Rowan Dacre did not walk like most men.
Princess Elena Whitmoor noticed it almost immediately.
He moved quietly. Too quietly for someone wearing heavy boots on a stone floor. His steps barely made a sound as he led them through the winding corridors of Hollowthorn Castle.
The air inside the fortress felt colder than outside.
Not the pleasant chill of evening air, but something older. Something that had lived in the stone walls for centuries.
Lydia walked close beside Elena, clutching the small leather case that held their belongings. Every few seconds she glanced nervously over her shoulder.
"I don't like this place," she whispered under her breath.
Elena couldn't disagree.
The corridor stretched ahead like the throat of some sleeping beast. Tall stone arches curved overhead, disappearing into shadows where the candlelight couldn't reach.
But what unsettled Elena the most was the silence.
No servants.
No guards.
No distant voices.
Just the faint echo of Rowan's footsteps and the whisper of wind somewhere deep inside the castle walls.
Finally, Lydia couldn't hold it in any longer.
"Your Majesty," she called cautiously.
Rowan slowed but did not turn around.
"Yes?"
Lydia hesitated.
"Where… where is everyone?"
Rowan stopped walking.
Then he glanced over his shoulder.
The dim light flickered across his face, casting sharp shadows along his jawline.
"Everyone?" he repeated.
"Yes," Lydia said quickly. "Servants… guards… the court…"
Rowan's expression didn't change.
"This is Hollowthorn."
That was all he said before continuing down the hallway.
Lydia leaned toward Elena.
"That didn't answer anything," she whispered.
Elena gave a small nod.
They followed Rowan down another corridor before he finally stopped in front of a large wooden door reinforced with iron bands.
He pushed it open.
Inside was a chamber lit by a large iron chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Several candles burned in uneven rows, their flames flickering softly.
The room looked like a dining hall, though not a grand one. A long wooden table stretched through the center with several chairs arranged around it.
But only one place was set.
Rowan stepped inside and gestured casually.
"Sit."
Elena glanced at Lydia before lowering herself into the nearest chair.
The wood creaked beneath her weight.
Rowan remained standing for a moment, watching them.
Then he walked to the opposite side of the table and sat down.
For a while, none of them spoke.
Elena studied the room carefully.
The walls were lined with faded tapestries that looked older than the castle itself. Some depicted battles, others strange symbols she didn't recognize.
One tapestry caught her attention.
It showed a crown made of twisted thorns resting on a dark stone pedestal.
Something about it made her uneasy.
Rowan noticed her staring.
"That one is very old," he said.
Elena looked back at him.
"What does it mean?"
Rowan shrugged slightly.
"Depends on who you ask."
Before she could question him further, the heavy doors behind them creaked open.
Both Elena and Lydia turned sharply.
A man entered the hall carrying a wooden tray.
He was older, perhaps in his late fifties, with thinning grey hair and a narrow face that looked permanently tired.
He placed the tray on the table quietly.
Then he bowed his head.
"Evening, sir."
Rowan nodded.
"Thank you, Mr. Talbot."
Talbot gave a small nod and left the room as quietly as he had entered.
Lydia blinked in confusion.
"That's… the only servant?"
Rowan picked up a metal cup from the tray and took a slow drink.
"For tonight."
Elena noticed something strange.
There was food on the tray.
Bread. Roasted meat. A bowl of stew.
But Rowan didn't touch any of it.
Instead, he lifted a small glass bottle filled with dark liquid.
He drank from it slowly.
Elena tried not to stare.
"What is that?" Lydia asked before she could stop herself.
Rowan glanced at the bottle in his hand.
"Medicine."
Lydia didn't look convinced.
Elena decided to change the subject.
"Your castle is very quiet."
Rowan's eyes shifted toward her.
"Yes."
"Is that normal?"
"Very."
His answers were brief.
Almost careless.
Elena folded her hands on the table.
"I expected… more people."
Rowan leaned back slightly in his chair.
"Hollowthorn used to have hundreds of servants."
"What happened to them?" Lydia asked.
Rowan considered the question for a moment.
"Most left."
"Why?" Lydia pressed.
Rowan's lips curved faintly.
"They didn't like the stories."
The room fell silent again.
Elena felt a chill creep along her arms.
"What stories?" she asked quietly.
Rowan met her gaze.
"The ones about me."
His crimson eyes glowed faintly in the candlelight.
Lydia shifted uncomfortably in her seat.
"I've heard some of them," she admitted.
Rowan raised an eyebrow.
"Oh?"
She nodded slowly.
"They say you're… not entirely human."
The words hung awkwardly in the air.
Elena shot Lydia a warning look.
But Rowan didn't seem offended.
Instead, he smiled.
Not warmly.
Just enough to show he found the rumor amusing.
"And what do you think?" he asked Elena.
She hesitated.
"I think… people exaggerate things they don't understand."
Rowan studied her for a long moment.
Then he nodded once.
"A reasonable answer."
A faint wind moved through the hall, causing the chandelier to sway slightly.
The candle flames flickered wildly.
Elena suddenly felt something strange.
A sensation she couldn't explain.
It felt like being watched.
Not by Rowan.
Something else.
Something hidden in the dark corners of the castle.
She turned her head slowly.
The shadows in the far end of the hall seemed deeper somehow.
Lydia noticed too.
"Did you feel that?" she whispered.
Elena nodded.
Rowan's gaze followed theirs.
"You'll get used to it," he said calmly.
"Used to what?" Lydia asked nervously.
Rowan leaned forward slightly.
"This kingdom doesn't sleep."
Elena frowned.
"What does that mean?"
Rowan didn't answer.
Instead, he stood up from his chair.
"I'll have rooms prepared for you."
"You mean… tonight?" Lydia asked.
"Yes."
Rowan began walking toward the door.
Then he paused.
"And Princess…"
Elena looked up.
"Yes?"
His crimson eyes met hers again.
There was something strange in them.
Something almost… curious.
"You should lock your door tonight."
Elena's stomach tightened.
"Why?"
Rowan opened the door.
Then he looked back at her one last time.
"Because not everything in this castle is loyal to me."
And with that, the King of Hollowthorn disappeared into the dark corridor, leaving Elena with a cold feeling she couldn't shake.