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The evening air was crisp and clear, city lights twinkling below like scattered diamonds. On the rooftop of the Kingsley family brownstone, Adelaide sat wrapped in a cream knit shawl, legs tucked beneath her on a wicker chair, nursing a cup of warm jasmine tea.
She didn't flinch when she heard the door creak open behind her.
Monet stepped out hesitantly, wearing a black hoodie—not designer, just soft and lived-in—and joggers. Her hair was pulled into a loose bun. There was no armor tonight.
"Your mom let me up," Monet said quietly, almost shy. "Said you might want company. Or might send me back down."
Adelaide glanced at her but said nothing. Her eyes—sharp and sad and serene—rested on Monet like they used to, only this time, there was a new kind of distance there. One Monet hadn't learned how to cross yet.
Monet moved to the chair beside her. She didn't sit. She waited.
"You can sit," Adelaide finally murmured, voice flat. "If you're not here to lie."
Monet dropped into the seat like her legs might give out. Her eyes, wide and uncertain, searched Adelaide's face. "I'm not."
Silence stretched between them. The kind that wasn't uncomfortable—just full. Like something sacred could finally be exhaled.
"I watched you today," Adelaide said, finally breaking the quiet. "You listened. You weren't...performing."
"I didn't want to," Monet whispered. "Not this time."
Adelaide studied her. "Why now?"
Monet looked down, fingers knotting together in her lap. "Because...I got what I thought I wanted. I got the crown. The control. The power. And it tasted like ash."
Adelaide tilted her head slightly, curious, guarded.
"And then I lost you," Monet continued, "and everything went quiet in a way that scared me more than any scandal ever could."
A beat.
"I didn't realize how much noise I was making...until you weren't in it."
"I know," Monet said, her voice cracking. "And I would take it back—every post, every plan, every stupid game. But I know I can't. I just... I want you to know I see it now."
"You wanted power more than you wanted me."
"I wanted to be invincible," Monet confessed. "But you made me want to be human."
Adelaide let that sink in. The weight of it pressed down on her chest, but not in a suffocating way. More like a reminder that her own heart still beat, still felt.
"And now?" she asked softly. "Do you want to be human or queen?"
