The corridors were freezing.
Not dramatically, not poetically—just actually cold. The kind of cold that sneaks through your boots and reminds you that castles are basically decorative stone refrigerators.
I was walking fast. Not because I was stalking prey. Not because I was brooding.
Because if I slowed down, my legs were going to start shaking.
Julian hurried beside me, nearly jogging to keep up. He always moved like he had too much energy and nowhere safe to put it.
"You shouldn't be so mean to her, you know," he said carefully.
I know.
The words detonated inside my skull.
I know. I know. I feel like I just kicked a puppy and then asked it to thank me for it.
But I tilted my head, just slightly. Calm. Detached.
"Who?"
I absolutely knew who.
I just needed three seconds to swallow the panic rising in my throat so I didn't spin around and confess that I wanted to say yes, that I'd panicked, that I'd been thinking about venison and lavender and how terrifying it is to want something gentle.
"Hannah," Julian said. "I think she loves you."
My brain stalled.
She what?
It was like someone had dropped a book inside my head and all the pages scattered.
She loves me?
After the scar. After the coldness. After years of pretending indifference because it was safer than vulnerability.
Love felt like something other people did. People who weren't walking weapons.
"Love?" I scoffed.
I hated how easily the persona slipped on. It was armor at this point.
"She's a dog that keeps returning to the master who kicked it. It's a defect."
Silence.
The words hung there, ugly and sharp.
What is wrong with you?
I wanted to grab the sentence out of the air and tear it apart.
I wanted to rewind. I sounded cruel. Petty. Like someone who enjoyed breaking things.
Julian stopped walking for half a step. The look on his face wasn't anger.
It was hurt.
And that was worse.
We reached the balcony.
The wind hit my face, sharp and clean. I stepped out and gripped the railing, needing something solid.
The kingdom stretched below us—rolling green hills, thin lines of smoke curling from chimneys, sunlight flashing off distant water.
It looked peaceful. Ordinary.
It looked like a place where people woke up, argued about bread prices, kissed their children goodbye, and did not dissolve under pressure in a marble hall.
A weight settled on my shoulders.
I have to protect this.
And I'm barely holding myself together.
"The world is rotting, Julian," I said.
It sounded dramatic. Philosophical.
Inside, it felt more like: I'm scared. I don't know how to stop the cracks from spreading.
My grip tightened on the stone.
Too tight.
A thin fracture splintered outward beneath my fingers.
I immediately loosened my hold.
Right. Casual property damage. Very reassuring, Alex.
"Alex, don't talk like that," Julian said softly. "They are our people."
I know they are.
That's the problem.
If I falter, the North tests our borders. The East sends more spies. The West innovates something catastrophic and calls it progress. Weakness invites teeth.
I turned toward him.
The sunlight caught my eyes and made them sting. When I'm overwhelmed, that faint blue shimmer creeps in—an unfortunate side effect of stress and suppressed magic.
To Julian, it probably looked ominous.
It felt like I might pass out.
"I don't care about Hannah," I said.
Lie.
"I don't care about her dinner."
Bigger lie. My stomach chose that moment to twist painfully.
"I care about one thing."
Julian swallowed. "And what is that?"
He looked afraid.
Of me.
That realization hurt more than the cold.
I leaned closer. If I made it dramatic enough, if I made myself sound monstrous enough, maybe he'd stop trying to see the cracks.
"I'm going to make this world scream," I whispered.
Because if the world is loud enough, maybe no one will hear how scared I am.
"And I will be the only one left to hear it."
Silence followed.
Wind tugged at my cape. It billowed perfectly. Cinematic. Terrifying. I felt like an edgelord.
I pushed off the railing and walked away with long, deliberate strides.
Nailed it, I thought faintly.
He definitely thinks I'm unhinged now.
My heart was hammering so hard it hurt. Each beat felt like it was trying to escape my ribs.
Behind the performance, the truth thudded louder:
I don't want the world to scream. I want it quiet.
Safe. Warm.I want people to eat dinner together without fear.I want Hannah to stop looking at me like I'm something she has to survive.
I turned the corner out of Julian's sight and let my shoulders sag for half a second.
Okay.
Now.
Where is the nearest empty room so I can breathe without anyone watching?
Because dark gods, apparently, do not hyperventilate in hallways.