Rivals
888 Words
Chapter Five
The palace did not sleep.
It watched.
Long after Camila withdrew from the grand hall, the corridors hummed with anxious speculation. Curtains concealed listening ears. Smiling lips sharpened into knives, the moment backs were turned. Every noble who had witnessed her return carried the same question in their eyes.
Why now?
And more importantly—
How dangerous has she become?but no. Camila could not do anything she was dull and weak. In a chamber adorned with rose-gold drapes and crystal mirrors, Lyanna paced like a caged bird, her carefully crafted composure splintering with every turn.
“She looked at me like she knew everything,” Lyanna hissed, she said inwardly trembling as she wrung her lace-gloved hands. “Like she could see that moment all over again.”
Prince Fredrick stood near the window, conflicted shadows crossing his face.
“She accused you openly,” he said, his voice filled with uncertainty. “In front of the court. That was reckless of her.”
“That was calculated,my lord. You know i could never do what she claims i did”,Lyanna snapped. “She wants pity. She wants your heart to remember her!”
“She nearly died, Lyanna.”
“And she should have stayed dead!” The words burst out before she could tame them.
A heavy silence followed.
Fredrick turned slowly. “Careful,” he warned. “Even walls have loyalty.”
Lyanna swallowed, forcing herself to steady. “You believe me, don’t you?” she whispered, stepping toward him. “You believe that fall was an accident?”
His hesitation was slight — but fatal.
“I believe,” he said, “that the timing of her awakening is… inconvenient.”
Not denial. Not assurance.
Fear flickered behind her eyes.
Was he going to abandon her for that pitch?
Across the palace, Camila rested against the balcony’s cold stone rail, the night air threading through her hair like a quiet caress. Lanterns glowed below, painting the royal gardens in soft gold — a mockery of peace.
“You unbalanced them tonight.”
Adrian’s voice carried faint satisfaction as he joined her, his presence folding into the silence like a shadow that belonged there.“That was only the surface,” she replied calmly. “Their true panic has not yet to bloomed.”
“You intend to push further,” he observed.
“I intend to force them to reveal their sins,” she corrected softly. “Fear makes people careless. And careless people make mistakes.”
His gaze lingered on her profile, the faint curve of her lips, the unwavering resolve in her eyes.
“You speak as though vengeance is poetry.”
“It is,” she murmured. “A slow, deliberate stanza of justice.”
Adrian gave a low hum, something contemplative. “And what of your sister? When will you strike her directly?”
Camila’s expression did not change.
“When she least expects forgiveness,” she said. “Then I will give her none.”
A pause passed.
“Be careful,” he added. “Your boldness draws predators.”
She turned slightly toward him, studying that composed, unreadable face.
“And does that include you, Your Grace?”
A flicker of something dangerously close to amusement crossed his eyes.“I do not prey on what I admire,” he replied. “I protect what I respect.”
The words landed heavier than intended.
Before she could respond, hurried footsteps echoed along the corridor.
“My lady!” her maid whispered urgently as she approached. “The Queen has summoned you for tea tomorrow morning.”
A summons.
Not a request.
Adrian’s gaze sharpened instantly. “That is no mere courtesy.”
Camila straightened, a quiet readiness settling into her bones.
“No,” she agreed softly. “It is an interrogation.”
The Queen Mother — the silent architect of royal control, the woman who valued power order above blood — did nothing without purpose.
“She will test you,” Adrian said. “Weigh your loyalty. Measure your instability.”
“Then let her measure,” Camila replied, lifting her chin slightly. “And find iron where she expected glass.”
His eyes darkened approvingly.
“Do not go alone,” he added, voice lower now. “Your sister’s tears carry venom, and the Queen Mother favours peace over truth.”
“I have been alone my entire life,” she said quietly.
A softer pause followed.
“Not anymore,” Adrian replied.
She did not look at him this time — but the faint tightening in her chest betrayed the weight of those words.
From across the garden, behind the lattice of ivy, Lyanna watched from a distance, her heart twisting as she caught sight of her sister standing beside the Duke.
Side by side.
Unshaken.Elevated.
Her nails dug into her palms.
“If the Duke protects her…” she whispered to herself. “Then I must destroy him first.”
The night listened.
And far above, the moon hung silent witness to the fragile beginning of a war where love, betrayal, and power would soon spill beyond control.
Tomorrow, the Queen Mother would probe her strength.
And Camila Everhart would smile —
because queens do not interrogate victims.
They challenge rivals.
- Writer
