The night air was thick with tension, the lingering scent of rain clinging to the palace corridors. Alina's footsteps echoed softly against the stone, her mind spinning with the prince's warning.
You must stay away from this.
She had tried to heed his words, to suppress the questions clawing at the edges of her mind. But the more she tried to push them away, the more they surfaced—his ruthless orders, the weight of secrets surrounding him, the way he had let her go when he could have silenced her forever.
She needed answers.
And she wasn't leaving without them.
She found him at the Moonlit Pavilion, standing at the edge of the balcony, gazing into the garden below. He seemed almost statuesque, his figure partially illuminated by the glow of lanterns flickering against the night breeze. But she knew better now—stillness was not peace. It was restraint.
She stepped forward, forcing her voice to steady. "Why did you stop me?"
He did not turn. "You shouldn't be here."
"I wasn't supposed to be there last night either, but that didn't stop you from interfering."
Silence stretched between them, thick and unyielding.
Finally, he turned his head slightly, his dark eyes glinting with something unreadable. "You don't know what you're asking."
Alina's hands clenched at her sides. "Then tell me."
His gaze swept over her, assessing, as if weighing the cost of the truth. When he spoke, his tone was calm, yet something in it sent a chill racing down her spine.
"Truth is a burden you are not ready to bear."
Alina stepped closer. "You speak of burden as if you carry it alone."
A flicker of something crossed his face, too fast to catch. Then, as if shaking off the moment, he exhaled slowly and turned fully to face her.
"The court is not what you think it is," he murmured. "The people who smile in daylight sharpen their knives in the dark."
She knew this already. She had heard the whispers, seen the tension woven into the very fabric of the palace. But this was different. This was him admitting it.
"And you?" she asked. "Which are you?"
The ghost of a smirk curved his lips, though it held no amusement. "That is the question, isn't it?"
She didn't look away. "Are you a tyrant, Prince Sheen?"
For the first time, something in his gaze shifted. It wasn't anger. It wasn't even surprise. If anything, it was closer to resignation.
"You mistake power for cruelty," he said quietly. "And mercy for weakness."
Alina's breath hitched. "Then what would you call it? Issuing orders that doom entire families? Instilling fear in your own court?"
His expression did not change, but there was an undeniable sharpness in his gaze. "Survival."
A shiver ran through her. He spoke the word with such finality, as if it were not just a justification, but a truth he had lived by his entire life.
She hated that a part of her understood it.
For a moment, they stood in silence, the wind shifting between them. Then, he took a slow step closer. Not enough to be threatening, but enough that she felt the weight of his presence entirely.
"Soon," he murmured, "you will see the truth yourself."
There was no malice in his tone, no attempt to sway her. It was not a warning.
It was a promise.
And somehow, that was far more terrifying.