My crest glowed faintly against my skin as the hologram-light hit it—a subtle gold shimmer only the cameras picked up, an enhancement coded into Veil’s broadcast algorithms to make the sovereign bloodlines look divine.
Madeline Elizabeth Thorne.
My full title glittered in the digital banner floating near the stage, translated instantly into twelve languages for the millions maybe billions watching.
I could feel the attention settle on me like heat from a spotlight.
Dynasty daughters were trained to carry that weight young—to walk like marble, breathe like silk, and smile like nothing could touch us. Ever.
I moved through the entrance arch at the exact pace drilled into me since childhood.
Flashes from the Veil drones haloed around my face as I descended the staircase. Distantly, I heard commentators naming designers, lineage ties, marriage prospects.
My bow, dress —every inch of me filtered through the sovereign gaze.
Crest banners hung from crystal rafters. Champagne towers glowed from internal lights. Every heir was dressed in ceremonial colors—embroidered silk, metallic thread, custom gowns shaped by ancient house designs.
No matter how often I attended, Sovereign never stopped feeling like fantasy.
I stepped off the final stair into the sea of heirs, officials, family heads, and foreign dignitaries. It was impossible to take three steps without being recognized.
“Lady Thorne—stunning as always.”
“A vision tonight, Madeline—your mother must be proud.”
Compliments rehearsed generations ago. I scanned the hall instinctively. The Crows weren’t hard to find.
Bastion and Luca entered on opposite sides of the room, black suits tailored like armor, expressions carved from shadow. Every heir moved out of their path without thinking.
Crow presence worked like gravity.
You didn’t fight it.
You obeyed it.
Rome was slower coming down the stairs, broad shoulders stretching the formal jacket, tattoos beneath the collar. He looked like he’d rather be anywhere else, but he walked with the same terrifying confidence the cameras adored.
Then Vince arrived.
But the shift in the room was instant.
His presence was a pressure drop—the kind that made every head turn without understanding why. The Veil drones broke formation to keep him centered in their frame.
He didn’t smile or greet anyone. He just descended the staircase like Sovereign had been built for him to walk through. Villain loved it seeing their lord even if the dynasties weren’t happy to acknowledge it.
I dragged my attention away before the cameras caught it.
“Maddy!”
Isla’s voice cut through the sea of noise. Isa Kingsley was waving from near the far archway, her crest pin catching the light like a gem.
Relief flooded me. Isa looped her arm through mine before I could even greet her.
“Finally,” she breathed. “I was beginning to think you’d been drafted into a political hostage circle.”
“Not yet. But the night is young.”
She laughed, then pulled me into a quieter corner.
