The morning sun filtered through the grand windows of the royal dining hall, casting long beams of light across the polished floors. The room was alive with the clinking of silverware and murmured conversations among the nobles. Anya entered hesitantly, her heart still heavy from the revelations of the night before.
Celia sat at the head of the table, her posture regal and poised as always. Her golden hair caught the sunlight, and she looked every bit the future queen. Beside her sat Margaret, the second sister, her sharp eyes darting around the room, ever the observer.
Anya took her seat near the end of the table, keeping her distance. She hadn't spoken to Celia or Margaret since discovering the truth, and now the weight of it pressed down on her chest. She glanced at her sisters, wondering if they knew what she knew.
Celia noticed her immediately. "You're late," she said, her tone gentle but firm. "Mother doesn't like tardiness, Anya."
Anya bristled but held her tongue. She wasn't in the mood for another lecture on royal propriety.
Margaret raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a sly smile. "You look like you've seen a ghost, Anya. Did you sneak out again last night?"
Anya stiffened, her hands gripping the edge of the table. "I didn't sleep well, that's all."
Celia set down her teacup, her piercing blue eyes locking onto Anya's. "You've been acting strange lately. Is something wrong?"
The question hung in the air, heavy and charged. Anya hesitated, torn between wanting to confront Celia with the truth and fearing the consequences.
"I'm fine," she said finally, her voice tight.
Margaret wasn't convinced. She leaned forward, her expression curious. "You're a terrible liar, Anya. Come on, spill it. Did Mother scold you again? Or is it something juicier?"
Anya's gaze flicked between her sisters, her resolve wavering. She couldn't keep this to herself much longer.
"Celia," she said quietly, her voice trembling. "Can I speak with you? Alone?"
Margaret's eyebrows shot up in surprise, but Celia nodded, her expression softening. "Of course."
Margaret leaned back in her chair, clearly annoyed. "Oh, come on. Don't leave me out. If this is another one of Anya's secrets, I have to know."
"It's not for you to know," Anya snapped, surprising even herself with the sharpness of her tone.
Margaret's smile faded, replaced by a glare. "Fine. Be mysterious. But don't come crying to me when it all goes wrong."
Celia stood, her calm demeanor unshaken. "Margaret, leave her be. Anya, let's go."
---
The Confrontation with Celia
The two sisters walked in silence until they reached the solarium, a quiet place filled with vibrant flowers and soft sunlight. Celia closed the door behind them and turned to face Anya, her expression a mix of concern and curiosity.
"What's going on, Anya?" Celia asked. "You've been on edge for days."
Anya hesitated, the words catching in her throat. How could she tell Celia the truth without breaking her heart? But then she remembered Leila's words: "If you're serious about this, you need allies."
Taking a deep breath, Anya began. "Celia, there's something I found out. Something about you. About us."
Celia's brow furrowed, but she stayed silent, waiting for Anya to continue.
"Mother told me last night," Anya said, her voice barely above a whisper. "About the shadow. About the pact."
Celia's face paled, her composure slipping for the first time. "The shadow?"
Anya nodded, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "It's you, Celia. The pact demands you."
Celia stumbled back, her hand gripping the edge of a nearby table for support. "No... that can't be. Mother wouldn't—she would've told me."
"She didn't want to tell me either," Anya said, stepping closer. "But I found the letter. I know the truth, Celia. And I won't let it happen. I'll find another way, even if it means breaking the pact myself."
Celia's breathing was shallow, her eyes darting around the room as if searching for an escape. "You don't understand, Anya. If the pact is broken, it could destroy the entire kingdom."
"And if it's upheld, we'll lose you," Anya shot back, her voice cracking. "I can't accept that, Celia. I won't."
The two sisters stared at each other, the weight of their unspoken fears hanging heavily between them.
After a long pause, Celia sighed, her shoulders slumping. "We need to talk to Margaret. She needs to know too."
"Margaret?" Anya asked, surprised. "Why?"
"Because she's smarter than both of us combined," Celia said with a faint, bitter smile. "And if there's anyone who can think of a solution, it's her."
Anya hesitated, but finally nodded. "Fine. But we need to move quickly. The shadow won't wait."
-
---
The sisters found Margaret in the library, her sanctuary among the towering shelves of ancient books. She was seated at the grand oak desk, scribbling notes on a parchment, her usual air of calm concentration undisturbed.
When she noticed Anya and Celia, she set down her quill, her sharp gaze flickering between them. "Both of you, here at once? What's happened now?"
Celia wasted no time, shutting the heavy door behind them and stepping forward. "We need to talk, Margaret. It's about the pact."
Margaret's expression faltered for a brief moment, but she quickly masked it with her usual composed demeanor. "The pact? What do you mean?"
Anya stepped closer, her voice trembling. "I know about it, Margaret. The pact with the shadow. Mother told me last night after I confronted her… and I've already spoken to Leila."
Margaret's eyes narrowed, her lips pressing into a thin line. "Leila? Why involve her in this?"
"Because she's family," Anya said firmly. "And she has a right to know. She already suspected something was wrong, and she's been helping me think through our options."
Margaret rose from her seat, pacing to the window. "And what brilliant 'options' has she come up with? Or are you both planning to storm into the shadow's domain with swords blazing?"
"Stop it, Margaret," Celia said sharply, her usual calm giving way to frustration. "This isn't a joke. You're the second in line, and if something happens to me…"
Margaret turned, her expression softening slightly. "If something happens to you, I'll do my duty. But you're not gone yet, Celia. So let's not start burying you alive."
Anya took a step forward, her voice rising with emotion. "It doesn't have to come to that! We can find another way—Leila agrees. We just need to work together."
Margaret studied her younger sister, her piercing gaze searching for cracks in Anya's resolve. "You really believe we can outwit the shadow? That centuries of tradition and magic can be undone by three sisters and a cousin?"
"I believe we have to try," Anya said, her voice firm. "If we don't, Celia is lost. And this kingdom… it'll be cursed forever."
Margaret sighed, rubbing her temples. "You've dragged Leila into this, and now you've dragged me. Fine. But we need a plan—a real one. Not hope and desperation."
Celia stepped closer, her voice steady but tinged with urgency. "We'll figure it out. Together. But we can't delay. The shadow won't wait, and the court is already restless."
Margaret nodded reluctantly. "All right. But if we're doing this, we need to be smart. No more secrets. No more impulsive moves, Anya."
Anya bristled but nodded. "Agreed."
Margaret's lips curled into a faint smile, though her eyes remained wary. "Good. Now, let's get to work. I assume you've already told Leila everything?"
"Yes," Anya said. "And she's with us. We're not alone in this, Margaret."
"For all our sakes," Margaret muttered, "I hope you're right."
---