I had spent too many days in my chambers, hiding – waiting. Collins still hadn’t responded, and even though I had four months until the ball, I felt the days ticking away. Who knew when he’d get my letter, and whether he’d send help or simply write the words I dreaded most: Do your best.

My best to dance like Vivian, to conduct myself like her, without slipping or risking exposure all night.

Ms. Whitmore’s letters hadn’t helped. If anything, they’d made it worse. Each one brought the future closer. More real, less avoidable.

I let out a rough exhale. “I need air.”

Buckley looked up immediately. “Should I call for an escort?”

“No. I won’t go far. The bridges will do fine.”

She hesitated, then nodded.

The castle bridges were quieter than the halls. Suspended between the varied towers, they caught the wind in a way the rest of the castle couldn’t. It slipped through my sleeves, cool and sharp, carrying the scent of pine from the forests below.

I rested my hands against the stone railing, and for a moment, I could almost pretend I wasn’t trapped in any of this. Almost.

Images flashed through my mind that made my stomach turn. Dancing required precision and practice, while the most training I had came from Penelope and the other servants on our rare nights off – usually the kingdom’s birthday.

There, people didn’t watch to scorn or make connections. It was simply to relax. To be with each other. To laugh.

But balls with royals…

I pushed away from the railing before I could think on it any longer.

“Let’s keep moving. Somewhere else…”

“Of course, My Lady.”

The halls were louder than usual as we descended the castle steps. A cluster of voices echoed from the far end, rounding the corner just as we reached the bottom.

Leading them – Fervent Wells.

He stopped directly in my path. There was no surprise in his expression. No hesitation. Only recognition, as though he had been expecting me.

“Your Highness,” he said. “How unusual to see you on this side of the castle.”

A small gathering of nobles stood just behind him, their conversation stalled, their attention fixed.

I gave a light bow. “Lord Wells. I’m simply taking a walk, if you don’t mind.”

I glanced at Buckley and gave a head wave for her to follow, but as I moved to pass, his voice carried after me.

“We’re on our way to a private court session,” he said, gesturing faintly behind him. “Matters of some importance.”

I paused, turning back. “Is that so?”

“Yes. Would you care to join us?”

“I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

His gaze sharpened. “On the contrary,” he said smoothly. “Your presence would be… valuable.”

Behind him, the nobles shifted – subtle, but collective. Expectation settled in the space between us. If I refused, he’d make sure it wasn’t forgotten.

“I see. Then I would be glad to join you.”

A small smile touched his lips.

“This way, Your Highness.”

The room was smaller than I expected. Everything was made of polished dark wood. With one single long table decorating the room. 

Buckley had to wait outside. 

I took a seat as close to the door as I could manage.

Wells resumed the conversation as if nothing had changed. They spoke around me at first – politics, trades, alliances. The words came quickly, but not so fast that I could ignore them.

Then—

“Your Highness,” Wells said, drawing the room’s attention to me. “What is your opinion on the northern agreements?”

I took a breath. “I think… agreements rely more on the people behind them than the words themselves.”

A few nods followed.

Another voice spoke. “And if those people fail?”

I let the question sit for a moment.

“Then the agreement was never stable to begin with.”

Fervent said nothing. He didn’t need to. I could feel his attention, sharper than the others. He wasn’t listening for answers. He was listening for mistakes.

“May I ask,” the noblewoman beside me began, “how your father typically handles disputes between your kingdom and the North?”

“My father is wise. He seeks many perspectives from his council, ensuring the good of both kingdoms before working toward a peaceful solution.”

Wells took the moment.

“Do you believe stronger borders with the North would prevent these disputes – or provoke them?”

My fingers tightened in the fabric of my dress. Either answer would leave this room long before I did. Wells might as well have cut my head off where I sat.

“Are you without an opinion on such a topic, Your Highness?” he asked, a trace of venom beneath the calm.

Every noble leaned forward, ready to agree – or to tear me apart.

“I fear, as the Eastern Princess, I shouldn’t speak on such a serious matter regarding Western affairs. It would be more than inappropriate.”

I stood.

“I worry I’ve taken too much of your time. I thank you for such an enlightening experience, but I have other engagements I must attend to.”

Silence followed. The nobles glanced between each other – then to Wells.

“Of course,” he said. “We wouldn’t wish to keep you.”

Fervent Wells rose and led me to the doorway.

He lowered his chest in a shallow bow. “You handled yourself well.”

Not praise, but an observation.

I met his gaze. “I’m glad to impress.”

I dipped my head then stepped into the hall.

My composure held tight even as I felt his stare linger at my back…