Then—
"She... she caught it..." someone finally whispered into the stillness.
The words broke the spell, unleashing a wave of frantic mutters.
"What?"
"With her bare hand?!"
"That was a high-velocity assassin’s arrow!"
"She moved before the Imperial Guards even reacted!"
"Just who on earth is that woman?"
The ballroom erupted. Nobles stumbled backward in panic, their earlier curiosity replaced by sheer unease. Several knights instinctively drew their steel, unsure whether they were looking at a savior... or another monster.
Princess Hazel stood frozen a few feet away, her mouth slightly open as she stared at Rosearia. The unknown commoner she had tried to humiliate moments ago had just caught a lethal projectile meant for the Crown Prince’s throat.
Even Emperor Rhysand’s face had hardened into stone.
However, the person watching closest didn’t speak a word.
Empress Giana remained seated beside the Emperor. She hadn’t flinched when the arrow flew, nor when it was caught. Her dark, reptilian eyes were fixed entirely on Rosearia — not on her bloodied hand, not on the steel arrowhead.
Her eyes.
The Empress slowly narrowed her gaze. She had tracked the entire sequence. The fraction of a second the bowstring twanged in the vaulted gallery, Rosearia had already pivoted toward the trajectory.
That wasn’t luck. That was raw, honed instinct.
Giana’s gaze flicked briefly toward her stepson, then back to Rosearia. A faint crease appeared between her dark brows.
"Who exactly did you bring into my palace, Adrian?"
Rosearia felt the suffocating weight of that stare. Her eyes flickered toward the imperial platform, and for one sharp second, their gazes locked.
The Empress’s expression remained a mask of regal composure, but Rosearia caught the glint behind it.
Suspicion. Cold, calculating suspicion.
Rosearia’s fingers tightened around the shaft of the arrow, the steel digging into her skin.
Wonderful. Another high-tier threat just put me on her list.
Before the Empress could dissect her further, a broad shadow blocked her view.
Adrian stepped directly between them. "Are you hurt?"
His voice was the first thing Rosearia truly registered over the ringing in her ears. She looked down at her right hand. A thin line of blood ran across her knuckles, dripping steadily onto the marble floor.
Oh. So I’m bleeding. How inconvenient.
Adrian immediately reached out, taking her wrist with surprising swiftness. His dark eyebrows pulled into a tight frown as he inspected the wound.
"You caught it," he said, his tone dangerously quiet.
"Yes."
"With your bare hand."
"Yes."
"Why?"
She looked up at him as though the question made no sense. "It was flying toward your chest."
"But I didn’t."
"That is not the point!" His voice cracked with rare anger, though his fingers softened as he carefully turned her blood-stained palm upward. "You should have ducked."
"And let it pierce your heart?"
"Yes."
Rosearia stared at him. Adrian stared right back, his icy-blue eyes ablaze with an unreadable storm.
Then, like a cold splash of water, a frantic thought hit her.
Right. I’m supposed to be a helpless, fragile amnesiac.
Her posture instantly crumpled. Her lower lip trembled, and moisture gathered at the edges of her eyes. She pulled her hand back with a faint gasp. "I..." Her voice softened into a frightened whisper. "It... it hurts."
Adrian froze, his anger evaporating into panic. "What?"
Rosearia winced, cradling her wrist. "It hurts so much..."
A few feet away, Aldric looked at her. Then at the blood on her hand. Then back at her face. One of his eyebrows slowly rose.
"That was quite the dramatic shift," he murmured.
Rosearia shot him a wounded, tearful look. "What do you mean?"
"You caught a high-velocity assassin’s arrow without so much as blinking," Aldric noted, stepping closer. "Yet now you look like a trampled lily."
"I was terrified!"
"You didn’t look terrified."
"I was deeply terrified on the inside!"
Aldric’s lips twitched as he fought back a smirk. "Were you really?"
Rosearia nodded vigorously, sniffling. "Yes."
Before Aldric could push her further—
"SEAL THE BALLROOM!"
The Emperor’s thunderous voice echoed off the vaulted ceiling, instantly shattering the shock in the room.
BOOM!
The massive oak doors slammed shut. Heavy iron bars dropped into place. Dozens of Imperial Knights poured into the hall with drawn steel.
"Protect His Highness!"
"Secure the balconies!"
"No one leaves!"
The ballroom descended into pure chaos. Aristocrats screamed, shoving past one another to reach their personal guards. The orchestra fled, knocking over golden harps and music stands. Within seconds, the high-society ball had become a claustrophobic warzone.
Adrian stepped directly in front of Rosearia, shielding her with his body. "Stay behind me."
Rosearia stared at his broad back. "He really does have an instinct for protecting people, doesn’t he?"
Obediently, she took a step back. But her eyes didn’t stay lowered. She scanned the room, her gaze sweeping upward to the vaulted gallery.
A shadow shifted behind one of the marble pillars.
Rosearia’s pupils contracted. "There." Not a guard. Not a fleeing noble.
An assassin.
He turned instantly. "What is it?"
SHING!
A blade tore through the air.
But this time, it wasn’t aimed at the Crown Prince. It was hurtling straight for Princess Hazel.
The Suncrest Princess stood completely frozen in the center of the hall, her eyes wide with unseeing terror. She didn’t even realize she was the target.
Rosearia moved.
"Get down!"
She sprinted forward, her body blurring past two panicked lords, grabbed Hazel by the waist, and yanked the royal violently to the side.
THWACK!
A heavy throwing dagger sliced clean through the silk of Hazel’s golden sleeve, embedding itself deep into the stone pillar behind her.
Hazel stared at the vibrating hilt, the color draining from her face until she was ghostly pale. "I... you..."
Rosearia shoved the princess behind her. "Stay down."
"You just saved—"
"I said, do not move!" The absolute authority in Rosearia’s voice shocked Hazel into instant silence. She collapsed to her knees, nodding dumbly.
THUD. THUD. THUD.
Three masked figures clad in dark leather dropped from the upper balconies, landing in the center of the hall.
"ASSASSINS!" someone shrieked.
The first attacker charged Adrian. The second hurled himself at the Emperor’s royal guard. The third came directly for Rosearia.
She sighed internally. "Of course. Why would anything tonight be simple?"
The assassin lunged, swinging a curved shortsword. Rosearia ducked smoothly beneath the arc, the wind of the blade ruffling her hair. She stepped inside his guard, her hand snapping up to seize his wrist.
Twist.
The man grunted as his joint popped. Rosearia drove her heel into the side of his knee, forcing him to stumble, and smoothly unsheathed a longsword from the belt of a fallen knight beside her.
The moment her fingers wrapped around the leather hilt, something deep inside her soul clicked into place.
The screaming crowd vanished. The world slowed to a crawl. She could see the air currents. The weight distribution of her enemy’s stance. Every fatal opening in his armor.
The assassin lunged again.
CLANG!
Rosearia parried effortlessly. He slashed left; she blocked. He drove a thrust toward her throat; she stepped off-axis with liquid grace.
Then, she counterattacked.
Strike. Slice. Thrust.
Steel cut through leather. The assassin gasped, stumbling backward as blood bloomed across his chest. Rosearia pressed the advantage, her blade moving like a silver whip. With a final, brutal flick of her wrist, she sent his shortsword spinning across the marble floor.
The assassin froze, staring at her in absolute shock.
Rosearia stood motionless, the tip of her sword resting lightly against the pulse point under his chin.
Silence fell over their immediate circle.
Rosearia blinked, her heart sinking as she looked around. Dozens of nobles were staring at her, their mouths agape. Even the guards had stopped to watch.
Oh no.
I did way too much.