Witch's Midnight Mate

"For heaven's sake, can't you work any faster?" Vivian snapped, her foot tapping an impatient rhythm against the marble floor.

The royal seamstress flinched but continued her meticulous work on the wedding gown's intricate beadwork. As the most prominent princess of Averna, Vivian Tatiana Steele demanded perfection—especially for tomorrow's ceremony where she would wed Crown Prince Victor of Dracor.

"We're proceeding as quickly as possible, Your Royal Highness," the seamstress replied with a tight smile that didn't reach her eyes. "The crystal embellishments require delicate handling."

Vivian exhaled sharply, fighting the urge to mutter an incantation that would transform the woman into something small and slimy. The magic tingled at her fingertips, begging for release.

"I've been standing here for nearly four hours while you fix mistake after mistake," Vivian hissed through clenched teeth. "My patience is wearing dangerously thin."

The seamstress and her assistants exchanged nervous glances. Everyone in the palace knew of Princess Vivian's formidable magical abilities—powers inherited from her infamous grandfather that made her more feared than respected among the court. One wrong move, one careless word, and who knew what might happen?

"Vivi!" A cheerful voice called from the doorway, instantly melting Vivian's scowl into a genuine smile.

"Chloe! Thank goodness you're here," Vivian exclaimed as her best friend—perhaps her only true friend—swept into the room. "This fitting has become an absolute nightmare, and the wedding is tomorrow!"

Chloe Parker moved gracefully across the room, her emerald dress swishing softly against the floor. She took Vivian's hands in hers, her touch cool and comforting.

"Everything will be perfect," Chloe assured her, voice honey-sweet. "Tomorrow is both your wedding and your birthday—the most magical day of your life."

Something flickered in Chloe's eyes—so brief Vivian almost missed it—but the princess was distracted by the seamstress rising to her feet.

"We've finished, Your Royal Highness," the woman announced with undisguised relief. "The alterations are complete."

Vivian dismissed the seamstress and her assistants with a wave of her hand, then turned to examine herself in the full-length mirror. The wedding gown was truly spectacular now, with diamond dust shimmering across the sweeping train like captured starlight.

"I can hardly believe it's happening," Vivian whispered, a strange uneasiness settling in her chest despite the beautiful reflection before her. She turned to Chloe with uncertainty clouding her features. "Do you think Victor and I are rushing this? Sometimes I wonder if—"

"You're just nervous," Chloe interrupted, pressing a crystal goblet into Vivian's hand. "Here, drink this. It will calm you."

Vivian gazed at her friend with appreciation. They had grown up together, practically sisters since Chloe's parents died years ago. Tomorrow, Chloe would stand beside her as maid of honor, witnessing the culmination of Vivian's fairytale romance.

As Vivian raised the goblet to her lips, a faint but unusual scent caught her attention. Something wasn't right.

"Is something wrong?" Chloe asked, her expression the picture of innocence.

"No, nothing," Vivian lied, pretending to take a sip. "I should change out of this gown before something happens to it. Wait here."

Once behind the privacy screen in her dressing chamber, Vivian quickly spat the liquid into an empty vase and enhanced her hearing with a whispered spell, focusing on the main room where Chloe remained.

"She drank it," Chloe's voice came through clearly, as if she were speaking to someone through a communication device. Her next words froze Vivian's blood. "Once she passes out, I'll let you in. Bring the camera equipment—tomorrow, the entire kingdom will see their precious princess in all her naked glory."

Vivian's hand flew to her mouth to stifle a gasp. This couldn't be happening. Not Chloe. Not her closest confidante.

"I despise her," Chloe continued, venom dripping from every word. "Victor should have been mine! The crown should have been mine! I'm the one who met him first, the one everyone in Averna actually respects."

"Vivian is nothing but a temperamental witch who causes trouble wherever she goes. Nobody truly likes her—not even her own parents. Once everyone sees that video tomorrow, she'll be finished. The royal family will have no choice but to disown her for bringing such disgrace upon them."

Each word was a dagger to Vivian's heart. For years, she had shared everything with Chloe—her dreams, her fears, her secrets. How many times had Vivian used her powers to protect Chloe from bullies, only to receive punishment and fearful glances in return? She had always believed Chloe understood her better than anyone else.

It had all been a lie.

Tears streamed down Vivian's face as the betrayal sank in. On the eve of what should have been the happiest day of her life, her so-called best friend was plotting to destroy her.

A cold, bitter laugh escaped her lips as she wiped away her tears. Straightening her spine, Vivian's expression hardened into something dangerous. She wouldn't let this treachery stand.

Pushing through the door with supernatural force, Vivian stormed back into the room. Chloe gasped, dropping her phone with a clatter.

"Surprised?" Vivian's voice was deadly quiet. "Were you expecting to find me unconscious by now? Ready for your little photoshoot?"

"V-Vivian, what are you talking about?" Chloe stammered, backing away as Vivian advanced.

Snatching up the goblet with the remaining drugged liquid, Vivian lunged forward. "Let's see how you like a taste of your own medicine!" She grabbed Chloe's jaw, forcing the liquid down her throat despite the woman's struggles and choking protests.

"Vivian, please! Stop!" Chloe begged between coughs, tears streaming down her face. "I don't understand what's happening!"

For a fleeting moment, Vivian hesitated. Could she have misheard? Could this all be a terrible misunderstanding?

"What in the world is going on here?" Victor's voice boomed from the doorway as the crown prince strode into the room, his handsome features contorted with concern.

In an instant, Chloe collapsed to her knees, trembling. "Vivian, please forgive me," she sobbed, touching her reddened cheek as though she'd been struck. "I didn't mean to spill anything on your beautiful dress."

Victor rushed to Chloe's side, wrapping a protective arm around her shoulders. "Vivian? What have you done?" he demanded, his eyes cold as they assessed the scene.

"No, Victor, it was just an accident," Chloe whispered, looking up at Vivian with a perfect mask of forgiveness. "She's under so much stress with the wedding preparations. She didn't mean to hit me."

Vivian stood frozen, watching the performance unfold before her. The woman she had trusted most in the world had not only planned to humiliate her but was now painting her as an abuser in front of her fiancé.

And Victor—the man she was supposed to marry tomorrow—had immediately taken Chloe's side without question.

In that moment, Vivian saw everything with perfect clarity. The restlessness she'd been feeling wasn't pre-wedding jitters. It was her instincts warning her that something was terribly wrong.

As Victor helped Chloe to her feet, Vivian caught the brief, triumphant glance that passed between them—a look of shared conspiracy that confirmed her worst fears.

Tomorrow wasn't going to be the happiest day of her life after all.