Chapter 2
2729words
"Oh, my dear sister, I heard you've finally rejoined the land of the living?" Avril's voice dripped with honey, but the venom in her eyes was unmistakable.
Avril von Rosenblad, eldest princess of the Valencia Empire, wielded Grade A fire magic with such aptitude she'd earned the title "Rose of Flames." Her flame-red hair and emerald eyes complemented features that were undeniably stunning, but her beauty masked a personality as cruel as it was arrogant.
The noble ladies in her wake were all prominent figures at court:
Lady Victoria von Hart, Countess: Avril's shadow and echo, equally arrogant and twice as venomous
Lady Lucia de Montes, Duchess: All gentle smiles while secretly living for others' misfortunes
Lady Angelica von Neu, Marchioness: Blessed with magical talent but cursed with consuming jealousy
"How thoughtful of you, sister." Greenriel executed a flawless court curtsy, her skirt blooming like a perfect rose. "I'm truly honored that such distinguished ladies would trouble themselves to visit me."
Surprise flickered across Avril's face. The Isabella she knew would be trembling like a leaf by now—not standing before them with the poise of a seasoned courtier.
"Three days unconscious must have left you terribly weak," Victoria simpered with mock concern. "Perhaps I should examine you? My healing magic is quite adequate."
She reached toward Greenriel's forehead, fingers glowing faintly.
Through her prophecy, Greenriel knew Victoria planned to cast detection magic to confirm her supposedly pathetic magical reserves, then mock her publicly.
"That won't be necessary, but I appreciate your concern." Greenriel stepped back gracefully while subtly releasing a pulse of mental magic.
Victoria's eyes widened as dizziness struck her. She stumbled, nearly collapsing.
"Lady Victoria!" Greenriel rushed forward with perfectly feigned concern, steadying the woman. "Are you unwell? Perhaps you've been worrying about me too much?"
"I'm… fine." Victoria's face drained of color. What was that? Mental magic? But Isabella only possessed weak light magic… didn't she?
"Since you've all been kind enough to visit, why don't we sit for tea?" Greenriel gestured toward her sitting room. "Martha, refreshments for our distinguished guests, please."
Martha promptly appeared with an elegant tea service and a tray of delicate pastries.
"This is a rare blend from the northern mountains," Greenriel said, personally pouring for each guest. "Sister, as the highest-ranking lady present, please do us the honor of tasting first."
Avril lifted the cup to her lips, then paused, noticing an unusual blue tint to the liquid.
"This tea… why is it blue?"
"Oh, that's the Truth Herb infusion," Greenriel explained casually. "It reveals whether someone has cast harmful magic recently. If they have…" she smiled sweetly, "the tea changes color."
Avril's expression froze. Just yesterday, she'd cast a lingering curse on Isabella's chambers, hoping to prolong her sister's illness.
"This tea… doesn't appeal to me." She set down the cup with forced casualness.
"Not to your taste, Sister?" Greenriel asked with wide-eyed innocence. "Or perhaps there's something weighing on your conscience?"
"What exactly are you implying?" Avril snapped.
"Nothing specific," Greenriel shrugged elegantly before picking up her own cup and draining it in one graceful motion. "See? My tea remains unchanged—proof of a clear conscience."
The noble ladies exchanged meaningful glances. Everyone knew how Avril typically treated Isabella, and her refusal to drink spoke volumes.
"Are you daring to question me?" Avril shot to her feet, wisps of flame beginning to dance around her fingertips.
"Question my beloved sister? I wouldn't dream of it." Greenriel's voice remained light and innocent. "I merely offered refreshment. Though I do wonder—if you've nothing to hide, why refuse a simple cup of tea?"
"Actually…" Lucia suddenly interjected, "I've heard of such detection teas before. If one truly has nothing to hide, drinking poses no risk whatsoever."
Her words hung in the air, the implication crystal clear.
Avril trembled with barely contained rage. If she refused to drink now, she'd essentially admit guilt. Yet if she drank and the tea changed color, the humiliation would be complete.
"I—I just remembered an urgent appointment," Avril stammered, backing toward the door. "I'll visit again when you're… more recovered."
With that transparent excuse, she fled, her entourage scurrying after her.
Once they'd gone, Martha burst into laughter. "Your Highness, that was brilliant! But was that detection spell actually real?"
"Of course not," Greenriel said with a smirk. "Just regular tea with a drop of blue dye. But a guilty conscience needs no accuser—she condemned herself."
It was a simple psychological trap, designed using her modern knowledge. In this world where magical artifacts were commonplace, people were surprisingly easy to deceive with the mere suggestion of magical detection.
"Your Highness has become so clever!" Martha said with genuine admiration.
Greenriel merely smiled. This morning's victory was just the opening act—the real performance would begin this afternoon.
At three o'clock sharp, the royal garden filled with nobility for the weekly tea gathering. This social cornerstone of court life drew virtually every prince, princess, and noble of consequence.
Greenriel arrived in a light blue silk gown that complemented her eyes perfectly. Her silver hair was elegantly coiled into a chignon, a moonstone pendant nestled at her throat. The effect was both regal and mysterious, drawing every eye in the garden.
"Good heavens, is that Princess Isabella?"
"When did she become so stunning?"
"Has she always carried herself with such grace?"
Whispers rippled through the gathering, nobles openly staring at this transformed princess.
Prince Adrian, holding court among a circle of young nobles, paused mid-sentence as he caught sight of her. The crown prince—with his golden hair, azure eyes, and chiseled features—embodied the perfect blend of royal dignity and knightly valor. As a prodigy in both light magic and swordsmanship, he was widely regarded as the empire's shining future.
"Isabella…" Adrian murmured, "she seems… different today."
"Indeed," agreed Princess Selina, standing at his elbow with her perpetual gentle smile. "Our sister seems utterly transformed after her ordeal."
Selina von Rosenblad, the second princess, wielded A-level water magic with effortless grace. Her long hair, the deep blue of tropical waters, framed a face of angelic sweetness—a perfect mask for the calculating mind behind it.
Through her prophecy, Greenriel knew Selina had already laced a teapot with Chaos Potion—a concoction that would induce hallucinations and slurred, nonsensical speech. The plan was to serve this to Isabella, ensuring she made a spectacle of herself before the entire court—especially Adrian.
"Sister Isabella!" Selina called warmly. "Come join us over here."
Greenriel glided over to find an exquisite tea service already arranged. Selina personally poured her a cup, the liquid releasing a fragrant aroma that couldn't quite mask the subtle magical disturbance Greenriel could now sense.
"How thoughtful, sister." She accepted the cup with a smile but made no move to drink.
"Not to your taste?" Selina asked, her concern perfectly feigned.
"No, it's just…" Greenriel hesitated deliberately, then lowered her voice. "I overheard the most disturbing rumor that someone might try to poison a princess at today's gathering. I'm being cautious."
Her words sent an immediate ripple of tension through the gathering.
"Poison?" Adrian's brow furrowed. "Who would dare such treachery?"
"I can't say if there's any truth to it," Greenriel said with wide-eyed innocence. "But perhaps, sister, you might taste it first? If you suffer no ill effects, I'll know my fears were groundless."
Selina's smile froze in place. That particular cup had been specially prepared for Isabella—if she drank it herself…
"This… how absurd! No one would dare poison anything at a royal gathering," she said with a forced laugh.
"Then surely one small sip wouldn't trouble you?" Greenriel pressed gently. "Just to set my mind at ease?"
The surrounding nobles watched with growing interest, awaiting Selina's response.
Selina found herself cornered. Refusal would confirm suspicions; drinking would mean suffering the effects of her own potion.
"If I may," a clear voice cut through the tension, "I can resolve this concern."
All eyes turned to see a young man in pristine white robes approaching. With chestnut hair and a scholarly demeanor, he carried an ornate staff that marked him as a court wizard.
"It's Wizard Evan!" someone exclaimed in recognition.
Evan de Alfred, the youngest court wizard in a century, hailed from an ancient magical lineage renowned for their detection and purification spells. His reputation for integrity was matched only by his rumored interest in Princess Isabella.
"Wizard Evan, how fortunate you're here," Greenriel said with a grateful smile.
Evan approached the table and tapped his staff lightly against the rim of the cup. Silver light flashed, spreading through the liquid like lightning.
"There is indeed a problem," he announced, his expression grave. "This tea contains a confusion potion that would cause severe hallucinations and incoherent speech."
Gasps erupted around the garden.
Selina's face drained of color. She'd never anticipated someone would actually test the drink.
"That's impossible! I clearly—" She caught herself mid-sentence, realizing her mistake too late.
"You clearly what?" Adrian's voice had turned to ice.
Selina realized her fatal error, her composure crumbling. "I—I didn't mean—I didn't do anything!"
"Then how did you know something was wrong with the tea?" Greenriel asked softly. "And why were you about to say 'I clearly added'? Quite specific, considering Wizard Evan only just identified it as a confusion potion."
"I said no such thing! You're twisting my words!" Selina cried, her voice rising with panic.
"If not you, then who?" Evan asked gravely. "This particular confusion potion requires advanced alchemical knowledge. Not many at court possess such skills."
Selina stood speechless. Her expertise in alchemy was common knowledge throughout the court.
Adrian fixed Selina with a look of profound disappointment. "Selina, I never thought you capable of such petty malice."
"Brother, please, I didn't—" Selina's protests died on her lips as she saw the judgment in everyone's eyes.
"Enough." Adrian cut her off with a sharp gesture. "Father will hear of this."
Knowing herself thoroughly exposed, Selina gathered her skirts and fled the garden, humiliation burning in her wake.
With Selina's departure, an awkward silence fell over the gathering. Adrian, however, approached Greenriel with purpose.
"Isabella, I must apologize for Selina's behavior," he said with genuine regret.
"You bear no responsibility for her actions," Greenriel replied softly. "I'm simply grateful we discovered the plot before anyone was harmed."
Adrian studied the young woman before him with new interest. This Isabella was nothing like the timid, forgettable girl he'd known—this woman radiated intelligence, elegance, and quiet strength.
"You seem… transformed," he said carefully.
"Near-death experiences have a way of clarifying one's perspective," she replied, meeting his gaze steadily. "I've learned that meekly accepting mistreatment isn't virtue—it's surrender."
Adrian nodded slowly. "A wise realization. Should you need any assistance in the future, my door is always open to you."
"Thank you, brother." Greenriel's smile was radiant.
Wizard Evan, who had been observing from nearby, approached them. "Princess Isabella, your instincts are remarkably sharp. Few would have suspected anything amiss."
"I owe you my gratitude, Wizard Evan. Without your intervention, I might have been dismissed as merely paranoid."
Evan's cheeks colored slightly. "The honor was entirely mine, Your Highness."
Noting how both men—each powerful and respected in his own right—now looked at her with newfound admiration, Greenriel felt a surge of satisfaction. This was how stories should unfold—demonstrate your worth, and the world reshapes itself around you.
That evening, the grand ballroom blazed with light as the monthly court ball commenced. This prestigious event drew nobility from across the empire and beyond its borders.
Greenriel made her entrance in a silver gown that caught the light with every movement, transforming her into a living embodiment of moonlight. Every head turned as she passed.
Yet while others admired her, her attention remained focused on identifying the assassins her vision had revealed. They would strike midway through the festivities, targeting King Reginald himself.
Reginald III cut an imposing figure—broad-shouldered and regal, with a golden beard streaked with silver and the same deep blue eyes he'd passed to his son. Though he'd shown little warmth toward Isabella, he was, by most measures, a fair ruler and decent father.
"Father, you seem in excellent spirits tonight," Greenriel said as she approached the king with a perfect curtsy.
"Isabella?" Reginald's surprise was evident. "You look… remarkably well. I've heard interesting reports about your conduct at today's tea party."
"Mere fortunate timing," she said modestly, then lowered her voice. "Father, I must express concern about security this evening."
"What troubles you?"
"I… experienced a disturbing dream last night—someone attempting to harm you during this very ball." She opted for the half-truth of a prophetic dream. "Though it may be nothing, I couldn't forgive myself if I remained silent."
Reginald's brow furrowed. Though he'd rarely given this daughter much consideration, the reports of her conduct today, combined with this unexpected concern, gave him pause.
"Did your dream reveal the nature of this threat?"
"Only fragments—someone making their move when you accept a drink," she replied carefully.
As if summoned by her words, a servant appeared with a goblet. "Your Majesty, the vintage you requested."
As Reginald reached for it, Greenriel's hand shot out. "Father, allow me to examine it first."
She channeled her newly restored light magic into the goblet. The liquid briefly glowed crimson—unmistakable evidence of deadly poison!
"Poison!" she cried out sharply.
Chaos erupted instantly. The servant, his plot exposed, abandoned subtlety and drew a concealed dagger, lunging for the king's heart. Greenriel, anticipating this very moment, conjured a shield of pure moonlight that deflected the blade.
"Assassin! Guards to the king!"
Royal guards converged from all directions, swords drawn as they surrounded the would-be killer.
"Isabella…" Reginald stared at his daughter in astonishment. "Your magic—when did it become so powerful?"
"I'm not entirely certain," she replied, feigning confusion. "Perhaps my recent brush with death somehow awakened dormant abilities."
Adrian pushed through the crowd to reach them. "Sister, how did you anticipate this attack?"
"I truly did have a prophetic dream," Greenriel said, allowing her voice to tremble slightly. "I saw Father in danger and couldn't dismiss it as mere fancy."
"Prophetic dream?" Reginald's eyes widened. "Isabella, you may have manifested prophetic magic."
Murmurs swept through the gathered nobility. Prophetic magic was among the rarest talents in the known world—a gift bestowed upon perhaps a dozen individuals throughout recorded history.
"If true, you represent an invaluable asset to our dynasty," Reginald declared, his voice carrying new respect. "Isabella, it seems I've misjudged you gravely."
Inwardly, Greenriel exulted. In one masterful stroke, she'd not only thwarted an assassination but secured a position of genuine value in her father's estimation.
After the ball concluded, Greenriel returned to her chambers, satisfaction warming her like fine wine.
In a single day, she'd outmaneuvered both her scheming sisters, captured the interest of two eligible bachelors, saved the king's life, and established her worth beyond question.
"So this is what it feels like to play life with cheat codes," she murmured, smiling at her reflection.
"Impressive performance, my princess." The familiar voice emerged from the shadows.
Lucas materialized from the darkness, amethyst eyes gleaming with approval.
"You were watching over me?" Greenriel asked.
"I promised I would," Lucas replied, moving closer. "Though I must admit, the brilliance and courage you displayed today exceeded even my expectations."
"I merely did what was necessary."
"Is that so?" Lucas reached out, his fingers brushing her cheek with feather-light touch. "Then perhaps a reward is in order…"
He bent down and captured her lips in a kiss both gentle and electric.
Heat flooded Greenriel's face as her heart hammered against her ribs.
"What—what kind of reward is that?!" She pushed him away, her face burning.
"Consider it an advance," Lucas replied with a wolfish smile. "When you grow stronger still… better rewards await."
With those tantalizing words, he melted back into the shadows.
Greenriel touched her tingling lips, emotions warring within her. This mysterious man… who was he really?
Whatever his true identity, her new life had only just begun. Those who had tormented her would reap what they'd sown. And she would rise to become the most brilliant star this world had ever witnessed.
Tomorrow would mark her first day at the Royal Magic Academy…
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