Time stopped, at least for me. I was feeling empty and out of soul but suddenly someone lit all the lamps around me at once.
If that's possible.
I didn't expect her question to undo me.
"Why are you here alone, Your Highness?" Anastasia asked gently.
"Shouldn't you be with the queen, preparing for the trial?"
Her voice was calm, respectful. Palace-correct. And yet all I could see was the same girl who had stood in the garden at midnight, eyes red, voice shaking, confessing feelings she thought might be unwanted.
The same girl who loved a guard.
Not a prince.
I straightened without meaning to, shoulders remembering duty before my heart could stop them.
"I needed air," I said. "The palace feels… heavy today."
She tilted her head slightly, as if listening to more than my words.
Heavy didn't even begin to cover it.
What I saw in front of me was the girl who knew Kit's laughter, Kit's clumsiness, Kit's quiet listening. She had cried for Kit. Worried for Kit. Loved Kit.
And now there was only Prince Adrien standing before her, wrapped in silk and rules and distance.
"I suppose," I continued slowly,
"the burden on a prince's heart is not always visible."
Doesn't matter if I'm Kit or Prince Adrien, if it's her. I can tell her anything my eyes closed.
She smiled softly. "Burden can be quiet."
That nearly broke me.
I looked away for a moment, gathering the pieces of myself.
"The trial excites everyone," I said. "New faces. New hopes. A future chosen in front of the court."
My voice tightened. "But I've never been fond of it."
"Why?" she asked.
Because the girl I love won't be standing there as herself.
Because the one I want already chose me when I had no crown.
Because I can't tell you that I run corridors at night just to feel like myself again.
I swallowed.
"Because it feels like choosing a life while ignoring the heart already living inside you."
Her eyes softened. She didn't push. She never did.
"That sounds lonely," she said instead.
Lonely.
I laughed quietly, without humor. "A prince is never alone," I replied. "But sometimes… never truly seen."
She stepped a little closer then, just enough that I could feel the warmth of her presence.
"I think," she said, "that being seen once is enough to survive many days of being invisible."
I looked at her then. Really looked.
She wasn't demanding. She wasn't accusing. She was offering something gentle and human, like she always did. And the weight in my chest shifted, turning sharp with regret.
If only you knew, I thought.
If only I had been brave sooner.
"I should go," she said after a pause, stepping back.
"You look like someone who needs quiet more than company."
She curtsied properly this time. Lady Anastasia. Not the girl from the garden.
And that hurt more than anything else today.
As she turned to leave, she added softly, "Whoever you truly are, Your Highness… I hope you don't lose yourself to the crown."
Then she walked away.
I stood there long after her footsteps faded, heart pounding like it had something urgent to say. The corridor felt empty again, but not peaceful.
I had lied to her.
Not with words. With silence.
She loved Kit.
And Kit loved her back.
And Kit was me.
I had told myself I was protecting her. Protecting the freedom. Protecting the kingdom.
But all I had really protected was my own fear.
Fear that she would look at me differently.
Fear that the prince would erase the guard she loved.
Fear that honesty would cost me everything.
I pressed my hand to my chest.
No more.
She deserved the truth. Every piece of it. The disguise. The nights. The reasons. The fear. The love.
Not as a prince demanding understanding.
But as a man asking to be chosen again.
I turned toward the direction she had gone, decision settling heavy and clear in my heart.
Tomorrow, I would tell her.
Everything.
I found Rowan in the training yard, sleeves rolled, sword resting against his shoulder as if it were an extension of his arm. He looked up the moment he saw me, reading my face the way he always did.
"You've something to tell? ," he said.
"Yes," I replied without slowing. "I'm telling Anastasia everything. The disguise. Kit. All of it. And I want to end this meaningless trial."
Rowan didn't react at once. He planted the sword into the ground and folded his arms.
"Say it again," he said calmly. "Slowly."
"I love her," I said. "And I won't choose a wife like she's a prize on a table."
Silence stretched between us. Then Rowan nodded once. "All right."
No anger. No shock. Just acceptance.
"But," he added, voice steady, "let me warn you before you run toward it."
I exhaled. "I expected that."
"The trial isn't only about marriage," Rowan said.
"It's about alliances. Stability. Your mother will fight you. The council will panic. Some nobles will smile while sharpening knives."
"I know."
"And Anastasia," he continued gently,
"will be dragged into that storm the moment the truth comes out. People will judge her. Question her. Blame her."
My jaw tightened. "I won't let them hurt her."
"I know you won't," Rowan said. "But you can't shield her from everything."
He stepped closer. "This isn't a fairy story, Adrien."
"I know," I said quietly. "That's why I'm choosing her anyway."
Rowan studied me for a long moment, then smiled. Not teasing. Proud.
"Good," he said. "I was afraid you'd hesitate."
I blinked. "You're not trying to stop me?"
"I already did that once," he replied. "It didn't work. And this time… you're not running. You're standing."
Relief loosened something in my chest.
"I'll support you," Rowan said firmly. "As your guard. As your friend. Whatever happens."
"Thank you," I said. The words felt small for what they meant.
Rowan's eyes gleamed. "Now," he added, clapping his hands once, "if we're doing this, we do it properly."
"Properly?" I echoed.
"We plan," he said. "You tell Anastasia first. In private. Then we prepare for the queen. Then the council. We control the life before it controls us."
Despite everything, I smiled.
Rowan grinned back. "You always were terrible at lying. It's about time."
For the first time since the trial was announced, the future didn't feel like a trap.
It felt like a path.
And I was finally walking it.
* * *
Anastasia searched the palace the way one searches for a familiar sound in a crowded room. Slowly. Quietly. With growing worry.
She passed the guard posts, the servants' corridor, even the small courtyard near the stables. No orange hair. No careless stance. No Kit leaning where he shouldn't, pretending to work.
By evening, the ache settled in her chest.
Maybe he regrets it, she thought.
Maybe he said nothing because he didn't feel the same after all.
Maybe my confession became a burden.
The thought hurt more than she wanted to admit.
She returned to her room tired, heart heavier than her steps. When she pushed the door open, she froze.
A single rose lay on her table. Fresh. Red. Impossible to miss.
Beside it rested a folded letter.
Her hands trembled as she picked it up.
Anastasia,
I owe you honesty, and more courage than I've shown so far.
Tomorrow, I want to give you a small surprise.
If you're angry after it, I'll accept that.
But I hope… I hope you'll still like it.
— K
Her breath caught.
He hadn't disappeared. He hadn't regretted her.
He was preparing something.
She pressed the letter to her chest, eyes stinging. "You're unfair," she whispered to the empty room. "Leaving my heart like this."

She placed the rose in water carefully, as if it were something fragile, and sat by the window, staring at the darkening sky.
Let tomorrow come faster, she prayed.
Elsewhere in the palace, the prince stood alone in his chamber, the same restlessness coiled in his chest. He had written the letter three times before settling on those simple lines. Truth waited for morning, sharp and frightening and necessary.
He closed his eyes and took a steady breath.
Please let this go well, he thought.
Please let her choose me again.
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SIDE NOTE: Am I the only one or this chapter really did give a second hand embarrassment. ☺☺
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