Balls were supposed to be grand, elegant affairs.



A night of glittering gowns, charming dances, and whispered courtships under chandeliers.



So why was I currently hiding behind a massive ice sculpture of a swan like some criminal?



Right. Because this was a trap.



The royal palace was hosting a grand ball, officially meant to "restore harmony" between the King and the nobles.



Unofficially? It was an opportunity for backstabbing, secret alliances, and a whole lot of fake smiles.



Everyone important would be here, including the rebellion's key players.



And I?



I was not invited.



Which is exactly why I snuck in.



Cassian would have definitely stopped me if he knew, and Adrian would have been torn between helping and dragging me back by the scruff of my neck. So, I took matters into my own hands.



The plan? Simple. Disguise myself as a servant, sneak in, gather intel, and escape before anyone noticed.



Reality? Not so simple.



First of all, I hated corsets.



I hadn't worn one in so long that shoving myself into a borrowed maid's uniform felt like cramming bread dough into a sausage casing.



Second, I had definitely overestimated my ability to walk gracefully with a heavy silver tray.



"Ow, ow, OW—" I hissed as I wobbled, balancing seven glasses of wine on a platter. Who even ordered this much wine?!



The noblemen around me continued their conversations, their laughter echoing under the golden chandeliers.



A passing butler shot me a weird look.



I quickly faked a polite smile. "Evening, sir. Lovely ball, isn't it?"



He narrowed his eyes.



I panicked. "I love your shoes."



He walked away without another word.



Great. Now he definitely thinks I'm insane.



I carefully navigated the ballroom, trying not to trip as I subtly listened in on whispered conversations.



What I overheard was much worse than I expected.



This wasn't just a gathering of nobles venting about the King.



They were talking about who should replace him.



And the name being whispered the most?



Marquis Reynard.



My stomach twisted.



Reynard.



A nobleman who had once supported the King. A man who had always been polite to me—one of the few nobles who never treated me like dirt.



I had actually liked him.



And now he was plotting treason.



I was so stunned by the revelation that I barely noticed when someone grabbed my arm.



...Until I turned and came face-to-face with the King.



"You must have a death wish," the King muttered as he dragged me out of the ballroom.



"Good to see you too, Your Majesty," I wheezed, struggling against his iron grip.



"Do you even understand how many ways you could have died tonight?"



"Well, I managed to avoid tripping on my dress, so I'd say I'm doing great."



The King did not look amused.



Instead of letting me go, he pulled me into a private corridor.



The candlelight flickered against his sharp features. His golden eyes locked onto mine, unreadable.



He stepped closer. "What were you thinking, sneaking into the most dangerous event of the year?"



I swallowed. "Gathering information?"



His expression darkened. "And what, pray tell, did you learn?"



I hesitated.



Then, finally, I muttered, "Marquis Reynard."



The King stilled.



His hands clenched at his sides.



"...I see," he said, voice unnervingly quiet.



For the first time, I saw real fury in his gaze.



This wasn't just about politics.



This was personal.



The betrayal ran deep.



And now?



The rebellion was no longer just a game.