The tension in the court was palpable. Whispers and side glances filled the grand halls as nobles speculated about the royal family's recent secrecy. Rumors spun like threads on a loom—each more intricate and damning than the last.
"The queen hasn't held an audience in weeks," muttered Lord Alric, a stout man with a penchant for stirring unrest. He leaned toward Lady Evienne, whose sharp eyes glinted with intrigue. "And have you noticed how often the princesses disappear together?"
Evienne's lips curled into a sly smile. "Indeed, Lord Alric. It makes one wonder… are they hiding something? Or perhaps someone?"
Their murmurs spread like wildfire, emboldening others to speak their suspicions.
---
Leila entered the hall with the grace of a predator, her gown of deep emerald silk shimmering under the golden light. Her arrival was carefully timed—late enough to command attention but early enough to steer the conversation.
"Ah, Lady Leila," Lord Alric greeted, his tone laced with curiosity. "How unusual to see you mingling among us today."
Leila smiled, her expression one of pleasant indifference. "Lord Alric, you make it sound as though I'm a ghost haunting these halls. I assure you, I'm quite alive and well."
Evienne stepped forward, her fan fluttering delicately. "And what brings you here, my lady? Surely someone of your intellect has better things to do than entertain the likes of us."
Leila laughed lightly, the sound disarming. "On the contrary, Lady Evienne, I find courtly gossip endlessly fascinating. For instance," she paused, lowering her voice as if sharing a secret, "I heard someone whispering about a plot to challenge the throne. But I dismissed it as nonsense, of course."
Her words had the desired effect. Alric's eyes narrowed, and Evienne's fan stilled.
"A plot?" Alric pressed.
Leila waved a hand dismissively. "Oh, I'm sure it's nothing. Probably just the overactive imagination of a servant. You know how stories get twisted."
She let the implication hang in the air, watching as doubt and paranoia began to creep into their expressions.
---
Over the next hour, Leila moved deftly through the hall, weaving a web of half-truths and strategic distractions. She planted seeds of mistrust between rival factions, subtly redirecting their focus away from the royal family.
To one group, she hinted at the possibility of foreign spies infiltrating the court. To another, she suggested that Lord Alric might be amassing power for his own gain. By the time she was done, the nobles were too preoccupied with their suspicions of one another to give much thought to the royal family's affairs.
As she exited the hall, Leila allowed herself a small smile. The nobles might think themselves clever, but they were no match for her.
--
Later that evening, Leila joined Anya, Celia, and Margaret in Margaret's chambers. The air was thick with the scent of candle wax and parchment as they poured over maps and texts.
"How did it go?" Margaret asked without looking up.
Leila perched on the edge of the desk, her emerald gown pooling around her. "The court is in chaos. They're too busy chasing shadows of their own to notice anything we're doing."
Celia breathed a sigh of relief. "That buys us some time."
"Time we'll need," Anya said, her gaze fixed on the map before her. "The Shadowstone isn't going to find itself."
Margaret closed the book she had been reading and looked at her sisters and cousin. "Then let's not waste it. Leila, you've done your part. Now it's our turn."
--