I slipped through the corridor behind the main pavilion, careful not to draw attention to myself. My limbs still felt heavy with fatigue from the Royal Hunt, and the lingering ache in my side reminded me that not all wounds are visible. The torches along the walls flickered softly, casting wavering shadows that seemed to follow me. I tried to steady my breathing before I reached the small ante‑chamber that had once been quiet and unassuming—now turned into an illusion of safety.
Prince Julius waited there. He stood backlit by the moonlight pouring in from the stained glass window. His silhouette was elegant, poised, and dangerous. I paused at the threshold, uncertain. He didn't move. I could feel him scrutinizing me through the half‑light.
"You survived," he said quietly.
I nodded. I didn't trust my voice.
He sighed softly, a gesture close to amusement. Then he stepped forward and closed the door behind me. The sound echoed hollowly through the still room.
