Rena stood with her back straight, fighting the urge to fidget under the curious stares of passing courtiers. The antechamber had grown noticeably quieter since she and Gareth arrived, though a few palace scribes and attendants still bustled about. A hush of expectation filled the room—word of a "lost heir" must have spread like wildfire, just as Gareth predicted.
Every so often, she caught a glimpse of her own reflection in the polished marble floor: a slim figure cloaked in simple traveling attire, silver-white hair spilling over her shoulders. You don't look like a princess, she thought, pulse thudding. What if they don't believe you're their daughter? What if they reject you?
At last, the double doors at the far end of the chamber swung open. A tall woman in a richly embroidered gown swept in, flanked by two attendants. She had keen eyes, and her hair was gathered in a tight coiled bun. A thin, jeweled circlet glinted at her temple—clearly a mark of high station, though not quite a crown.
"I am Lady Halene," she announced, her tone clipped and formal. "An advisor to His Majesty. I've been sent to escort you to the throne room. Please follow me."
Rena glanced at Gareth, who gave a small nod. Together, they fell in behind Lady Halene. The attendants trailed after them, casting furtive looks at Rena as if weighing the rumors against what they saw. She felt her palms grow damp with nerves and quietly wiped them against her cloak.
They passed through another corridor, this one lavishly decorated with gilded sconces and vivid tapestries. Servants bowed or curtsied as Lady Halene swept by. At the corridor's end stood an ornate set of doors carved with swirling motifs of lilies under a crescent moon. Two guards in ceremonial armor pulled them open.
Beyond lay the throne room itself, and Rena's breath caught at the sight. It was grander than anything she'd imagined, with soaring pillars and high-arched ceilings painted in deep blues and golds. Colored light poured in through tall stained-glass windows, casting patches of jewel-toned brightness on the polished floor. Rows of courtiers lined the walls in hushed anticipation, their expressions ranging from curiosity to outright skepticism.
At the far end of the hall sat two elevated thrones atop a wide dais. On the right, King Darius reclined, looking pale but dignified. His hair was flecked with silver, and worry lines etched his brow. On the left sat Queen Maribel, regal in a shimmering gown of soft blues. Her eyes sparkled with a combination of apprehension and quiet hope.
As Lady Halene led them closer, Gareth bowed deeply, and Rena quickly followed suit. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears. The courtiers whispered in excited tones: "Is that really the lost princess?" "She seems too young…too ordinary."
Gareth cleared his throat, speaking loud enough to carry through the hall. "Your Majesties, I return from my mission beyond Whisperwood. I bring…one who may be the princess you lost many years ago. Her name is Rena."
An electric hush fell over the room. Rena lifted her head to meet King Darius's gaze. Up close, she saw exhaustion in his features, a hint of fragility beneath the regal bearing. Still, his voice carried a firm resonance. "Approach."
Her legs felt like lead, but Rena forced them to move, stopping a respectful distance from the dais. She dipped into another bow, heart hammering so hard she worried everyone could hear it.
Queen Maribel rose slowly from her throne, hands clasped in front of her. Her eyes, a soft hazel, fixed on Rena's silver hair. The queen stepped down from the dais, a hush following her every movement. With trembling fingers, she reached for Rena's hand.
"Child," the queen murmured, voice thick with emotion. "Let me look at you."
Rena stood still, uncertain, as Queen Maribel lightly brushed aside a lock of her hair. She felt the queen's fingers quake against her temple, and a pang of empathy surged. This wasn't just a distant monarch—this was a mother who had lost a daughter, perhaps desperately hoping for a miracle. Rena swallowed a lump in her throat.
King Darius slowly pushed himself to his feet, leaning slightly on the arm of the throne. "There are… ways for us to confirm what Gareth claims," he said, eyes flicking toward a cluster of robed officials near the dais. "But before any formal verification, I would ask you directly: who raised you, and how did you come into possession of the royal pendant?"
Rena's voice wavered, but she mustered her courage. "I was found in Whisperwood as an infant. Aunt Sorren—an herbalist—raised me. She discovered me clutching a small pouch with the pendant inside." Carefully, she withdrew the pendant from beneath her cloak and offered it. The courtiers pressed closer, craning their necks to see.
A murmur rippled through the hall. The pendant's design was identical to the kingdom's crest, though tarnished with age. King Darius exchanged a significant look with Queen Maribel, who blinked back tears. A flicker of hope lit their faces, but also caution—they had likely weathered false claims before.
One of the robed officials, a silver-haired man, stepped forward. "Your Majesty, shall we conduct the preliminary test? The old rites require a drop of royal blood in the presence of the kingdom's crest." He gestured to a gilded table at the side, upon which rested a small, ornate chalice.
The king nodded. "Yes, Chancellor Eldorin. We shall proceed. Then we will know if fate has truly returned our daughter."
Rena felt her pulse surge. She recalled Gareth mentioning ancient traditions that confirmed royal lineage, but she hadn't realized it would happen so soon—or so publicly.
"Step forward," Chancellor Eldorin instructed gently.
Rena willed her legs to move again, crossing the marble floor to stand beside the gilded table. Eldorin set the chalice before her, its rim etched with moon and lily motifs. A hush fell as he produced a tiny silver knife and offered it hilt-first.
She glanced at Gareth, who gave her a reassuring nod from a few steps away. Courage, she told herself, removing one glove so her palm was bare. She pressed the tip of the blade to her fingertip, wincing as a small bead of blood welled up. Carefully, she let it drip into the chalice.
A tense silence clamped down on the hall. For a moment, nothing happened—just the faint metallic scent of blood in the air. Then, a subtle shimmer flickered across the chalice's surface, like moonlight dancing on water. Rena drew in a sharp breath. The shimmer grew brighter, forming a soft glow that resonated with the crest engraved on the side.
Gasps erupted among the courtiers. Queen Maribel pressed a hand to her mouth, tears streaming freely now. King Darius's grip tightened on the throne's arm, eyes shining with emotion. Eldorin stared at the chalice, then inclined his head in reverence. "It seems the ancient bond is not broken. This is indeed royal blood."
A staccato of whispering swept the chamber: "By the gods, it's true." "The princess has returned!" "What will Severin say?"
The mention of Lord Severin's name brought a ripple of tension. Rena recalled Gareth's warnings: Severin would not welcome the reappearance of a legitimate heir. She felt a swirl of relief, disbelief, and sudden apprehension about what came next.
Queen Maribel stepped closer, voice trembling with joy. "My daughter…" She gently grasped Rena's hands, tears staining her cheeks. "All these years… We've prayed for this moment, dared not hope it would come."
Unable to hold back, Rena let her own tears slip free. She had never quite believed she'd feel a sense of belonging here, but the queen's raw emotion tore at her heart. Behind the queen, King Darius slowly approached. He placed a hand on Rena's shoulder, as though still uncertain she was real. "Welcome home," he said, his voice heavy with both relief and sorrow.
In that moment, all eyes in the throne room bore witness. Some nobles knelt in reverence, others regarded Rena with wary respect. The guards stood at attention, hands on their hilts as if anticipating some unseen threat. And from somewhere near the back of the hall, Rena sensed a flicker of hostility—no doubt one of Severin's allies, watching with displeasure.
Yet amid the swirl of courtly intrigue and the shadows of approaching danger, Rena found her gaze drawn to King Darius and Queen Maribel. They looked at her not as a stranger, but as the child they had lost. Despite her fears, a gentle warmth spread through Rena's chest—a spark of hope that maybe, just maybe, she had found her place at last.