A Royal Affair.

The laughter from the grand hall sounded faintly through the stone corridors as Amelia tugged River’s arm.

“Too loud,” her eyes burned with intent. “Let’s steal a moment to ourselves.”

River nodded without protest.

She shut the chamber door behind them, her fingers brushing the silk pouch hidden in her sleeve. Inside was Lillian’s shimmering powder. “Just a few drops,” the witch had instructed. “And desire will take care of the rest.”

She slowly poured the wine, and then watched as the powder dissolved like it was never there.

This night was supposed to be the first of many. It wasn't just an ordinary event to announce their engagement, but also... consummation. She’d waited long enough.

River reached for a cup, and she held her breath in anticipation. But then a knock interrupted.

“Your Majesty?” Came the voice of a maid. “The Queen requests Lady Amelia’s company in the solar.”

Amelia’s teeth clenched, but her smile remained flawless. “I won’t be long,” she whispered. “Don’t drink without me.” He nodded.

Alone now, River eyed the goblets. After a moment, he took it, sipping idly from his cup. He grimaced at the metallic taste. Stronger than he remembered.

A knock broke his haze again, he sighed, annoyed by the constant interruptions. As the door creaked open, she stood there, Amelia again?

“Back so soon?” He squinted.

Her hair was pinned differently. And the dress— no, this was not Amelia’s style at all. She blinked up at him, confused. “Forgive me, Sire,” she said. “I was told to clean this room now. By Head Maid Beatrice.”

He frowned. “Clean? During my engagement party?” She shifted uncomfortably. “I only arrived today. I was told this was part of my duties.”

She stepped inside warily, clutching the cleaning clothes. The scent of expensive liquor hung heavy in the air, and two half full goblets sat on a tray near the bed. River sat back down, running a hand through his hair watching her.

Something was off, his thoughts felt sluggish. “Did you... put something in this?” he gestured to the goblet.

“What? No...” She felt both confused and insulted. “I just arrived, why would I—?”

“And why are you dressed in maid uniform? What is this?” He questioned. Amber stared at him. “I don’t know what nonsense you’re talking about, but if you think I’m amused, you’re wrong.”

He stepped closer. “The wine. You drugged it. I started feeling funny the moment I drank it.” She leaned against the dresser, baffled by his words.

She'd only arrived at the castle today under the guise of a newly appointed maid, and already having to deal with nonsense. Filled with annoyance, she grabbed the goblet and drank.

“Wait— don’t!” he reached intending to stop her, but it was too late. She shoved the goblet back into his hands.

“There. Still think I poisoned it?” River took a step forward, watching her with growing unease. She turned abruptly, storming toward the door. But within seconds, she faltered. Her fingers brushed the wall for balance.

Then she staggered, and her knees buckled. River caught her before she hit the floor. Her hair brushed his jaw. It smelled faintly of lavender, not the rose oil Amelia always wore. Amber's hand clutched at his sleeve as he looked down at her.

“Careful,” he murmured. She looked up, eyes unfocused but widening as they locked on him.

Her lips moved, trying to form words, maybe a thank you. But the words wouldn't come out. For a moment he thought he saw Amelia but softer somehow.

He blinked hard. The wine was beginning to cloud his vision, and worse...

His thoughts.

“You seem… different tonight.” She smiled faintly unaware of the weight of his words. River's chest felt like it had tightened. His mind whispered that something was wrong, and that he was crossing a line he couldn’t see.

“Amelia?” he asked quietly, as though testing the name. Amber didn’t answer. Her hand rose instead, curling around the back of his neck. He could feel her pulse racing beneath her fingers and every instinct told him to step back, but he didn’t.

Her lips touched his carefully. It should have been wrong, and yet the warmth that bloomed in his chest didn’t feel wrong at all. Whatever she put in the drinks made him feel things.

Things he'd never thought he could feel for her, Amelia.

River froze, fighting it. Then, eventually his hesitation broke. He kissed her back, his restraint shattering. His fingers slowly caressed her cheek.

Gently, River lifted her. He felt her trembling fingers clutch at his shirt desperately as he carried her across the room. His mouth was still on hers. Amber gasped softly as her back met the bed, he hovered over her, searching her face for hesitation, but there was none.

Her hands slid up his chest, and her legs parted slightly beneath him as an unspoken invitation.

“Are you sure?” River could barely speak. She nodded, and that was all he needed.

He kissed her again, savouring the curve of her lips.

The quiet sound Amber made when his hand slipped beneath the folds of her maid’s gown nearly drove him feral. Though they were to be married soon, River had never truly wanted her. But right now, at this very moment, she was all he could feel.

Amelia...

She arched into him, and he groaned softly, pushing the fabric away until it was forgotten on the floor.

Their bodies moved together in rhythm, like they both somehow knew. Her skin felt warm beneath his touch, her moans echoing softly in the stillness.

And that night... the world outside the chamber ceased to exist.

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The knock at the door interrupted the quietness. Amber woke up, gripping the sheet to her chest. Her ginger hair spilled over her bare shoulders.

The chamber spun for a moment before reality struck. Her arms ached, and her thighs felt sore. Amber's whole body felt strained. Beside her was River, already pulling on his shirt. She clutched the sheet tighter to her chest watching him walk towards the door.

“Your Majesty,” a man’s voice came from the door. “The Queen requests your presence at breakfast.”

Her blood ran cold. Your Majesty? Her gaze snapped to River, his blue eyes still warm from sleep and whatever spell lingered from the night before.

“Of course,” he said. “Tell her I’ll be there shortly.”

He closed the door and turned back to her, a subtle smile touching his lips. But she wasn’t smiling. “Are you the king?” She could hardly breathe.

He tilted his head, confused. “What’s going on with you, Amelia? You’ve been odd since last night.”

Amelia? It makes sense now, he mistook Amber for her sister. She shook her head realising the mess they'd just got themselves into. “I’m not who you think I am.”

River laughed softly, not looking at her. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m not joking,” she stood slowly, wrapping the sheet around herself. “Amelia is my twin. I’m... her sister, Amber. I got here yesterday.”

He paused.

Her twin? The words scraped against something in his mind as he studied her face. “I… don’t have time for riddles this morning,” he pulled the tunic over his head. “Get dressed. My mother expects us.”

Amber stared at him, stunned. But he didn’t wait. He left the room before he could start believing her.

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The scent of roses and honeyed bread greeted River as he entered the Queen’s private solar. He forced a smile onto his face as Queen Catherine rose to greet him.

“My son,” she said, arms wide. “You look… unusually well rested.” River managed a polite bow and stepped forward and froze.

Amelia. She sat at the breakfast table, her hair brushed neatly back in a style she hadn’t worn the night before. Her gown was different too. It was a light blue dress embroidered with silver chains. Her smile was poised, and most definitely not the woman in his bed.

River's world tilted slightly, and his throat began to dry up. He composed himself before they could notice. “Mother,” he said, bowing again.

“My King,” Amelia greeted sweetly. “I trust you slept well? Last night was quite the celebration.”

He moved to sit beside his mother, carefully avoiding Amelia’s gaze. “I did,” he said slowly. “Though, I don’t recall you returning.”

Amelia laughed softly. Amelia’s perfume drifted faintly from the table. Her scent was the same as always, roses and spice, but somehow it felt foreign now, as if he’d grown used to something softer. Something that wasn’t hers.

“After I spoke with your mother, I was pulled into conversation by half a dozen nobles. By the time I made it back to your chambers, your guards told me you’d already gone to sleep. I didn’t want to disturb you.”

River’s heart pounded in his chest. So it was Amber. He looked up, eyes scanning the table, the food, anything but their faces. “Of course.”

They ate in silence for a moment. Then Catherine dabbed her lips delicately. “River. Have you given thought to the wedding date?” His hand tightened around the handle of his cup.

Amelia turned to him and smiled softly.

“Whenever you see fit, my love.” He opened his mouth to speak but got interrupted. “Your Majesty,” a voice called from the hall. Felix entered.

He bowed deeply, but his expression looked grim. “Forgive the interruption. A courier arrived with urgent dispatches from the kingdom of Endwick. King Alfred himself.”

River took the sealed parchment. The room fell into stillness as he read. Queen Catherine leaned forward.

“What does it say?” River exhaled, folding the letter shut slowly.

“Alfred declares war,” he said quietly. “He accuses our kingdom of sending witches into Endwick to weaken his harvest and assassinate his advisors.”

The queen gasped, and Amelia’s face seemed to falter for a moment.