Seraphina’s POV

The moment I hung up the phone with Electra, the voice of the announcer filled the hall, signaling the beginning of the evening’s performance.

The atmosphere shifted almost instantly—all the loud talking dulled to a murmur, and all eyes turned toward the center of the room where a beautifully decorated stage awaited.

I didn’t have time to dwell on my conversation with Electra or the mysterious Hunter Vale. Instead, my mind latched on to the word performance, and an idea that had suddenly come to mind.

I’d been racking my brain for a way to steal the spotlight from Queen Jella ever since I arrived, and this was my chance. The performance was the perfect opportunity.

Taking a deep breath, I straightened my shoulders and walked toward the head of the table where Queen Jella sat, surrounded by other nobles and advisors.

The closer I got, the more noticeable her expression became. The once-pleasant smile she’d been offering the guests evaporated the moment her eyes landed on me. Her lips thinned, and her gaze turned sharp as though she were assessing me.

She hated me—well, hated Electra—and I didn’t need to have spent years in this world to see it.

I ignored the tightening in my chest and reminded myself of what Electra had told me earlier. Queen Jella didn’t like to share attention, and since she already despised me, there was nothing to lose by provoking her further.

When I reached the head of the table, I paused, making sure all eyes were on me. Clearing my throat, I tilted my chin upward, channeling every ounce of confidence I imagined Electra Vale would have.

“Your Majesty,” I said, my voice calm but not overly loud. “With your permission, I’d like to perform for the court this evening.”

The entire room fell silent. Conversations ceased, and heads turned to look at me with expressions ranging from curiosity to outright disbelief. I could feel about a hundred pairs of eyes on me, but I forced myself to ignore them.

Queen Jella’s expression didn’t change. Her lips curled into a mocking smirk, her eyes narrowing in challenge. “Perform?” she repeated, her voice dripping with condescension. “I wasn’t aware you were a performer, dear.”

I felt a flare of irritation at her tone but didn’t let it show. “There’s a lot about me you don’t know, Your Majesty,” I replied smoothly, meeting her gaze without flinching. “But I assure you, I’m more than capable of entertaining your guests.”

A murmur broke through the crowd, and I could see some of the nobles exchanging whispers and raised eyebrows. I knew what they were thinking—the crown princess of Elmeria, lowering herself to perform? It was outrageous, but that was precisely the reaction I was aiming for.

Queen Jella leaned back in her chair, her smirk growing. “Very well,” she said after a moment, her voice laced with false sweetness. “If you’re so confident, who am I to deny you? The stage is yours.”

Her tone made it clear she expected me to fail, but I wasn’t about to give her the satisfaction.

Bowing my head slightly in acknowledgment, I turned and made my way to the stage. My heart pounded in my chest, but I refused to let my nerves show.

I climbed the steps to the stage, and the bright lights above the hall blinded me for a moment, but I focused on the piano at the center of the stage.

I hadn’t touched a piano in years—not since my real mother passed away. She had been my teacher, my audience, and my biggest supporter, and after she was gone, it had felt wrong to play without her.

But now, standing here in front of an audience of royals and nobles, I had no choice. This wasn’t just about showing Queen Jella up or stealing the spotlight; it was also about proving to myself that I could still do this after years of neglecting the one thing my mother taught me.

As I sat down on the piano bench, the room fell silent, and my hands hovered over the keys, trembling slightly, but I took a deep breath and steadied myself.

Then, as if on instinct, my eyes found Queen Jella. Her lips were curled into a subtle, smug smile, and her eyes glinted with amusement.

The sight of her expression ignited something in me, and my nerves immediately melted away. Now, I wasn’t just doing this to entertain or impress—I was doing this to wipe that smirk off her face.

My fingers pressed the keys, and the first notes of my mother’s favorite tune, “Eclipsed Reverie,” echoed through the room.

The beginning was hesitant, but as I eased into it, something shifted. I poured everything I had into the tune—the grief I had never truly expressed and the frustration of being thrown into this impossible situation.

The room was utterly silent, except for the music, and when I dared to glance up at the crowd, I saw their faces—wide eyes, parted lips, expressions of awe. Even Queen Jella, who I had expected to remain indifferent, looked completely taken aback.

Her smug smile was gone, replaced by a stunned, horrified expression as if she couldn’t believe what she was witnessing.

That was all the encouragement I needed.

By the time I reached the final note, my hands were shaking, and I was out of breath as though I had run a marathon. The room was so quiet at first, and then the applause came.

It started as a few hesitant claps from the back of the room but quickly switched into a roaring ovation. People were on their feet, clapping and cheering, their faces filled with admiration. I sat there, frozen, unsure how to process what was happening.

When I finally stood and turned to face the crowd, I caught Queen Jella’s gaze again. She was still seated, her hands resting on the table, her face unreadable, but her eyes—they betrayed her.

I inclined my head slightly in her direction, a small, almost imperceptible gesture of acknowledgment. The corners of my lips twitched into a faint smile, one that I hoped conveyed exactly what I was thinking: *I just won, and you know it.*

The applause followed me as I came down from the stage. My heart was still pounding from the performance, but I kept my expression calm and composed, my lips curved into a polite smile.

“Absolutely stunning, Your Highness,” one older woman said, attempting to take my hand, but I made sure to avoid it. “I never imagined you could play with such grace. The princess truly has many hidden talents.”

“Thank you,” I replied, almost having the urge to smile widely at her, but I refrained myself.

“You were magnificent,” said another guest, a younger man with an eager smile. “And you looked very beautiful too.”

“That’s very kind of you,” I answered smoothly, keeping the conversation brief before moving on.

The compliments just kept coming, and while I appreciated them, I didn’t linger too long with any one person. My focus was set on returning to the head of the table. This was the moment Electra had warned me about—the moment I would see the Queen’s true nature.

Would she lash out at me here, in front of her guests, or would she, like a reasonable human being, just wait until we were in private to voice her displeasure?

As I approached her, I kept my expression neutral, though I couldn’t ignore the way my nerves prickled at the base of my neck. Her gaze was locked on mine, and her lips curved into a slow smile, but it wasn’t the warm, proud smile of a mother; it was something colder, something calculated.

“Your Majesty,” I said, not bothering to bow when I reached her.

She got up from her seat, her hands lightly clapping in what appeared to be genuine applause. “What a performance,” she said. “Truly remarkable. My daughter continues to surprise me.”

I blinked, momentarily caught off guard. This wasn’t the reaction I had anticipated.

Before I could respond, she stepped closer and, to my utter shock, pulled me into an unexpected hug. It wasn’t a warm hug—her hands barely touched me, and the gesture felt more like a performance for the audience than any genuine display of affection.

“You’ve outdone yourself tonight, Seraphina,” she murmured, but then, as her lips barely brushed my ear, her tone shifted, dark and furious . “But you’ll regret it, child.”

When she pulled back, her smile was as radiant as ever, and she continued to applaud like she didn’t just threaten me. “Truly remarkable,” she said, her voice loud enough for the guests to hear. “You’ve truly made this evening unforgettable.”

I managed a smile in return, doing my best to pretend like she and I were having a normal conversation, even though my mind was spinning, and I couldn’t help but wonder what in the world she intended to do to me.

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