Chapter 2

ROSALIA

I sat in the dim light of the cell, my hands trembling as I clutched the cold iron bars, gazing out into the faint shadows dancing beyond. I turned to my mother, my eyes wide with the terror that had silently taken root. "Mother, was I... was I born a slave?"

Mother's face stiffened, the composure she so often held splintering. In an instant, she was at my side, pressing a hand over my mouth. Her gaze darted to the thick stone walls, as though they held secrets or harbored spies. "The walls have ears," she hissed, her voice barely a breath. "Keep your voice down, child."

The words struck me with a quiet, dreadful certainty. Mother's silence spoke more than any answer could. My chest tightened, the truth sinking in with a cruel, relentless weight. Tears gathered, silent, betraying my mounting despair. "That's treason," I whispered, my voice cracking. "They'll kill us all for it."

"No one is going to die," Mother whispered fiercely, her fingers lifting to smooth the stray locks from my damp cheeks. "If there's no proof, they can't touch us. This will pass, like all the other scandals, soon enough." She tried to smile, lifting my chin, a tremor betraying the calm she so desperately tried to convey. "Next season, this will all be forgotten."

My gaze held steady, unyielding. "This isn't like other scandals, Mother," I murmured. My fingers gripped hers, colder than the iron bars around us. "I saw one of the guards with a record, a list of names. They're keeping track. They know more than they're letting on."

Mother's smile faltered for a heartbeat, but she forced it back, her voice soothing yet brittle. "It will be fine," she whispered, almost as if saying it enough times would make it true. "You'll be out soon, and then you'll debut as the season's diamond, just as we planned."

My fingers slipped from Mother's grasp. I turned away, my eyes hollow with disbelief. "No scandal could ever beat treason," I whispered, more to myself than to her. I forced my gaze away, my voice laced with bitterness. "And just when I'm about to debut. If we even survive this..." My shoulders sagged, the strength slipping from my limbs as I sank to the floor, the weight of the truth settling over me like a shroud.

After a long, trembling silence, I finally looked up, my voice a broken whisper. "Am I truly slave-born?"

Mother's face tightened, the faint tremor of old wounds rippling through her gaze. "I am no slave," she replied, her tone laced with defiance. "I am free."

"Because Father bought your freedom?" My words pierced the silence, sharp and unyielding. "Is that what they'll call a cardinal sin?"

Mother's composure shattered. She knelt, gripping my shoulders, her voice low and fierce. "Your father did what he had to. He couldn't marry me while I was still bound. He fought for us, risked everything to keep us safe. And he will do what is necessary again."

My brow creased, confusion swirling with the desperation that edged my words. "I don't understand, Mother. Pa and Ma... they're not commoners."

Mother's gaze flickered, a flash of something vulnerable breaking through. She leaned in close, her voice barely a whisper. "Pa and Ma aren't my blood. When their estate was crumbling, when they were drowning in debt and faced disgrace, your father saved them. In return, they gave me their name, a name that could protect us both."

My mouth parted, a dozen unspoken questions shimmering in my gaze. My mind raced, grasping at each piece of the story, each hidden truth. "And if they're called to testify?" I asked, my voice raw, laced with both fear and faint hope. "Will they stand by us?"

Mother's lips pressed into a thin line, her gaze hardening. "They owe us everything," she whispered, a cold certainty in her tone.

Before another word could pass between us, the sound of iron clanging against the bars echoed through the stone walls. I flinched, Mother's hand instinctively reaching for me, shielding me like a lioness guarding her young.

The guard smirked, slapping his baton against the bars once more, his voice dripping with scorn. "The royal court is ready to judge you... traitors."

The iron door of the cage screeched open, and rough hands pulled Mother and me to our feet, shackling our wrists with cold, unyielding chains. The clinking metal reverberated in the hollow silence, heavy and foreboding. I stole a glance at Mother, whose face was a mask of determination, every line etched with an unspoken promise of survival.

They marched us down a stone corridor, dim and damp, where the scent of mildew mingled with the cold morning air. Just outside the grand entrance of the royal court, I caught sight of Father, Lord Muller, and my younger brother, whose face was a mix of fear and defiance. Father stood tall, his gaze unwavering as he met my eyes, a slight nod all he offered. I could see the weight of responsibility in his eyes, a silent promise that we would get through this—somehow.

A guard shouted, announcing our arrival. The enormous doors, carved with the intricate emblems of Stonefell's lineage, swung open, revealing the court's interior—a vast hall where power hung heavy in the air, silent and oppressive. Golden light streamed through stained-glass windows, casting the figures on the throne dais in a halo of colors. At the center sat the King, his gaze cool and imperious, with the Queen beside him, her face a veil of detached scrutiny. The Crown Prince stood a little behind them, his expression unreadable, a faint glimmer of interest in his dark eyes as he observed us prisoners.

We were shoved forward, and I stumbled, barely managing to catch my footing. I straightened, refusing to let myself appear weak in front of the court. My family stood in a row, chained and accused, as the Speaker's voice filled the silence.

"Before you stands Lord Muller and his family, charged with high treason against the Kingdom of Stonefell."

The King leaned forward slightly, his fingers tapping the arm of his throne, his voice low and commanding. "What accusations do they face?"

The head officer stepped forward, his polished armor gleaming in the sunlight, his tone filled with a practiced arrogance. "Your Majesty, it has come to our knowledge that Lord Muller purchased the freedom of his wife, who was once a slave. Not only did he present her as a freeborn, but he paraded her as a noble, deceiving the kingdom and tainting the nobility with falsehood." He paused, gesturing to a guard holding a collection of documents bound in leather. "These documents, salvaged from Lord Muller's study, serve as evidence of his deceit."

The guard approached the dais, presenting the documents to the King. His Majesty flipped through the pages, his expression unchanging, though his brow furrowed slightly as he examined each record. Finally, he looked up, his eyes sharp as they settled on my father.

"How do you plead, Lord Muller?"

Father lifted his chin, a faint smile playing on his lips, though I caught the strain beneath his facade. "Your Majesty," he began, his voice steady, "these accusations are nothing but the machinations of those who wish to see House Muller fall. My wife... she is no slave. She is the daughter of House Calderon—a truth known and accepted by all present here." His gaze swept over the gathered nobles, a spark of defiance flickering in his eyes.

My heart clenched, recognizing the lie beneath his words. I felt the chill of fear sink deeper; Father was weaving a story that could so easily unravel if the court dared to look closely enough.

The head officer's lips curled in a smirk, barely concealed. He took a step forward, addressing Father with a gleam of triumph. "About that, Lord Muller..." He turned to the guards stationed at the entrance, gesturing with a nod. "Bring them in."

A murmur rippled through the court as the doors creaked open once more, revealing a pair of figures standing in the threshold.

My heart stopped when I saw who stood in the doorway—Lady and Lord Calderon, my supposed grandparents. They stepped forward, their heads bowed in practiced humility.

The King broke the tense silence. "Lord Calderon, before Stonefell and me, tell us, if Aurora Calderon is your daughter."

"Your Majesty," Lord Calderon began, his voice trembling with what I now recognized as rehearsed remorse. "Aurora is no daughter of ours!'

"Papa!" My mother choked out, fear clouding her features.

"Do not call him that!" I heard Grandma spit. It was the same kind of venom she had for the lazy indentured in her quarters.

Grandfather or whoever the man was continued to speak. "We were forced into this deception by Lord Muller. Every day we lived in fear, until my dear wife finally found the courage to confess. At last, our conscience can be free."

Grandma exposed us?

They both sank into deep bows before the throne. "We beg forgiveness for our part in this lie against the Kingdom," Lady Calderon added, her voice thick with false tears. "We will accept any punishment deemed fitting."

Father's face contorted with rage as he watched our supposed allies abandon us to save their own necks. "You cowards!" he exploded, lurching forward against his chains. "After everything I did for you—"

The guards grabbed him roughly, forcing him still, but his outburst had already done its damage. The King's eyes narrowed. "So you lied, Lord Muller?"

I watched as all fight drained from Father's body. He sank to his knees, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "I deserve death for my crimes," he confessed, his voice hollow. "But my family... they did nothing wrong. I forced my wife into this relationship. I kept the truth from my children. They are innocent in this."

The Queen's voice cut through the hall like ice. "The slave-born knew right from wrong, yet she chose to enjoy privilege. She chose to birth abominations and turn the system of Stonefell to dust beneath their feet." Her lips curled in disgust. "They deserve nothing but death."

I saw something change in Father's eyes at the Queen's words—a flash of recognition, of old wounds. "You would like that, wouldn't you, Eloise?"

The words had barely left his mouth before a guard's boot connected with his stomach. "How dare you address Her Majesty by name, traitor!"

The King rose from his throne, fury radiating from every movement as he descended the steps. He stopped before Father, pointing a finger at his ring. "Kiss it," he commanded, voice tight with rage.

Tears streamed down Father's face as he begged, "Your Majesty, please... have mercy on my children."

"That possibility vanished the moment you disrespected the Queen of this nation." The King's voice was steel. "Kiss. The. Ring."

I watched, horror-struck, as Father was forced to press his lips to the royal seal. The King withdrew his hand as if touched by something foul.

"Death," he pronounced, each word falling like a hammer blow. "House Muller has chosen death. They will fall and be forgotten." His voice rose, filling the vast chamber. "For crimes against this kingdom, all four will hang, and the estates and titles of anyone who carries their blood will be taken. I have spoken and that is—"

"Your Majesty, wait."

The Crown Prince's voice cut through the sentence like a blade through silk, and every head in the court turned toward him.