Chapter 5 The Ball and the Blades

The chandeliers blazed like captive stars, casting a golden glow over the ballroom below. Every noble family in the kingdom had gathered - silks swirling, jewels glittering, lies wrapped in lace and laughter.

Thalia stood at the top of the grand staircase, a vision in midnight blue.

In her first life, she had worn pale rose - soft, forgettable. A color chosen by the queen to make her seem "pliable." Tonight, she chose darkness. Sapphire velvet that clung to her like armor, silver embroidery at the cuffs - quiet symbols of House Melbourne, of power she once gave away too freely.

The crowd turned as the herald announced her name.

"Lady Thalia Melbourne, daughter of the North."

The same title they would one day strip from her. Not this time.

She descended slowly, owning each step.

Prince Alaric waited near the dais, dressed in black and royal gold. His expression unreadable, as always - but his gaze did not waver from her. Not tonight.

He offered his hand.

She hesitated, just for a moment - then placed hers in his, silk brushing against leather.

"You wear war colors," he murmured as they began to move across the marble floor.

"Then I suppose I came ready," she replied.

A pause. Then his low voice again.

"Ready for what?"

Thalia turned her head, meeting his gaze. "For everything."

Around them, the nobles watched like hawks. Whispers rippled behind fans.

"She's bold tonight."

"She looks like her mother."

"Why is the queen watching so closely?"

Yes - the queen watched. From her elevated throne, lips parted ever so slightly, eyes narrowing as Thalia danced like she wasn't the girl she remembered.

Because I'm not.

Later, as the music shifted and guests changed partners, Thalia stepped away for air. She found herself on the edge of the garden terrace, the night cool against her skin, her pulse finally slowing.

"You shouldn't be alone out here."

The voice was quiet. Familiar.

She turned - and there he was again.

Riven.

Dark cloak, shadowed eyes. A ghost from her past life. Or was he something more?

"You shouldn't be here," she said calmly.

"I told you - the game has already changed. You just haven't seen how deep it goes."

Thalia crossed her arms. "Then show me."

Riven stepped closer, his voice low. "Your uncle's begun meeting with a foreign envoy. In secret. The queen knows. So does the prince. You're the only one being kept in the dark - again."

A cold wind passed between them.

Thalia straightened. "Then I suppose I'll have to bring a little light."

And as the orchestra swelled behind her, as laughter echoed through marble halls, Thalia turned back toward the ballroom.

Not to dance.

To begin.