Since that night, Cael hadn't brought up the ambush again.
He hadn't questioned the source of the attackers, nor analyzed the tactics used in the skirmish. To an outsider, it might have seemed like a "simple incident"—just another misfire in a politically unstable region. But Helya knew better.
He was thinking.
And his silence was a form of observation.
Cael still resided in the military's Sector Seven—a secure, high-altitude zone reserved for upper command. After the attack, Helya was relocated to the eastern suite of his private residence, a decision justified as "protective proximity." Their rooms were separated only by a thin smart wall.
At 0600 sharp, the district's artificial sunlight activated, casting a golden hue over the polished interior.
Helya sat by the floor-to-ceiling window, her fingers absently stirring a cup of tea. Her thoughts, however, were far from the still liquid. She had received her next contact signal—three days from now, in a sealed-off energy zone south of the city.
Her last operation had been successful, but the tech kingdom's security grid had begun tightening. Patrol drones lingered longer near blind spots. Facial scans were randomly conducted on civilian blocks. Someone was watching.
She had to tread more carefully.
A sharp chime broke the silence.
She rose and opened the door. Cael stood on the threshold, dressed in his deep gray uniform, the officer's insignia on his chest glinting in the light. His expression was calm—softer than usual, but no less composed.
"Military Command wants to see you," he said.
Helya blinked. "Under what title?"
"As the princess," he replied after a pause. "And the 'survivor' of the last attack."
She tilted her head, smiling faintly. "I thought you didn't care about that incident."
"I care," he answered, his eyes resting on her for a beat longer than necessary. "I just hadn't figured out the right approach."
They left together, walking through the corridor and into the hover vehicle waiting outside. The cabin door closed behind them with a quiet hiss.
The ride was silent.
Tension thickened the air—like frost clinging to glass.
"Helya," Cael said suddenly, his voice low, "I reviewed your movement logs from the night of the attack."
Her fingers tensed against her lap.
"Not surveillance," he added quickly. "It was the AI's auto-analysis. Your energy signature overlapped briefly with the assailants' during the confrontation."
She kept her gaze fixed on the window, her tone neutral. "You think it was me?"
"I'm waiting for an answer."
She turned to face him, her expression calm, even warm—as if none of this mattered. "Then what kind of answer are you hoping for? The harmless kind, or the one you've already convinced yourself of?"
Cael's eyes narrowed slightly, but he said nothing for a moment. Then, with a clipped tone, he replied, "You did what you had to do. You saved me. I won't forget that."
He paused, the soldier's edge returning to his voice.
"But I hope you remember this, too: this is the Tech Kingdom. It's not your magical playground. Anyone who tampers with our systems pays a price."
Helya said nothing.
A small smile crept onto her lips—faint and unreadable.
She had dodged suspicion. For now.
But she knew too well: the real danger was just beginning.