Chapter Thirteen: Fire and Conquest
711 Words
The chandeliers above glittered like falling stars, casting diamond-patterned light over velvet curtains and wine-polished floors. The grand ballroom of the Kingston estate was drenched in elegance and wealth—every movement, every word, every breath, felt choreographed. But chaos brewed beneath the crystal chandeliers.
Amazon walked in.
Not escorted. Not pre-announced. Just walked in.
A black dress so simple it screamed power. Hair coiled high like a crown of defiance. No jewels. No lace. Just her presence—and it was louder than thunder.
People turned. Whispers ignited like dry leaves to fire. “Is that her?” “The village girl?” “No... the one Hermit brought?”
Hermit stood at the far end of the hall, beside his grandfather, Sebastian. The moment his eyes met hers, the room became irrelevant.
Snow’s wine glass trembled in her manicured hand.
Athena scoffed. “She came. In that?”
Sebastian raised a brow, leaning slightly on his luxurious cane. “So that’s the girl, hmm?”
Hermit didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. He was already walking across the room.
Each step was controlled fire.
Amazon didn’t flinch when he reached her. “You’re late,” he said.
“You’re loud,” she replied. “And you’re staring.”
His lips twitched. Not a smile. Not quite. “You came.”
“I owed you a performance,” she said. “Let’s start the act.”
He offered his arm.
She didn’t take it. Just walked forward and left him to follow. And he did.
From the balcony above, King watched with the cool detachment of a man born to violence. Beside him, his cousin whispered, “That’s the Kingston girl?”
King’s jaw tightened. “No,” he said. “That’s his girl. But she doesn’t belong to him.”
---
Later in the night, the performances started. Music, lights, dancers in diamond masks.
Amazon stood alone at the edge of the ballroom, sipping champagne she didn’t like, wondering what kind of people wore smiles like weapons.
Snow approached, wearing a gown that looked like it cost more than a hospital. Her voice was honeyed. “You clean up well, sss. Almost like a real woman.”
Amazon sipped again. “And you speak well. Almost like a real person.”
Snow’s eyes flashed. “Just don’t forget your place.”
Hermit’s voice sliced in. “She knows it. That’s why you’re nervous.”
Snow spun around, startled. “Hermit—”
“She doesn’t need defending,” he said coldly, stepping closer to sss. “But I enjoy doing it.”
Snow clenched her jaw and stormed off. Athena’s eyes narrowed from across the room. The party had shifted.
Power was tilting.
---
In a quiet corridor behind the hall, sss leaned against the wall, breathing. She wasn’t overwhelmed. She was calculating.
A small hand tugged her dress. Pickles.
“Your dress is too plain. But you’re still a goddess,” he whispered like it was a secret.
She knelt. “How did you even get here?”
He grinned. “I told Grandpa I wanted to see the most interesting person in the house. He said, ‘Follow the noise.’ So I did.”
She chuckled softly. But then her eyes turned to the darkened end of the hallway where a tall shadow leaned silently—King.
“You didn’t look like you belonged back there,” he said.
“I never do,” she replied.
“You planning to win them over?”
She looked at him. “I don’t play for applause.”
King stepped closer. His eyes were sharp, dangerous. “Then what do you play for, sss?”
She didn’t answer. But she didn’t walk away either.
Behind them, Hermit watched.
Possessive. Quiet. Burning.
This wasn’t just a party. It was a war. And sss was the territory everyone wanted to conquer.
---
At the c****x of the night, the birthday toast began.
Sebastian lifted his glass, eyes scanning the room. “To legacy, and to strength. And to those who never bow unless it’s to their own fire.”
His gaze stopped on sss.
Hermit didn’t toast. He just looked at her.
And smiled.
But it wasn’t kind.
It was a warning.
- Writer
