Alina had been careful. Or at least, she thought she had been.
Ever since she had first glimpsed the court's undercurrents of deceit, she had made sure to walk with lowered eyes, to listen without appearing to hear, to blend into the fabric of palace life as nothing more than a nameless servant. But in a place like this—where even a whisper could turn into a blade—caution was never enough.
And tonight, she had mis-stepped.
The halls of the palace were silent, save for the occasional rustle of fabric as she moved. Her errand had been simple—deliver a set of scrolls to the archive chamber and return immediately. But as she neared the pavilion leading to the secluded inner chambers, voices stopped her in her tracks.
Sharp. Urgent.
She had learned to recognize the tone of conspiracy.
Stepping carefully behind one of the intricately carved wooden partitions, she slowed her breath and strained to listen.
"I told you—this cannot wait," a man's voice, low and tense.
"The council is restless," another voice added. "The emperor is frail, and the prince—"
A pause. A heavy silence.
"The prince must not rise to the throne."
Alina's pulse quickened.
A coup?
The sound of footsteps shifting against the stone floor made her tense. Whoever they were, they were close—too close.
"I trust you have arranged everything?" the first man asked.
"Yes, but we must act soon. If he—"
A hand suddenly wrapped around her wrist.
She gasped, barely able to stifle the cry that rose in her throat. In one swift motion, she was yanked away from her hiding place, pulled into the shadows of an adjacent hallway.
A firm grip steadied her, pressing her back against the cool marble pillar. When she looked up, her breath froze.
Prince Sheen.
His dark gaze bore into her, unreadable yet intense. Up close, he was even more imposing than she remembered—tall, poised, every movement deliberate. But it wasn't his presence that sent a shiver down her spine.
It was the expression in his eyes.
He knew.
Alina's heartbeat thundered in her ears. He must have seen her listening—must have realized she had heard too much. Any moment now, he would call the guards, would demand to know why a mere servant had wandered too close to affairs that did not concern her.
Instead, he exhaled sharply, as if weighing something in his mind.
"You shouldn't be here." His voice was quieter than she expected, but no less firm.
Alina swallowed hard. "I—I didn't mean to—"
"Be silent."
His grip on her wrist loosened, though his presence remained dangerously close. He studied her carefully, his gaze searching—not with suspicion, but something else. Something far more unnerving.
Something like recognition.
When he spoke again, his voice was lower, more controlled. "You heard things you were not meant to hear."
She felt the cold weight of fear press against her chest. "I swear, I won't speak of it."
His lips pressed into a thin line. He didn't seem convinced, yet he did not move to summon the guards. Instead, his fingers curled slightly as if suppressing some unseen thought before he exhaled and spoke words she could not have expected.
"You must stay away from this."
Alina blinked. "…What?"
He released her then, taking a measured step back. His expression was once again unreadable, but there was something beneath the surface—something that did not match the coldness of his earlier command.
Was it warning?
She dared to meet his gaze. "Why?"
The prince's jaw tightened, but he did not answer.
Instead, he turned sharply, disappearing down the corridor without another word.
Alina remained frozen where she stood, her heart still pounding.
He should have had her punished. Should have exposed her mistake, treated her as a threat.
Instead, he had warned her.
And that, more than anything else, terrified her.