Rebirth of the Phantom Empress

Chapter 14 – A Dance of Shadows

The crisp night air wrapped around Selene as she stepped into the dimly lit corridors of Lady Mirva's estate. The soft glow of distant torches flickered against the cold stone walls, casting long, shifting shadows as she moved. Each step she took was measured and careful, yet her heart pounded with the aftermath of the evening's events.

The banquet had gone exactly as she had planned.

Whispers of Lady Mirva's financial troubles had spread like wildfire, planting the seeds of doubt in the minds of the nobles. The spoiled wine had only further cemented their scepticism, a calculated blow to Mirva's carefully cultivated image of wealth and power.

But it wasn't enough.

Not yet.

Selene curled her fingers into the fabric of her skirt, steadying herself. She had struck a wound, but it was shallow. Lady Mirva was not the kind of woman to crumble so easily. No, she would recover, she would fight to regain her influence—and that was what made her dangerous.

Selene had to be smarter.

More patient.

This was only the beginning.

Yet, despite the night's victory, there was something else gnawing at the edges of her mind.

A presence she could not ignore.

Lord Kael Draven.

The way he had looked at her.

The weight of his gaze.

Even now, just thinking about it sent an involuntary shiver down her spine.

He knows.

No, not the truth—he did not know who she really was, not yet. But he had noticed her. And that was dangerous.

She had spent years perfecting the art of invisibility, moving through life as nothing more than a shadow. People only saw what she allowed them to see, and they dismissed her just as easily. It was her greatest weapon.

But tonight, for the first time in years—someone had seen her.

Noticed her.

And it was him.

Selene exhaled slowly, pressing a hand to her chest as she leaned against the cold stone wall. Her heart was still beating too fast. She needed to calm down. She could not allow herself to be shaken.

Lord Kael Draven was powerful, but he was not omniscient.

As long as she remained careful, he would not find anything.

And yet…

She could still hear his voice, deep and smooth, laced with something that unsettled her.

"Your name."

He hadn't asked. He had commanded.

And in that moment, she had nearly lied. She should have.

But she hadn't.

"Selene."

The way his lips had curved after hearing it—it wasn't a smile, not truly. But there had been something there, something that set her on edge.

Amusement? Interest? Or something far more dangerous?

She didn't know.

And that was the most terrifying part of all.

---

Lord Kael Draven – The Hunter's Interest

In the dim glow of his private chamber, Kael Draven sat in silence, lost in thought.

His fingers traced the rim of his untouched goblet, his silver eyes reflecting the flickering candlelight. The scent of wine lingered in the air, mingling with the distant sounds of the city beyond the estate's walls.

Tonight had been a waste of his time.

Lady Mirva's banquet had been nothing more than a parade of desperation. A failed attempt to lure investors with hollow grandeur.

He had known before stepping through those doors that her house was crumbling. The rumours had reached him long before he arrived in the city.

Still, he had gone.

Not for her.

Not for the fools grovelling for his attention.

But for a single moment.

A single encounter.

Selene.

His fingers stilled.

A simple name. Unassuming. Common.

And yet, it clung to his thoughts.

He leaned back in his chair, his mind replaying every moment of their brief interaction. The way she moved, the way she carried herself—it was too refined for a mere servant.

She was hiding something.

And Kael Draven did not ignore mysteries.

He had spent a lifetime unravelling them.

Selene.

He spoke the name aloud, testing its weight on his tongue.

It suited her.

A ghost of a smirk touched his lips.

He would find out who she was.

And why she had drawn his attention.

---

The Puppeteer's Fury – Lady Mirva's Wrath

The echo of shattering glass rang through the chamber.

Lady Mirva stood before her vanity, her breath ragged, fury twisting her delicate features into something unrecognizable.

Everything had gone wrong.

The whispers.

The laughter behind silk fans.

The spoiled wine.

She had seen the looks of pity from the nobles who once envied her. The way Lord Kael had barely acknowledged her before leaving.

Someone had sabotaged her.

Her grip tightened around the edge of the vanity, nails digging into the polished wood.

Someone in her household had done this.

And she would find them.

One by one, she would tear apart the threads of deceit until she uncovered the traitor hiding in her midst.

And when she did…

They would regret ever crossing her.

---

The Weight of Uncertainty

Selene curled up on the thin mattress in her servant's quarters, staring at the cracked ceiling above. The flickering candle on the rickety table beside her cast wavering shadows across the walls.

Her body ached from exhaustion, but her mind would not quiet.

Lord Kael Draven was watching her.

Lady Mirva was growing suspicious.

The game she was playing was becoming more dangerous by the day.

But still, she did not waver.

A quiet smile ghosted her lips.

She would not break.

Not yet.

Because the game had only just begun.

---

The Weight of Gossip – The Servants' Whispers

The kitchens were still bustling, even though the banquet had ended hours ago. The clatter of dishes, the scraping of knives against stubborn stains, and the scent of leftover wine filled the air. But the servants' hands worked more out of habit than urgency—because their minds were elsewhere.

Their mistress had been humiliated tonight.

"I thought Lady Mirva was going to faint when they brought out the spoiled wine," a kitchen boy whispered, his voice barely audible over the bubbling pots.

A scullery maid scoffed. "She wouldn't faint—she'd claw someone's eyes out first."

"She might do both," another muttered.

A tense silence followed.

They all knew someone would take the fall for tonight's disaster.

A laundress wrung out a damp cloth, glancing over her shoulder before speaking. "And Lord Kael Draven… did you see him? He barely acknowledged Lady Mirva."

"He was never going to, was he?" a footman muttered, stacking the last of the goblets. "A man like that—he doesn't waste his time."

"But he did waste his time," another countered, lowering her voice. "He stayed longer than expected. And you all saw it, didn't you?"

A hush fell over them.

Selene.

She had been there, moving through the banquet as a simple servant, but Lord Kael had noticed her.

Not in passing. Not idly.

He had seen her.

"She's always been quiet," one of the older maids murmured. "Knows how to keep her head down. But maybe she wasn't keeping it down enough tonight."

"What do you mean?" the scullery maid asked, gripping a wet plate.

"I mean," the older maid said slowly, "that Lady Mirva's looking for someone to blame."

And as they all knew too well, in this household, once Lady Mirva set her sights on someone…

That person rarely came out unscathed.

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