Once upon a time, long ago, there was a castle ruled by a fair and gentle king and his beautiful daughter, Princess Evelaine, a girl as lovely as she was cruel.
 She had a mean streak sharper than glass, delighting in the chaos she caused: releasing rats in the kitchens, hiding nails on the dining chairs, and terrorizing the royal cook — a kind girl who was only trying to make a living.

At last, the cook had enough. With tears in her eyes and a trembling bow, she handed in her resignation. Evelaine stood in the doorway, a proud smirk curling on her lips, watching as the poor girl disappeared beyond the castle’s golden gates.

She walked back to her room, the smirk still fresh on her face. She laid in her bed throwing the freshly fluffed pillows to the floor falling asleep.

The very next morning, a new girl arrived at the castle.
 Her name was Elodie, and she carried herself with a quiet grace that made even the sun seem to pause when she stepped into the courtyard. Her voice was soft, her manners gentle, and her smile  oh, her smile seemed to light the dull stone halls in a way no candle ever could.

The servants adored her almost instantly. The knights offered to carry her baskets, the maids lingered to hear her hum as she worked, and even the king, in his kindness, said she reminded him of the late queen with all warmth and radiance.

Princess Evelaine watched from the staircase, her hands clasped tightly around the golden railing.
 At first, she told herself it was harmless, a silly fondness the staff would soon forget. But as days passed, the praise for Elodie only grew louder, and Evelaine’s silence grew heavier.

She began to notice every compliment not given to her, every glance that drifted past her toward the new maid. And somewhere beneath her envy, something else stirred something she didn’t quite understand. 

One afternoon, as the sun dipped through the stained glass windows, the king watched Elodie arranging flowers in the great hall. Her laughter echoed softly against the marble walls, and even the servants paused to listen.

“She brightens the castle, doesn’t she?” he said fondly, turning to Evelaine.
 “She does, Father,” Evelaine replied, her voice tight with a smile.

The king smiled, unaware of the storm brewing behind his daughter’s eyes.
 “She’s far from home, poor thing,” he mused. “We should do something kind for her, perhaps a birthday celebration? It’s tomorrow, I’m told.”

Evelaine’s stomach turned. A celebration? For a servant?

As Evelaine walked the grand halls of her castle, her gown whispering against the marble floor, she caught sight of Elodie. The girl was carrying a basket of apples from the orchard — the sweet red ones, Evelaine’s favourite.

She watched her like a hawk circling its prey, her father’s words echoing in her mind. A birthday celebration, he had said. Her blood burned hot at the thought.

Composing herself, Evelaine glided forward, her voice smooth as glass.
 “Hello. I am Evelaine.”

Elodie turned, her eyes bright and guileless. “Hullo! I’m Elodie,” she replied, smiling wide enough to make the hall feel warmer.

“Well, Elodie,” Evelaine said, her tone almost syrupy, “I heard your birthday is tomorrow?”

“Oh, it is,” Elodie replied innocently, adjusting the basket in her arms.

“My father, the king, has decided to throw you a celebration.”

“Really? How kind,” said Elodie, a soft blush colouring her cheeks.

Evelaine tilted her head, her lips curving into a practiced smile. “I was wondering,” she said lightly, “if tomorrow evening, before the party… you might take a walk with me.”

A plan was already taking shape behind her eyes.

“Of course,” Elodie said. “How kind of you.”

The next evening, the castle gleamed brighter than it ever had before.
 Ribbons of gold and rose hung from the chandeliers, and the scent of honey cakes drifted through the air. Musicians filled the hall with laughter and song, and at the centre of it all stood Elodie dressed in a gown of pale silk, her hair braided with tiny blossoms from the royal garden.

Evelaine stood near the vase beside her father, her smile fixed, her gloved hands trembling behind her back. Every time a guest toasted to Elodie, her pulse quickened. Every compliment about how radiant she looks, how graceful she is struck her like the toll of a bell.

The king raised his goblet. “To Elodie,” he declared proudly, “the girl who brought light back into these halls!”

Evelaine’s smile cracked. Her voice was sweet when she leaned toward Elodie, but her eyes burned with something darker.
 “You’ve made quite the impression,” she murmured. “My father seems to adore you.”

Elodie turned, startled. “Oh… I… I didn’t mean to.”

“Didn’t mean to?” Evelaine repeated, a faint laugh escaping her. “Strange. You seem to have a talent for taking what isn’t yours.”

Elodie blinked, confused. “Princess?”

Evelaine froze. The room was full of light and sound, but she felt suddenly cold. Her heart hammered. Then, like a mask being snapped back into place, she smiled again — a perfect, dazzling smile.

“Oh, forgive me,” she said softly. “I only mean you’ve captured everyone’s hearts so easily. It’s… impressive.”

Elodie’s shoulders relaxed. “You’re too kind.”

Evelaine’s voice lowered to a whisper. “Walk with me after this. There’s something I’d like to show you — before the night ends.”

And as the music swelled and the guests danced, Evelaine stood in the middle of it all  smiling, shimmering, and seething waiting for the moment when the lights would fade, and her plan could begin.