"Elira, it's time for us to go," Mariel called gently, her voice carrying across the library as she watched Elira climb the ladder, carefully dusting the edges of the top row of bookshelves. The narrow aisle stretched out before them, a passageway leading out of the library. Outside, all the other maids were taking their break, while Mariel, the leader of the household staff, waited patiently for Elira to finish the fourth layer of shelves.
Mariel lingered by the doorway, feeling a sudden brush of presence beside her. She turned sharply, eyes widening as they met the figure of the ever crown prince. Without hesitation, she bowed her head deeply.
"Your Highness," Mariel whispered, her voice steady but respectful.
The crown prince, his striking yellow hair tousled from the day's exertions, regarded her with calm, piercing blue eyes. He wore a cream-coloured blouse with lace cuffs, layered beneath a dark teal vest embroidered with delicate gold patterns, paired with light trousers. His hair, though carefully styled, had fallen slightly out of place from his restless movements.
"Do not tell anyone I am here," the crown prince said quietly, slipping a small pouch of gold coins into Mariel's hand, as he often did. Mariel accepted it quickly, holding the small weight in her palm.
"Yes, Your Highness," she murmured, bowing her head once more.
Meanwhile, Elira remained unaware that the crown prince had already entered the library. She was fully absorbed in her task, dusting the final row of bookshelves with meticulous care. Only when she felt satisfied with her work did she step down, unaware of the presence of the most important person in the room.
"Elira, His Highness is here," Mariel said softly, nodding toward the crown prince as he made his way along the aisle toward her.
"Oh… wait!" Elira exclaimed, her voice rising with panic as she hurried down the ladder. She had been expecting someone, but seeing him here was far from what she had anticipated, and she desperately wanted to avoid being seen.
In her haste, Elira stepped on the hem of her skirt. Off balance, she stumbled.
"Kyaa!" she cried, eyes squeezing shut as she fell.
"Elira!" Mariel shouted instinctively, rushing forward, helpless as she watched her friend plunge downward.
The crown prince, walking calmly along the aisle, paused, his eyes widening at the sight before him. Elira's body seemed suspended in a heartbeat — her hair brushing against her ears, her frame trembling, caught between falling and being caught. Suddenly, a protective weight cradled her against a warm, solid chest, steadying her completely. Her heart pounded wildly.
A gentle, measured breath tickled the side of her face as she slowly opened her right eye, the left still shut in fear of the impact. Her gaze widened further as the shocking truth sank in — the one holding her was none other than Cassian.
"E—Elira?" Cassian breathed, his voice barely a whisper, utterly stunned. He had caught her as she fell from the ladder, and now, holding her gently in his arms, his piercing blue eyes widened in disbelief. He had never imagined that the young woman he longed to see every day would be standing before him here in the royal Library — and dressed as a maid, no less.
Elira's cheeks burned crimson, her hands instinctively pressed to her chest, embarrassed by both the fall and the unexpected encounter.
"I… I'm sorry, Your Highness," she stammered as she stepped down from Cassian's protective hold and bowed deeply, acknowledging the crown prince's rank.
"I apologies for what happened, Your Highness," Mariel interjected quickly, stepping forward to stand beside Elira. She placed a reassuring hand on Elira's shoulder while the young maid kept her head bowed, avoiding Cassian's intense gaze.
"W-Wait… I know her? She's… Elira…" Cassian murmured, his hand moving in confused gestures. His mind raced with questions — why was she here, dressed as a maid, working within the royal mansion? And most importantly, did Nanny Joana know about this?
Elira's heart hammered relentlessly. She hadn't wanted this confrontation. She had hoped to tell Cassian — and Sylas — about her employment at the mansion at the right time. Now, she could only shake her head, berating herself for the day's missteps.
"Your Highness… even if you know this girl, we are forbidden from speaking to you unless it is necessary," Mariel reminded him, bowing her head respectfully.
"I understand… but she is my Nanny's adopted child. I command you to leave us alone. I wish to speak to her. Will you grant me this, Mariel?" Cassian's voice was subdued but firm, carrying an unspoken authority that made Elira's heart skip. I hope he isn't angry… she thought, anxiously wishing her dear friend would not resent her for working in the royal palace.
"Yes… but I will only spare you one hour—" Mariel began.
"No. Make it two," Cassian interrupted sharply, his tone leaving no room for argument.
"But Your Highness—"
Thud!
Another small pouch of gold coins landed in Mariel's hand. Cassian had fetched it, an unspoken bribe to extend their time together. Mariel, though hesitant, accepted the coins and stepped aside.
"Very well… two hours," she said with a knowing wink, leaving the pair alone in the library.
"Enjoy your break, Elira! Ehehe," Mariel added with a playful expression, which only caused Elira to frown, her brows knitting together in mild irritation. She wasn't ready for the interrogation that was sure to follow.
Mariel had finally stepped out of the library, leaving Cassian and Elira alone in the tranquil space. Sunlight streamed across the tables and shelves, casting warm golden streaks, while the red curtains swayed gently in the breeze, their movement almost rhythmic.
Elira found herself avoiding the piercing gaze of the ever-watchful Crown Prince of Highthorne—her dearest friend, Cassian—who looked at her with an intensity that made her stomach flutter. She fixed her eyes on anything but him, her thoughts spinning, trying to find the right words that somehow refused to form.
"So… you're not going to explain? Why do you remain silent?"
Elira flinched at the sudden coldness in his voice. It wasn't anger, nor was it joy—it was something else entirely. Beneath the calm surface lingered a tension of worry, confusion, and an earnest desire for answers that made her heart race.
"Ah… eh… I was about to tell you—both Sylas and you—but I didn't want to disturb your duties…" Elira's voice cracked awkwardly, a forced smile barely lifting her lips. Her gaze stayed firmly away from him, though her heart thumped violently in her chest. Embarrassment, or perhaps something more, churned within her, making her breath hitch.
"Then why aren't you looking at me, Elira?" Cassian asked, his tone soft yet demanding. The question pressed her further into discomfort, making her shift uneasily in front of him.
"I'm… sorry…" she murmured, her brows drawn down, her voice warm but tinged with guilt for keeping the truth from him. "I just…" She faltered, searching for the courage she didn't feel. "All I ever wanted… was to be with—"
Her words were cut short by a sudden, surprising tug at her arm. Before she could react, her entire body pressed against Cassian's chest. Her eyes widened in shock as he held her close, his arms encircling her with an embrace that was both protective and intimate. Time seemed to stretch and slow. Elira froze, caught between fear, confusion, and a strange, undeniable warmth. She could hear the steady beat of Cassian's heart beneath her cheek, inhale the faint, comforting scent of him, and feel the firmness of his grip around her back.
"I mi—" he began, but his words were lost in the moment.
"Elira!"
A sharp yank broke through the suspended silence. A familiar, cold voice cut through the air, halting Cassian mid-sentence. Someone had forcefully pulled her away from his embrace. Blinking in surprise, Elira lifted her head and froze once more.
Standing before her was Sylas, Cassian's ever-loyal friend, his piercing silver eyes fixed on the Crown Prince with unspoken intensity. Cassian's blue eyes darkened instantly, a storm of emotion flickering within them as he stared at Sylas. Tension crackled in the air, the library's serene calm replaced by the weight of unspoken rivalry.
Before Sylas could even set foot in the library, he was quietly immersed in his office, methodically attending to a stack of papers. Beside him sat the Commander of the War Knights—the elite heavy cavalry of the Crowholts, shock troops whose skill and discipline were renowned. The commander himself was none other than Soren Crowholts Therion, cousin to Sylas's father, Soren—a stern, imposing presence of authority. Meanwhile, Sylas father, the Supreme High Commander, was attending to his own duties elsewhere, leaving the two men fully focused on their respective responsibilities.
"Sylas."
Soren's voice cut through the quiet, cold and precise.
"Yes, sir?" Sylas responded, rising smoothly from his chair.
"Have you delivered all the files I instructed you to bring from your father?" Soren asked, his tone sharp, his silver eyes like steel. His pale hair, flawless skin, and impeccable Highthorne Commander uniform added to his aura of command.
"Yes, sir," Sylas answered, calm, controlled, betraying nothing of the thoughts behind his silver eyes. His uniform—a white coat trimmed with blue, burgundy accents on the shoulders, a light-coloured shirt with a blue gem at the collar, matching trousers, and brown buckled boots—exuded authority and poise. Returning to his desk, he resumed work with quiet efficiency.
The stillness of the office was broken by the soft sound of footsteps. A maid entered, her hair braided neatly into twin plaits, dark eyes alert as she pushed a trolley carrying two cups of tea, prepared at the request of the two men.
First, she approached Commander Soren, bowing her head respectfully as she set the tea before him. Then, she moved to Sylas, placing the cup on his desk with equal deference. As Sylas glanced up from his papers, his silver eyes widened.
It was her—the very woman who had dragged him to Mr. Morgan's tavern to rescue Elira from her kidnappers.
"Wait… are you that black-haired woman?" Sylas asked, his voice calm but edged with surprise. Bea's eyes widened in disbelief.
"And you… are the man who saved Elira that night?" Bea said, astonishment in her voice.
"So… you work here at the mansion now?" Sylas asked, his tone cold yet curious, his brow arched slightly.
"Yes," Bea replied, letting out a small, incredulous laugh. "I never imagined that Elira's saviour would also be employed here."
Sylas smirked subtly, unreadable.
"Anyway, Elira was—"
"Good day, Sir Sylas… I need your help!"
Bea's words were abruptly cut off as the office door burst open. Devito hurried in, bowing quickly to Soren before rushing toward Sylas, Bea following closely.
"What's the rush, Devito?" Sylas asked, noting the urgency in his companion's steps.
"The prince has gone missing again," Devito said, exhaustion evident in his voice. "He left in the middle of his work, and I need him… would you mind finding him for me?" His hands clasped together, a silent plea urging Sylas to take charge.
Sylas took a deep breath, rising from his chair.
"Sir… may I excuse myself?" he asked Soren, who simply waved his hand, granting permission to leave.
Bea and Devito soon parted ways, returning to their duties, while Sylas strode purposefully down the corridor. He knew exactly where the prince would likely be—the imperial library, probably napping yet again.
'That idiot throwing his tantrum again, tsk!' Sylas muttered under his breath, irritation flickering across his silver eyes. Though his expression remained composed, his mind braced for the scene awaiting him.
The grand doors of the library loomed ahead. Sylas paused, hand on the ornate handle, and slowly pushed them open.
His eyes widened in shock. There, in the peaceful sunlight of the library, Cassian held Elira close. She was dressed in a maid's uniform, pressed against his chest in an intimate, almost accidental embrace.
"Elira?" Sylas murmured, disbelief etched across his features. His body moved instinctively before his mind could catch up.
"Elira!"
The word left his lips with sharp urgency. In one swift motion, he pulled her from Cassian's arms. Elira stumbled slightly, eyes wide with shock and confusion. Sylas felt a surge of unfamiliar tension—possessiveness, uncertainty, and something he had never known before. The air between him and Cassian seemed charged, a hidden rivalry sparking in that instant.
"S-sy-Sylas?!" Elira stammered, her voice trembling between surprise, embarrassment, and relief.
"Cassian… do you know about this?" Sylas asked sharply, his voice edged with cold authority and restrained frustration.
"Like hell I do??…" Cassian snapped, his tone cracking slightly. Frustration darkened his expression as he waved a hand dismissively. "All I wanted was a nap, and suddenly I find her here… with Mariel, the household head maid."
Sylas raised a single, questioning eyebrow at Elira, who forced a small, nervous smile.
"Would you mind… let me explain first?" she said softly, lips trembling as she tried to maintain composure.
The three of them seated themselves at a long library table. Cassian and Sylas sat side by side, tension coiling between them like a tightly wound spring. Across from them, Elira fidgeted, hands clasped, cheeks flushed, heart racing, trying to summon the courage to explain why she was in the mansion, dressed as a maid.
The once peaceful library felt suddenly charged, each movement—the rustle of papers, the soft swish of curtains, the faint creak of the floor—resonating with anticipation. The delicate, intricate dynamic between the three of them had begun to unfold, every heartbeat heavy with unspoken emotion, rivalry, and the subtle stirrings of something far more complicated.