The Year the Star Fell - CHAPTER 𝟑 - “Red Wine & Razor Truths”

The table was long enough to look like a threat. Candles burned, but not to give light. They burned like witnesses. Every flicker was a record of the sins being served.

At the head—Isabelle Marcel, smile sharpened to a blade.

Opposite her—Lila’s mother, Duchess Vasiliev, draped in pearls heavy enough to choke on.

And between them? Ethan and Lila. Sat like chess pieces forced into play before either wanted to move.

The clink of cutlery was louder than the violins.

Every sound rehearsed, every silence poisoned.

Isabelle Marcel

“Ethan tells me you liked his little performance last night, Lila. Music speaks where words fail, doesn’t it?” **smiling**

Sofia Vasiliev

“Music is entertainment. What speaks is power. And power doesn’t hide behind piano keys.” **dry voice**

Lila sipped her wine. Slow. Measured. Like she wanted them both to choke on how calm she was.

𝑳𝒊𝒍𝒂 𝒗𝒂𝒔𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒆𝒗 (𝑭𝒍) (19)

“Strange. For people who sit on thrones, you’re both obsessed with the court jester.”

The silence that followed was lethal. Almost beautiful.

Ethan’s lips curved, not at her, but at the audacity dripping from her words. Like watching someone dance barefoot on broken glass and still look like royalty.

𝑬𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝑴𝒂𝒓𝒄𝒆𝒍 (𝑴𝒍) (21)

“Careful, princess. They don’t clap for bravery here. They bury it.” **soft,to get unheard by the table**

𝑳𝒊𝒍𝒂 𝒗𝒂𝒔𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒆𝒗 (𝑭𝒍) (19)

Her eyes cut to him. No smile. No flinch. Just fire.

𝑳𝒊𝒍𝒂 𝒗𝒂𝒔𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒆𝒗 (𝑭𝒍) (19)

“Then they’ll choke on my ashes.”

The table resumed with talk of treaties, alliances, silk shipments. But beneath it, under the wine and whispers, there was a new war blooming— not between two families, but between two heartbeats sitting too close, and not far enough

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𝑺𝒉𝒊𝒚𝒂

𝑾𝒊𝒏𝒆 𝒔𝒑𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒔 𝒓𝒆𝒅, 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒔𝒐 𝒅𝒐 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒃𝒊𝒕𝒆, 𝑭𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒔 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒇𝒖𝒏𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒍𝒔 𝒅𝒊𝒔𝒈𝒖𝒊𝒔𝒆𝒅 𝒊𝒏 𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒍𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕. 𝑯𝒆 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒗𝒐𝒘, 𝒂 𝒇𝒍𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒊𝒏 𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝒂𝒓𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒔— 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒑𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒃𝒖𝒓𝒏, 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝒊𝒇 𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒂𝒔𝒉𝒆𝒔