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T here were already several couples paired off, meandering along the graveled pathways.

They lingered amongst the topiaries and tidy rose gardens, while chaperones trailed behind.

I sipped on a stolen glass of champagne, attempting to hide in plain sight, while I passed one of several large fountains.

My chaperone was otherwise-engaged and nowhere in sight.

My governess, Adeline, was my assigned babysitter for the evening and currently occupied with one of the footmen. I was in no hurry to find her.

I should’ve stayed longer . I didn’t want to let Ophelia down, but the fear that gripped me every time I got near the ballroom was paralyzing.

My mother had died on the dance floor. Unbeknownst couples had waltzed around her as she fell to the floor.

I couldn’t be in that room now without hearing the screams from that night.

My childhood innocence had been shredded to ribbons in a matter of moments.

The doctor said it was poison—someone had slipped it into her glass.

One sip was all it took to shatter a family.

I was supposed to be in my bedroom sleeping, but I snuck downstairs to watch the grownups dance.

I’d never fully recovered from the scene I’d witnessed…

from the monumental loss I experienced. No one— nothing —could replace the love of a mother.

Especially my mother. She’d been sunshine personified—a living flame that glowed too bright and burnt out too soon.

She was Ophelia’s only sibling and King Hadrian had been an only child.

Since they had no children of their own, I was currently next in line for the throne, against all odds.

I selfishly wished the Queen would remarry and try for an heir, but with her silver hair, it was likely she was past her child bearing years.

One devastating night, eleven years ago, had set me on a path I never wanted or expected; I was to be the future Queen of Aurelius.

There were five other Kingdoms in Erador, but none of them wielded the power or strength of Aurelius.

Every continent looked to us for cultural influence.

My aunt was loving and kind, but she was also fierce and ruthless.

I didn’t think I’d ever be capable of filling her shoes. My fear of crowds created an obstacle that made me a terrible prospect for a role in leadership. The flashbacks that hit me whenever I was in the ballroom were vivid enough to bring me to my knees.

I never danced in public because of it. But I was still expected to know all of the dances, and tonight the council had highly encouraged me to swallow my fear.

We never found out who poisoned my mother.

Ophelia said it was most likely rebels trying to send a message to the royal family that we weren’t untouchable.

The Crown had enemies, despite its strength.

There were reasons to resent us. The caste system was atrocious.

Noble families gorged themselves on decadence by exploiting the masses.

It was a broken system for everyone but those born into privilege.

I’d encouraged Ophelia to break the cycle, to demand change, but she told me I was too young to understand. There were many shades between black and white, and it was in the grey that one must rule. I hated politics.

I headed to the gardens on the north side of the courtyard, looking back to make sure no one was watching.

I hurried down the path, rubbing my temple with one hand, while I slung back my glass of champagne with the other.

The headache I’d been feeling since morning continued to worsen.

It wrapped around my head and demanded my attention, pounding so loudly that the crunch of gravel beneath my feet wasn’t enough to drown it out.

In hindsight, alcohol hadn’t been the best idea.

I was going to a quiet place where I could gather my thoughts.

As much as I loved Cara and Ophelia, I’d never told them of my private retreat.

I hadn’t told Deric of this garden either, even though it would’ve been the perfect rendezvous location.

This was my secret—a garden so special, I was afraid it would somehow lose its magic if I showed it to anyone else.

I’d been coming here ever since I discovered it as a wandering child.

I used to go on walks by myself and pretend my mother was with me.

She told me it was a place that called to people like me—a place where I could come and talk to her when I felt lonely.

She was in the birds that stopped to bathe in the fountains, the butterflies that drank the nectar, and the rain that watered the flowers—a place that tied us together through space and time.

I looked up at the sky, thinking of her, before ducking under a low hanging branch that led off the garden path and onto an overgrown trail. I followed it as I took high steps over ferns, bluebells, and wood violets.

Eventually, I saw a wall of ivy. It would’ve been easily missed unless one knew what they were looking for.

I ran my fingers along the mossy stone, and felt for the familiar latch of an old wooden door.

I pushed hard with my shoulder, knowing there were vines on the other side.

Even when I visited this garden daily, the ivy always grew back over the door… like it didn’t want to be found.

A few more shoves and I was in. The exertion caused my skull to spark with pain.

I hardly ever got headaches. It was strange one should strike so violently today, of all days.

I looked through the doorway into the garden that laid before me.

It always seemed to be perfectly maintained; not overly manicured, but beautifully wild.

Weeds never choked out any of the perpetually blooming flowers.

Royal purple wisteria hung in clumps over the walls.

Star Jasmine and lavender sprouted from the ground.

Tiny white tea-roses were tucked between puffs of pink peonies.

Plants didn’t follow a seasonal pattern here; they grew year round, even sprouting up through snow.

The garden seemed to contain a splash of magic and I didn’t dare question how or why.

Part of me thought this garden was proof that I was mad.

I picked up my skirts and collapsed against the wall across from the entrance. I breathed in and out, attempting to soothe my mind. I always felt safest in this spot, facing the door—a vantage point that lulled me into security and soon to sleep.