The morning sun spilled gently across the northern wing, lighting up the small chambers where Lily's laughter echoed like bells.
The blind girl's tiny hands clapped in delight as she chased after shadows dancing across the floor. Her five-year-old voice was bright, innocent, and pure—a stark contrast to the heavy silence that had long haunted the rest of the palace.
Nearby, the twins—now fifteen, strong, poised—walked along the corridor, their laughter soft as they practiced a sparring match. Their movements were precise, elegant, almost regal.
Lily paused, tilting her head toward the noise.
"Who's laughing?" she asked softly, curiosity lacing her voice.
Ophelia's maid, Stacy, quickly scooped her up, cradling the child gently.
"It's… no one, dear," she said, voice trembling slightly, trying her best to sound reassuring.
But Lily, ever curious, pressed further.
"Why does Father never come? And my siblings… why don't they visit me? Are they very busy?"
Stacy's heart twisted painfully. She swallowed, hiding tears that threatened to fall. "They are… busy, my little Lily. Very busy."
Across the palace, the council gathered in the grand hall, their murmurs low and serious.
Selara's absence had left a vacuum of power, one the council sought to control carefully.
"She has become too valuable in the military," one councilman said, rubbing his chin. "Her household controls half the kingdom's forces. If left unchecked, she may become a rebel—an uncontrollable force."
Another added sharply, "We have a law. A widow must marry her sister's husband to maintain stability over the children and household. It will keep her in line, and bind the family to the throne."
The King, hollow-eyed and detached, merely nodded. His grief had consumed him so fully that even the weight of his own daughter's future barely touched him.
"Prepare the decree," he said finally. "Send it to the Duke's estate."
Selara received it with barely restrained fury.
Her hands clenched over the parchment, veins pulsing with anger.
"How dare they… How dare those men try to marry me to the man who claimed my sister's life?!" she whispered, teeth gritting.
Her father approached slowly, voice calm but firm.
"Selara… think carefully. This is not for them. It is for Ophelia's children. For Lily, for the twins. And it may be the only way to discover the truth behind your sister's death. Was it truly her illness… or something else?"
Selara's chest heaved. She paced the length of the room, dark hair flowing behind her like a storm. The anger that had always defined her on the battlefield now burned in a quieter, colder fire within her.
After hours of thought, reflection, and silent fury, she finally nodded.
"Send them my response," she said, voice steady despite the fire in her eyes.
"And prepare the date."
Far away, in the northern wing, Lily's laughter continued to ring out, innocent and unknowing.
And somewhere beyond palace walls, the threads of fate were quietly tightening—threads that would bind Selara, the King, and the children together in ways none of them could yet imagine.