Chapter 2

“Don’t look at her. If she sees you staring, we’ll be blamed.” The whisper floated to Alessia the moment she stepped into the outer hall. She froze. It had been only a short while since the Emperor left her room, but Seraphine had returned with a set of pale blue robes and gentle, firm hands that guided her out of bed. Her legs still felt weak, but she refused to stay lying down.

If she stayed in that room, the fear would swallow her. Now she stood just outside her chamber, hands clenched at her sides, heart pounding as she faced the corridor. Guards lined the walls, their armor polished, their spears upright.

Their eyes flicked to her, then away. Some tightened their grip on their weapons. Some shifted their weight. No one smiled. Servants moved past, carrying trays, linens, and stacks of scrolls. The instant they noticed her, they stiffened. The whispers started like a low buzz.

“That’s her…”

“She’s really alive…”

“Didn’t they say she was—”

“Hush! Do you want to die?”

Alessia sighed. Seraphine stepped from behind her, placing a light hand on her back. “Keep your head up, Princess,” she murmured quietly. “If you show them fear, they will remember why they thought you were weak.”

Alessia glanced at her. “So they already thought that?”

Seraphine’s lips pressed together in a small, strained line. “You… struggled to fit their expectations before,” she said. “It will be harder now but not impossible.”

Before, the original Alessia. The girl whose body she had taken. “I’ll… try,” Alessia whispered. She took a breath and stepped forward.

Every footfall echoed too loud on the marble floor. The palace was beautiful, towering and bright, with white stone walls lined with silver banners. Sunlight streamed in from tall windows, catching on crystal decorations that hung like drops of frozen rain. But none of that made the place feel warm.

It felt like walking through a museum full of expensive glass that would shatter if she breathed too loudly.

A servant girl carrying a basket of folded cloth turned a corner and almost bumped into Alessia. Her eyes went wide. She dropped to her knees so fast one cloth slipped from the basket and landed on the floor.

“I—I beg your forgiveness, Your Highness!” she stammered, hands shaking as she scrambled to gather the cloth.

Alessia blinked, startled. “It’s all right,” she said quickly, crouching down without thinking. “You don’t need to kneel. I should have watched where I was going.”

The girl was dumbfounded. Her eyes shot up, even more panicked now, as if Alessia had committed some terrible violation of the rules. “P-Princess, please, you mustn’t—”

“Stand up, Maera,” Seraphine said sharply, stepping forward. “And you, Princess Alessia, shouldn’t kneel in the corridor. The courtiers are watching.”

Alessia straightened as Seraphine gently took her elbow and pulled her up. Her face grew warm. Maera. So that was the girl’s name. Alessia gave her a small smile. “Still, I’m fine. It was just a small bump.”

Maera gulped, eyes darting between Alessia and Seraphine. “Yes, Your Highness,” she whispered, voice small. “Th-Thank you for your… kindness.” The word sounded strange falling from her lips, like it did not belong with whatever memory she had of Alessia before.

“Go on,” Seraphine said, though her tone was softer now. Maera bowed hastily and almost ran down the hallway. Alessia watched her go, a knot forming in her chest.

“They’re afraid of me,” she murmured. Seraphine looked ahead, not denying it. “Some are afraid of you,” she said. “Some are afraid of being seen near you. That is not the same thing.”

“Why?” Alessia asked quietly. “Why are they so tense?”

Seraphine hesitated. “The truth, Lady Seraphine,” Alessia pressed. “If I don’t know what I did—what she did—I won’t be able to fix anything.”

Seraphine gave her a long look, as if weighing whether to speak. Finally, she sighed. “Before your fall,” she said slowly, “you were known for causing trouble in the court. Not with violence, but with your words. You… spoke against certain nobles. You refused arranged introductions. You rejected customs. Many saw you as rude and disobedient.”

Alessia’s eyes widened. That didn’t sound like a cruel girl. That sounded like someone who didn’t fit the mold. “Was I wrong?” she asked softly.

“In this palace?” Seraphine replied, her voice flat. “Being right is less important than being quiet.” The words hit Alessia like a soft echo of her past life. She remembered teachers telling her to ignore the bullies, to smile, and to not make a fuss. She remembered how every time she tried to speak up, it made things worse.

Here, the costumes were grander but the game was the same. “So they already didn’t like me.” Alessia’s voice was calm, but her stomach twisted. “And now I came back from the dead.”

Seraphine nodded once. “Some call it a miracle,” she said. “Others call it… an inconvenience of the worst kind.” Alessia thought of the Emperor’s cold eyes. “Yes,” she muttered. “I noticed.”

They walked farther down the corridor, passing large double doors that were carved with scenes of warriors holding glowing weapons, light bursting from their hands. She wanted to stop and stare, to understand, but Seraphine kept a steady pace.

“Where are we going?” Alessia asked. “To the Morning Court,” Seraphine replied. “It is smaller than the full Great Court, but most of the inner nobles attend. The Emperor wanted your presence confirmed publicly.”

“Confirmed,” Alessia repeated. “Not welcomed.” Seraphine didn’t answer that was answer enough.They turned another corner and approached a wide set of doors guarded by two men whose armor bore the crest of a crescent moon crossed with a sword.

As they neared, the guards crossed their spears to block the way. Seraphine stopped and bowed her head slightly. “Her Highness, Princess Alessia Keren Endymion,” she announced. “By order of His Imperial Majesty Priam Endymion, we present her recovery to the Morning Court.” The right-hand guard’s jaw clenched.

His eyes flicked over Alessia like he was measuring a threat. “You may enter,” he said, but the way he said it carried no warmth.

Seraphine gestured forward. “Head high, Princess,” she murmured again. “Remember: They smell fear like blood in the water.”

It was a simple sentence, but it made Alessia’s heart trip. Images of the bathroom floor flashed in her mind. The cruel eyes, cruel hands, bullies, predators, palaces and tile floors were not so different. She inhaled slowly.

‘I died once. I won’t let them kill me again.’

She stepped through the doors. The Morning Court chamber was smaller than she expected, but grand in a different way. Instead of one massive hall, it was a round room with high windows letting in soft light. Tiers of seats curved along the walls where nobles in elegant robes sat, speaking in low voices.

The floor in the center was a patterned circle of black and white stone, like the shifting phases of the moon. At the far end, on a raised dais, sat the Emperor Priam Endymion. He wore no crown, but he did not need one. Power rested in the straight line of his back, the steady way he sat, and the cold weight of his gaze as it swept across the room.

Beside him sat a woman. Her hair was dark brown, swept up into an intricate knot decorated with silver pins that glinted in the light. Her dress was made of deep blue silk, lined with tiny pearls, modest but undeniably royal. Her face was beautiful—calm, distant, with sharp eyes that missed nothing.

The Empress Ariadne, Alessia’s new mother or the mother who had failed the girl who died. She didn’t know which.

Several heads turned when Alessia stepped into the room. Murmurs rose like the rustling of leaves.

“Is that really her?”

“She looks… different.”

“Her eyes… they weren’t like that before, were they?”

“What did you expect? She fell from a cliff.”

“Maybe she hit her head so hard she lost her brain and found manners.”

Soft laughter followed that last remark. Alessia’s shoulders tensed. She kept walking. Seraphine stopped at the edge of the patterned floor and bowed.

“Your Majesties,” she said clearly. “Princess Alessia has awoken and comes before the court at your command.” Priam’s gaze fixed on Alessia. For a heartbeat, no one moved, then Ariadne lifted her hand delicately. “Step forward, Alessia,” she said. Her voice was smooth, like silk over steel. Neither warm nor harsh. Simply… measured.

Alessia obeyed, stepping into the center of the floor. She could feel dozens of eyes on her, judging and weighing. Some are curious. Some are angry. Some are afraid. She bowed, the way Seraphine had quickly taught her in the corridor.

“I greet the Emperor and Empress of Endymion,” she said, keeping her voice as steady as she could. “I… apologize for the trouble my condition has caused.” A sharp sound cut through the murmur and laughter.

A single, amused laugh from the left side of the chamber. Alessia’s head turned. A young man lounged in one of the front-row seats, one leg crossed over the other, posture relaxed in a way that screamed arrogance. His hair was dark auburn, falling across his forehead in a way that almost looked careless. His eyes were a cool gray, sparkling with amusement.

He smirked. “You apologize for being alive?” he drawled. “That’s a first, even for you, Princess.” Whispers spiked.

“That’s Lord Cassian Varest…”

“Of course he’d say something…”

“He always hated her.”

Alessia felt her throat tighten, but she forced herself to lift her chin slightly. “I apologize for the chaos surrounding my… fall,” she said, refusing to say death. “I understand it caused trouble for the Empire.”

Cassian’s smile sharpened. “Yes,” he said. “Your death was quite convenient for some of us. Your return…” His eyes glinted with something dark. “Not so much.”

“Lord Cassian,” Ariadne said softly, not looking at him directly. “Do not forget where you sit.” Her tone was polite. The meaning was not.

Cassian laughed lightly and gave a shallow bow from his seat. “My apologies, Your Majesty. I only speak what others think.” He glanced back at Alessia. “You should’ve stayed dead.”

The words were spoken so casually, so lightly, but they sliced deeper than any insult shouted in a school hallway. Stayed dead. Luna heard the echo of her bullies.

‘You’re nothing. No one would care if you disappeared.’ Her heart stuttered. She almost saw the bathroom tile again but then another memory surfaced. The Emperor’s cold warning. ‘If you show weakness again, they will finish what they started.’

Alessia took a slow breath. She let the sting of Cassian’s words sit in her chest, heavy and sharp. Then, softly but clearly, she answered. “I apologize for the inconvenience, Lord Cassian,” she said. “But death did not want me. And it seems fate did not ask your opinion.”

A small gasp rippled through the room. Cassian’s eyebrows rose. For a second, genuine surprise flickered in his eyes. Before… had Alessia never answered him like this?

Priam’s gaze sharpened just a fraction. Ariadne’s lips pressed together, but there was the slightest hint of interest in her eyes now. Alessia’s hands were trembling where they hid in her sleeves. Her heart hammered. But she stood straight. ‘I won’t curl up. Not this time.’

Priam’s voice cut through the tension. “Enough,” he said. “This court is for matters of the Empire, not petty jabs at a recovering girl.”

Petty. Recovering. Girl. He defended her, but not out of love. Out of boredom with the topic. Still, it was something. He turned his attention fully on Alessia.

“Alessia Keren Endymion,” he said. “You have returned from an event that should have killed you. Until your Luminous state and mental clarity can be fully confirmed, you will remain under observation within the inner palace.”

Observation like a dangerous specimen. “Do you understand?” he asked. Alessia met his eyes. “Yes, Your Majesty,” she said. “I understand.”

Ariadne spoke next, her gaze softer but no less sharp. “Until your condition stabilizes,” she said, “you are forbidden from leaving the palace grounds without escort. Your tutors will evaluate the state of your Luminous core. Your schedule will be adjusted.”

Luminous core. Alessia swallowed her magic and powers. If she had any. “Do I… still have a core?” she asked before she could stop herself. More murmurs. Ariadne’s eyes narrowed just slightly. “The healers detected a faint Luminous presence when your body was recovered,” she said. “But it was unstable. They could not define its class.”

Unstable could not be defined. Seraphine had said she came from a strong bloodline. If that were true, that instability would be terrifying. Priam leaned back slightly. “For now,” he said, “consider yourself alive by the grace of the Empire. Prove you deserve to stay that way.” It was harsh.

Alessia bowed again. “I will,” she said quietly. “I… won’t waste this second chance.”

Cassian scoffed under his breath. “We’ll see,” he muttered.

Priam raised a hand. “The court will now proceed with scheduled matters. Alessia, you may withdraw. Seraphine will guide you.” Alessia straightened and stepped back the way she had come. As she turned, whispers followed her again.

“She answered him back…”

“She never spoke like that before.”

“Maybe hitting her head knocked sense into her.”

“Or madness.”

She kept her eyes forward, her back straight, even as her heart fluttered. Seraphine met her near the doorway and dipped her head. “You did well, Princess,” she murmured as they walked out. “Better than I expected.”

“That wasn’t exactly comforting,” Alessia muttered softly. Seraphine’s lips twitched, almost a smile. “Still better,” she replied.

As the court doors closed behind them, cutting off the murmur of voices, Alessia let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. Her hands shook. Her legs felt weak again. Seraphine noticed and slowed her pace. “You may rest now,” she said. “You handled yourself… differently today.” Alessia looked at her.

“Different how?” she asked. Seraphine paused. “Before,” she said slowly, “you shouted. You cried openly when Lord Cassian insulted you. You begged His Majesty to defend you more than once.” She studied Alessia for a moment. “You did none of that today.”

Alessia bit her lower lip. “I learned,” she said, “that crying in front of people like that only makes them step harder.”

Seraphine’s gaze softened, just a little. “Then perhaps,” she murmured, “you truly have been given a second chance.” Alessia looked down at her hands. A second chance.

In a new world. In a fragile, dangerous life that wasn’t really hers. She clenched her fists. “I won’t waste it,” she whispered to herself. “No matter who thinks I should’ve stayed dead.”

Far above them, unseen, two faint lights flickered in the air around her—one soft and pale, one dark and deep. They did not yet have names in this world but they were waiting.