Chapter 1
The carriage jolted forward, wheels rattling over the cobblestones as lanterns flickered against the glass. My sister Isabella sat beside me, her posture straight and flawless, while our mother sat opposite us, watching like a hawk for the slightest imperfection.
“Sit up straight,” she ordered sharply as I leaned into the cushions.
I obeyed with a sigh. Lectures were her constant companion whenever I was within reach.
We were on our way to the palace for the King’s birthday celebration—a two-week event that had the whole kingdom buzzing. Every family of high rank had been invited, every carriage rolling toward the glittering palace tonight filled with jewels, silk, and ambition.
Our family was no different. We were dressed to impress, though it mattered more for Isabella than for me. She was perfection embodied—her golden-brown hair coiled into shining ringlets, her gown cut in a way that made her look like she had stepped straight from a painting. Even the pearls at her throat seemed to glow brighter on her skin.
I, Nicoletta Valenti, was her opposite in every way. My thick red hair refused to be tamed, even pinned and smoothed into submission. My green eyes had always been too sharp, too restless. My nature was inquisitive when it should have been quiet, defiant when it should have been obedient. Mother had long ago abandoned hope that I might be molded into Isabella’s kind of beauty, the kind that fit neatly into noble expectations.
And yet, here I was, wrapped in sapphire silk, pretending.
Rumor had it that at the end of this celebration, the King might choose a bride. It was not every day that he mingled with his subjects, and Mother was determined that if he chose, it would be Isabella. That was the hope she nurtured like fire in her chest, the reason she pinned Isabella into gowns and pearls, the reason she tolerated me at all tonight.
“Remember,” she said now, her gaze sliding toward me as the carriage swayed, “your behavior reflects on your sister as well. Do not embarrass us.”
I pressed my lips together, stung though I had heard it all before. Isabella gave a small, serene smile, as if she were already accustomed to wearing the crown Mother imagined for her.
My stomach twisted. I was proud of Isabella, but I couldn’t help the creeping sense of inadequacy that always rose when I sat beside her. She was everything noble families prized. I was everything they whispered about.
Still, I knew the stakes. With Father gone and no sons to inherit, it fell to Isabella and me to secure our family’s future. If we failed to marry men of rank, our uncle would seize the viscountcy. Mother could not allow that. And so, every smile, every gesture tonight mattered.
The carriage slowed as we approached the palace gates. My breath caught at the sight. The sprawling towers and marble steps gleamed with torchlight. Music floated through the air, laughter spilling from wide-arched windows. Carriages lined the drive, discharging noble families in a cascade of silks and jewels. Guards in crisp livery directed the flow, their presence both intimidating and reassuring.
When our turn came, the footman opened the door. Isabella descended first, graceful as a swan, her skirts sweeping the gravel without a sound. I followed, less elegant, gathering my gown awkwardly as I stepped down. Mother’s gaze burned into me, reminding me of every rule I had already broken without meaning to.
We were led through towering doors into the grand hall, where chandeliers blazed overhead and polished floors reflected the light like mirrors. Servants bowed, attendants whispered, and the air thrummed with expectation.
Before long, another maid in the Queen’s livery approached us. “The young ladies will be shown to their rooms,” she said with a curtsey.
Mother gave a satisfied nod. Isabella and I followed as we were guided up a sweeping staircase, past corridors draped with banners and gilded with candlelight. My heart beat faster with each step, a mix of awe and unease.
At last, the maid stopped before a pair of doors. “This will be your chamber,” she said, motioning inside.
I trailed after, half-expecting Mother to scold me once more, half-hoping she wouldn’t.
The celebration had only just begun.
And for better or worse, so had the battle for our future.
