đ„ âThe Phoenix Queen: The Servant Girl Who Was Actually the Lost Princessâ
The icy water struck Mara before she could even raise her hands to protect her face.
Gasps exploded across the royal ballroom.
Then came the laughter.
The ice cubes scattered across the polished marble floor as the freezing water soaked through her thin brown dress, clinging painfully to her trembling body.
Standing above her was Lady Celeste.
Draped in shimmering silver satin, wearing a diamond tiara that caught the light of a hundred candles, she looked less like a noblewoman and more like someone enjoying a cruel performance.
âCareful,â Celeste said with a soft laugh. âYou almost touched my dress with those filthy hands.â
Mara lowered her eyes.
She had only picked up a fallen handkerchief.
That was all.
But in a palace where power mattered more than kindness, a poor girl did not need to commit a crime to be punished.
She only needed to be noticed.
The nobles around the ballroom laughed louder as Mara wrapped her arms around herself, trying to hide the humiliation and the cold shaking through her body.
But at the far end of the room, someone did not laugh.
The old king watched in silence.
He had been silent for seventeen years.
Silent since the night his infant granddaughter vanished from her cradle during the great palace fire.
Silent since the royal physicians told him that no child could have survived the flames.
Silent while Celeste, the daughter of his younger brother, was raised believing that one day the crown would belong to her.
Mara slowly pushed the wet strands of hair away from her neck.
A single drop of water slid beneath her old necklace.
Then something happened.
Something impossible.
A faint golden glow appeared against her damp skin.
At first, no one noticed.
Just a small flicker.
A strange shimmer beneath the cold water.
But then the laughter began to disappear.
One voice at a time.
Mara looked down in confusion.
A golden mark was forming along her collarbone.
A phoenix.
A symbol that looked as if it had been carved from fire itself, glowing beneath her skin.
The entire ballroom froze.
The kingâs wine glass slipped from his hand.
It crashed onto the marble floor.
The sound echoed louder than any scream.
Celesteâs smile vanished.
Her face drained of color.
âNoâŠâ she whispered.
The king moved forward through the frozen crowd.
His fur-lined cloak dragged across the floor as every noble stepped aside.
For the first time in seventeen years, the king looked afraid.
Not angry.
Not confused.
Afraid.
Mara stepped backward, frightened by the emotion in his eyes.
He stopped only inches away from her.
His trembling hand slowly lifted toward the golden phoenix.
Then his eyes moved higher.
To the small crescent-shaped scar near her temple.
A scar that no one else had.
A scar that belonged to the baby princess who disappeared seventeen years ago.
The same mark recorded in the royal bloodline.
The kingâs breath caught.
His lips trembled.
âMy daughterâŠâ
The words barely escaped his mouth.
Mara stared at him, unable to breathe.
She had spent her entire life believing she was nobody.
A forgotten girl.
A servant.
A person no one would ever notice.
But the king was looking at her as if he had found a piece of his soul that he thought was lost forever.
And behind themâŠ
Lady Celeste stumbled backward in terror.
Because she knew.
She knew exactly why that phoenix mark had been hidden for seventeen years.
She knew exactly who Mara really was.
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And if the truth came outâŠ
Her entire claim to the throne would collapse.
