The Return of The Forsaken
1012 Words
Chapter Four
The palace hall glittered like a jewel carved from arrogance.
Golden chandeliers blazed overhead, their light spilling across marble floors where nobles glided in silks and jewels, laughter echoing like music that reeked of cruel prosperity. Perfume masked decay. Polished smiles hid sharpened tongues.
They were celebrating unity.
They were celebrating her replacement.
Elisha stood just beyond the towering doors, listening to the murmur of her name ripple through the servants like a fearful prayer.“She’s truly awake…”
“They say she walks again…”
“Is it a miracle or a curse?”
She flexed her fingers lightly.
A curse, perhaps. For them.
The attendant pushed the doors open.
Sound poured out, conversation faltered, and within seconds, every eye turned.
Camila Everhart stepped forward.
No timid posture. No hunched shoulders. No apologetic gaze. She walked as if the floor belonged to her alone, her pale gown flowing like moonlight against the polished stone. The faint scar near her temple wasvisible — not hidden, not softened — a quiet accusation etched into her skin.
Whispers scattered across the hall like frightened birds.
At the far end stood the royal dais, where Prince Fredrick and his bride occupied thrones meant for legacy.
Her sister.
Lyanna Everhart glanced up — and froze.
The color drained from her powdered face as her eyes locked onto Camila, slow terror seeping through her composure. For a fleeting moment, the mask of innocence cracked, revealing the girl who had once shoved her sister toward death.
“Impossible…” Lyanna breathed, fingers tightening around the prince’s arm.
But it was most interesting that Fredrick released her hand.
His gaze lowered from his bride to the woman approaching him — the woman he had once sworn devotion to — and confusion tangled with something dangerously close to regret.
“Camila…” he murmured, almost too quietly to be heard.
She stopped several feet away, her expression calm, serene even, like the quiet before a storm.
“Your Highness,” she said, dipping a graceful curtsy — deliberate, composed,painfully perfect. “You seem surprised.”
“You… you’ve recovered?” he asked, voice uncertain.
“You celebrated my replacement with impressive speed,” she replied softly. “Recovery must appear inconvenient.”
A ripple of unease ran through the court.
Lyanna forced a trembling smile. “Sister, we were so worried! We prayed for you every day—”
“Did you?” Elisha asked gently, turning her gaze upon her.
The warmth in her eyes did not reach their depths.
“Did your prayers include the moment your hands pressed against my back on the staircase?”
The hall went still.
Dead silent.
Lyanna’s smile shattered.
“That was an accident!” she burst out too quickly. “You lost your balance, you’ve always been clumsy—”
“Enough,” Prince Fredrick interjected sharply, though his eyes never left Camila’s face. “This is not the place for old grievances.”
“Nor is it the place for stolen vows,” Elisha replied, gaze unwavering.A collective intake of breath rippled through the nobles.
From the edge of the hall, Duke Adrian Blackwell observed in silence, his dark eyes following her every movement like a hawk tracking fire.
“You must understand,” the prince continued, tension evident in his voice, “your condition was grave. The kingdom could not wait indefinitely—”
“For my corpse?” she offered coolly.
He flinched.
“For your convenience,” she corrected.
A faint, cruel tremor danced throughLyanna’s lashes as she leaned closer to the prince. “She’s unstable,” she whispered loudly enough to plant seeds of doubt. “The fall must have affected her mind.”
Elisha stepped closer, just enough for Lyanna to see the truth in her stare.
“No, dear sister,” she said softly. “The fall only took away my fear.”
Lyanna paled.
From her peripheral vision, she caught Adrian’s gaze sharp upon her — approval gleaming faintly behind his composed stare.
He was enjoying this.
And perhaps… protecting her, too.“My presence here is not to reclaim titles,” Elisha announced, voice perfectly controlled. “Nor is it to beg for sympathy. I have awakened only to remind the world of one thing.”
Her eyes swept across the hushed hall.
“I lived.”
Whispers stirred again, growing anxious, unsettled.
“And those who ensured I nearly did not… will live with the consequences of that truth.”
The nobles shifted uneasily. Unease crept into the very decor of the room.
Lyanna’s lips trembled as she struggled to regain her composure. “You’re embarrassing yourself, Camila. This isn’t how a lady behaves.”
“A lady,” Elisha murmured, “does not push her sister down a staircase.”
Gasps erupted.
Prince Fredrick rose from his throne, caught between scandal and silent guilt. “That is a serious accusation,” he warned. “Do you have proof?”
Elisha’s eyes sparkled coldly. “Proof has its time,” she replied. “Today is merely introduction.”
Her gaze shifted deliberately toward Adrian — who stepped forward slightly, hispresence immediately shifting the atmosphere.
“I find Lady Everhart’s return… refreshing,” he said coolly. “The court grows dull without truth.”
Eyes widened. Whispers flared.
Is the Duke siding with her?
Lyanna’s breath stuttered.
“And I would advise,” Adrian continued, “that no one mistake her composure for weakness.”
A subtle smile touched Elisha’s lips.
So the feared Duke had placed his shadow beside her.How pleasant. A dangerous alignment.
A powerful one.
As the music falteringly resumed and nervous conversations rekindled, Elisha felt it — the shift, the tremble, the silent realization settling into every noble heart.
Camila Everhart was no longer a forgotten ghost.
She was a force, a dangerous force.
And as Adrian’s eyes lingered upon her from across the candlelit hall, filled with something dark and impossible to name, he knew one truth with absolute certainty:
The game had begun.
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