

Calista's smile, however, was no longer gracious.

"That's quite an opinion for someone we haven't heard a name from."

The girl stiffened, fiddling with the edge of her sleeve. "Sorry. I'm Neria. From the Lakelands."

Amara tried to ease the tension. "Welcome to Room Three, Neria. I think we're the luckiest batch."

But Lily didn't miss the flicker in Neria's eyes-a hint of something dark behind her nervous blinking. That compliment hadn't been admiration.

It had been a test.

And the look Calista now gave Neria... was murderously sweet.

"I suppose we'll all be competing," Calista said airily, settling into one of the armchairs with a flourish. "Though I wouldn't count on much competition."

Amara flopped onto a nearby cushion. "Don't be so sure. Some of us bite."

Calista ignored her.

"His Majesty is a king forged by war. A ruler, not a romantic. He'll want someone who understands power. Politics. Legacy. Not someone with dimples and daydreams." She sipped from a glass of fruit water she'd poured herself. "I've already read all thirty-seven royal decrees from his father's final year. I've memorized the bloodlines of both northern duchies. And I'm fluent in ancient Caelorthian."

She leaned back smugly.

"When I wear the crown, it won't just be for love. It will be for legacy."

The room quieted.

Lily studied her, unmoved.

Then said softly, "But legacy without loyalty is like gold without weight."

Calista's jaw twitched, but she smiled-tight and cold.

Neria looked between them, eyes wide. She opened her mouth to speak, but a sudden chime echoed through the chamber-high, clear, and urgent.

All four girls stilled.

Then came the knock.

The same steward as before opened the door, his face unreadable.

"Ladies," he said. "You are to prepare. In one hour, the king will see you."

Lily's heart kicked.

The steward continued, "You are to be dressed in full regalia. House colors or court silks are permitted. Hair pinned. Eyes visible. No scent magic or concealment charms. Beauty must be natural."

Amara made a strangled sound. "Natural? I didn't travel four kingdoms for a natural first impression."

"His Majesty will observe you in the Grand Hall. Prepare accordingly."

And then the door closed.

Silence.

Then-

"Oh gods," Neria whispered. "We're really going to see him."

Amara already had her cosmetic case open. "We need to help each other. I can braid hair like a professional witch."

Calista rose slowly, like a lioness stretching.

"There's no helping a girl whose only hope is braids," she said, already heading toward the wardrobe.

Lily said nothing.

Instead, she stepped to the window, her heart fluttering. Below, servants scurried across the courtyard, lighting lanterns and scattering rose petals. The garden looked like something out of an old tale.

He would be there soon.

Raven of House Valemir.

The storm-eyed king whose gaze had never been caught... but who would see her tonight.

⸻

The room turned into a flurry of fabrics and fast footsteps.

Amara chose soft lavender with silver threading. It complimented her skin beautifully. She hummed as she pinned tiny pearl flowers into her curls.

Neria picked emerald silk with gold lining. It fit her strangely-too tight at the chest, too loose at the waist-but she didn't complain. Instead, she asked questions. Where was Lily from? What did she remember of her parents? Had she always been so "shapely"?

Amara laughed when Neria used the word "shapely." Calista did not,she seem distant.

Lily selected a deep burgundy gown with gold-stitched lilies at the hem. The fabric clung to her waist and hips, flowing into a train that made no sound. She left her curls loose but braided the front back, pinning them with a gold comb shaped like dragon wings.

Amara whistled. "If he doesn't look at you first, I'll faint in protest."

"I'll look at him first," Lily said quietly.

Amara blinked. "You're brave."

"No," Lily murmured. "I'm searching."

There was a knock again-this time softer. A maid entered, her head bowed. "It's time."

They followed her out in silence, each girl aglow like a dream. Down the corridor, more doors opened. More candidates emerged.

They were no longer girls.

They were twenty flames walking toward the wind.