"Who's there?"

The Seventh Prince's voice was low, hoarse, but laced with authority.
The rustle outside froze, and the night went silent for a breath.

Then a whisper came, urgent but relieved.
"Your Majesty… is that you?"

The Prince's eyes narrowed. He pushed himself up despite the sharp pain in his ribs.
He glanced at the two sleeping women—
Leena's head resting on her arms, a few strands of dark hair and baby curls falling over her small, delicate face.
Even in the dim firelight, her big, innocent eyes were closed in peaceful exhaustion, her veil slipping slightly, and the faint scent of rosewater and warm spice clung to her.
When her lips parted in sleep, the shadow of a tiny dimple softened her already heart‑stirring beauty.

…An angel, he thought again, before moving silently to the barn door.

He slid it open just enough to see the moonlit outline of a familiar man.
"Jun..." he whispered, relief mixing with tension.

The loyal guard knelt immediately.
"I followed the trail of blood… I feared the worst."

"I am alive," the Prince murmured. "But listen carefully—whoever attacked me meant for no witnesses. We cannot trust anyone yet. Don't report that you've found me. I will investigate… in secret."

Jun hesitated, but then nodded.
"As you command, Your Highness."

The Prince's gaze flicked once more to the barn's interior, to the foreign woman curled beside the fire.
"…For now, I am safe," he said softly.

When he returned to the straw bed, the pain in his ribs flared, but his eyes were sharper than ever.
He sat on the edge of the bedding, and at that moment, Leena stirred.

Her lashes trembled. Slowly, her big, dark eyes opened, still hazy with sleep.
She froze when she realized he was awake and looking straight at her.