The Heir's Gambit

The coronation ball glittered with more diamonds than stars, and every smile hid a blade. Aria Nightshade moved through the crowd like a shadow given form, her gown of midnight silk drawing whispers from the assembled nobility.

"They're calling you the Dark Pretender," Marcus Vale murmured, appearing at her elbow with two glasses of champagne.

"Let them." Aria accepted a glass but didn't drink. "By morning, they'll call me something else."

"Your Majesty?"

Her smile was sharp enough to cut. "We'll see."

Across the ballroom, the current king raised his glass in a toast, unaware that the wine had been poisoned hours ago. Not with anything so crude as hemlock.

No, Aria had used something far more elegant: a magical compound that would make him tell the truth. Every dark secret, every buried crime, every betrayal.

By midnight, the kingdom would know exactly what kind of monster wore the crown.

And then they'd be begging for a new one.