Chapter 6

Alana cleared her throat, trying to salvage what little dignity she had left.

“You should be careful. If the royal family hears about this, they may consider you... unstable.”

“Unstable?” I scoffed. “You mean like lightning that can explode faces? Or maybe unstable like the entire system of noble power built on nepotism and magic levels?”

I turned to Algebra and winked. “Oh, sorry, I forgot. You wouldn’t understand. You’re like a background character in a boring novel no one finished reading.”

My father opened his mouth, closed it again, and stared at the carpet like it had answers.

And that’s when I felt it.

A flicker.

A tingle down my spine.

Not lightning. Not fear.

Observation.

Ohhh. Someone was watching me.

Not just my two-dimension siblings and villain-father. Someone else. Someone subtle. Magical. Hidden.

I walked calmly toward the massive balcony doors, heels clicking in defiance, and the moment I stepped outside, I saw it—just a glint.

A shimmer behind the gargoyle tower on the east wing. Magical distortion. Like a cloaked figure or a spy spell.

I smiled to myself. Oooh, how delicious.

“Someone’s spying on me,” I said casually, flicking my hair over my shoulder like I wasn’t about to drop the biggest tea bomb of the year.

Alana’s breath caught.

Algebra looked toward the window like he had any magical perception beyond potato quality.

“W-what do you mean?” my father said tightly.

I turned around slowly, letting the wind blow through my gown dramatically because I was extra now and fully leaning into it.

“I mean,” I said, stepping back into the room, “that someone cloaked in magic is perched on the tower across from us and thinks I haven’t noticed. Adorable, really.”

My fingers sparked.

A single flick. A pulse. And just like that—BOOM.

The distant tower crackled. The spy’s invisibility spell shattered with a burst of pale blue static. And oh my god—

There. He. Was.

A hooded figure in dark robes, eyes wide as his cover was blown to the seven realms. He stumbled, cursed, and vanished in a poof of smoke, teleporting away like a roach in the kitchen light.

I turned back to my family, smiling like I just exposed a secret affair at a tea party.

“Well?” I said, voice sugary and lethal. “Were you going to mention that, Father? Or did you also forget to tell me someone’s trying to monitor my every move?”

His face? Stone cold.

Gotcha.

“Let me make something clear,” I said, lightning curling lazily around my fingers like a pet snake, “I’m not some hidden card in your deck. I’m the wild joker in this story, and if anyone tries to play me—spy on me, use me, marry me off to some strategic ugly duke I’ll set on fire—they’ll wish I stayed powerless.”

Alana blinked.

Algebra whispered something about getting tea.

My father?

Silent.

Good.

I turned on my heel and walked back to the center of the room. The maids at the edge of the wall? Pale. Shaking. One of them dropped a tray of towels like it weighed her sins.

I sat on the velvet chaise with the grace of a villainess or a goddess reborn and let the storm inside me settle—for now.

Because today was just the beginning.

They thought I was a pawn. But pawns don’t summon lightning. Pawns don’t see the spies.

And pawns sure as hell don’t sass nobility into silence. Checkmate, darling.

The next day…Oh it was chaos and drama.

The council chamber was every villain's dream room. High ceilings. Thick curtains. A red carpet that screamed “betrayal happened here once, maybe twice.”

Seven thrones for seven big egos, and at the center— A throne of solid mana crystal, glittering with raw power and generational trauma.

That’s where the King sat.

And beside him? The Queen. Graceful, beautiful, calculating, with cheekbones sharp enough to cut down a rebellion.

And me? Well, I walked in with the kind of energy that said “I'm not here to play politics. I am politics now.”

I didn’t bow. Let’s make that clear.

I walked straight into that chamber, dark gown flaring, like a real villainess, chin high, and sass dialed up to biblical levels.

The noble council whispered like flies. A few snorted. Someone gasped when they saw the faint glow still rippling through my fingertips.

Good. Be scared.

And there he was.

Duke Alaric. Hot. Unbothered and brooding.

Sitting to the king’s right like the human embodiment of winter and boring romance tropes. He nodded at me—barely.

I nodded back—regally. Maybe too regally. I think I winked. Whatever. I blacked out for a second on the power high.

Then came the voice. Deep. Ancient. Slightly irritated. “Lady Abigail MacMayer,” the king said, adjusting the giant crown like it weighed more than his patience. “We are told you have awakened a power not seen in ten generations. Explain.”

I clasped my hands in front of me, gave a polite smile, and said:

“Oh, Your Majesties. Where do I begin?”

And I told them.

I mean… Everything.

I told them how I spent my entire life treated like a decorative houseplant—pretty, quiet, ignored.

I told them how the staff mistreated me, how I was poisoned, starved, isolated, and verbally dragged by every breathing member of House MacMayer—including Father Mustache and his twin noodle children, Alana and Algebra.

I told them about the knight who pushed me—how my rage boiled, how lightning cracked from my skin like a divine scream, how I slapped him into a new constellation.

I told them about the spy in the east tower, cloaked in magic, watching me like I was a science project about to explode.

(“Which I did,” I added sweetly. “Apologies for the property damage.”)

The room went dead silent.

Then the queen leaned forward. Her eyes glinted like she’d just smelled opportunity with a side of drama.

“You claim your family allowed this abuse?”

“Oh, not allowed. Encouraged,” I replied. “My existence was an embarrassment to them. Until, of course, I summoned divine lightning and shattered ten generations of mediocrity.”

Alana stood up behind me. “She’s exaggerating! She was always dramatic, always weak—”

I turned slowly.

I saw my father's brows knitted but good…he was silent, like he knew the odds were not in his favour.

Delicious.