The grand hall glittered under countless golden chandeliers, their flames reflecting off gilded walls and polished floors. Nobles in silks and velvets murmured and laughed, but none drew her attention. Queen Crysvella Vryndis sat tall on her gilded chair, her pale, luminous skin and sharp brown eyes cutting through the noise with effortless authority. Her curly red hair streaked with grey fell to her lower back, framing a face both regal and intimidating.

Even in the midst of all this grandeur, she was lonely. Respect and fear filled the eyes of those around her, but admiration could not warm the void she felt. The courtiers were predictable, shallow, and utterly beneath her curiosity.

Until she saw her.

A young noblewoman, tanned, petite, with dark brown curls and hazel eyes that sparkled with life, laughed quietly at some minor jest. Her plump lips curved in a warm, effortless smile, her movements graceful and unguarded. Crysvella observed, silently, letting the woman’s presence stir something she had long thought dormant. A flicker of curiosity… even desire, but her face betrayed nothing.

Thirty minutes passed. The queen, patient and deliberate, finally inclined her head toward a lady-in-waiting. “Go fetch her,” she commanded, her voice soft yet sharp, carrying absolute authority.

The lady-in-waiting moved quickly, bowing as she guided the young woman through the hall. Nobles turned their heads, whispers dying mid-word. Crysvella did not rise. She did not speak. She merely watched.

The young noblewoman approached, eyes widening at the proximity of the legendary queen. Cold brown eyes met warm hazel, and the hall seemed to hold its breath. Crysvella’s lips curved ever so slightly, a hint of the predator beneath the queenly composure.

Finally, her voice, low, measured, and commanding, broke the tension:

“Step closer.”

The words were simple. The weight behind them was immense.