Crimson Rose Queen

(The Gown That Shook the Empire)

Nurse Margaret gasped when I emerged in the remodeled gown—silk slashed to the thigh, neckline plunging to obscenity. "My lady! The Prince of Astoria will be—"

"Perfect," I smirked at my reflection. Let Sebastian choke on his hypocrisy.

The palanquin ride to Dragon's Keep was a blur. Then—his voice, sharp with irritation: "Has the Empress arrived?"

I stepped out, relishing the way his pupils dilated. "Miss me, Your Royal Grumpiness?"

Sebastian's jaw clenched. "You dare wear this... this scandal before foreign royalty?"

"Relax," I purred. "Private parties need spice. Consider this my... diplomatic contribution."

The veins in his neck throbbed. "You—"

A herald interrupted: "Lord Ethan Cross, Minister of Revenue!"

Ethan? My blood froze.

The man who strode forward had his face, his smile. But the eyes... cold as winter steel.

Sebastian clapped him on the shoulder. "My dearest friend."

Bile rose in my throat. His dearest friend, who assaulted me.

(The Prince of Melodies)

Inside the hall, music wove through the air like liquid starlight. At the grand piano sat a figure haloed in candlelight—Prince Damien of Astoria, his emerald eyes lifting to meet mine.

Our gazes locked.

Something shifted.

His fingers stilled on the keys. "Do you enjoy my playing, Empress?"

The voice—honey and smoke—sent shivers down my spine. "I've never heard anything so... alive."

A smile curved his lips. "Then allow me to play your soul."

Sebastian's growl shattered the moment. "Eleanor. Step. Away. From. Him."

I twined my arm through Damien's instead. "Make me."