Before dawn could fully stretch its pale fingers across the palace windows, Anastasia stirred. For a brief, fragile second, she did not remember where she was. Then she felt it. Warmth. Solid. Protective.
Adrien's arm was wrapped securely around her waist, his breathing slow and even against her hair. One hand rested lightly at her back as if even in sleep he feared she might drift away. Her eyes widened. Color rushed to her face like sunrise arriving too early. Carefully, carefully, she tried to lift his arm.
It did not budge. She glanced at him. He looked younger in sleep. Softer. Not a prince weighed down by court whispers and expectations. Just a man holding someone he loved. Her heart betrayed her by melting again.
"This is dangerous," she whispered to herself.
With delicate strategy worthy of a battlefield general, she slipped from beneath his arm inch by inch. He shifted slightly, tightening his hold for a heartbeat, and she nearly froze in place.
But he settled again. She gathered herself, smoothed her dress, and hurried toward the door. Just before leaving, she looked back. He was still asleep. And smiling. Her embarrassment doubled.
By the time the first servants began stirring in the corridors, Anastasia was safely inside her own chamber, pressing her heated face into her pillow as if it might absorb the evidence of the night.
Breakfast that morning shimmered with an unusual energy.
The prince entered the dining hall composed as ever, posture straight, expression controlled. Yet something betrayed him. His eyes were brighter. His steps lighter. He greeted the nobles with a warmth that felt almost... radiant.
Several candidates exchanged hopeful glances.
"He must be pleased with yesterday's trial," one whispered.
"Perhaps he has already formed an opinion," another murmured eagerly.
Adrien listened politely, answered calmly, even smiled more than usual.
Across the table, Anastasia kept her gaze fixed firmly on her tea. She did not dare look up. Rowan, however, observed everything with the precision of a hawk.
The faint curve at the prince's lips.
The way his gaze flickered unconsciously toward one particular seat. The subtle calmness replacing his usual internal storm. The queen noticed it too. She sipped her tea slowly, eyes thoughtful. This was not the satisfaction of a successful trial. This was the quiet glow of a man who had made a decision in his heart.
Rowan caught the queen's gaze briefly. No words were exchanged. None were needed. Something had shifted. And whatever it was, it had nothing to do with the competition.
The morning sun had barely lit the palace corridors when Anastasia was walking toward the garden. She was still trying to keep her composure after breakfast, replaying in her mind the faint glow she had seen in Adrien's expression.
Suddenly, a warm presence appeared behind her. Before she could react, soft lips pressed against her cheek.

Anastasia froze.
"Adrien!" she whispered, her eyes wide, cheeks burning bright red. "Someone might see-"
He chuckled, a gentle, teasing sound, and ignored her protests.
"Good morning," he murmured, his tone both playful and fond. "I couldn't resist."
She tugged at his arm, trying to pull away. "No! We can't-people will notice!"
But he only laughed again, brushing her hair back lightly. "Let them notice," he said softly. "I want them to know who matters."
Her heartbeat raced. She had never seen him so bold, so unrestrained. She knew the risk-they could be seen by palace staff, advisors, or worse, the Queen-but she felt rooted, unable to move.
Finally, she wrenched free and bolted, dashing down the corridor toward her room, muttering apologies and imagining the gasps if someone had caught that moment. Adrien stood still for a heartbeat, then allowed himself a small smile.
Turning, he nearly collided with Rowan, who had appeared silently at the corridor's edge. Rowan's eyes flicked between Adrien and the retreating Anastasia. "Well?" he asked, a knowing smirk on his face.
Adrien exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "She's... she's awake. And she knows... everything."
Rowan's smile widened. "I suspected. But... everything?"
Adrien nodded, his gaze hardening slightly. "Yes. I told her how I feel. About the nights we've shared, the truth about my heart. I told her she is the one I care for. I won't let anyone, trial or palace, hurt her again."
Rowan's expression softened, both relief and worry mingling in his eyes. "Good for you... but what about the trial? The Queen, the candidates... this will complicate matters."
Adrien straightened his shoulders, eyes gleaming with determination. "I will handle it. The only girl I marry, the only girl I allow beside me-that's her. No one else will claim her. And no one will hurt her heart. Not a single step in this palace will cause her pain because of me."
Rowan's smile turned genuine, proud. "Finally, I see the prince I've been waiting for. Confident. Sure of himself. And in love."
Adrien's lips curved in a small, determined smile. "I've been foolish before... hiding behind duty, pretending feelings could be ignored. No more. I choose her, Rowan. I choose love."
Rowan placed a hand on his friend's shoulder, squeezing it firmly. "Then I'll help you. Every step of the way. The trial, the palace politics, the whispers-whatever comes, I've got your back."
Adrien nodded, a sense of relief washing over him. For the first time, the burden of secrecy lifted slightly, replaced with certainty.
"And Anastasia?" Rowan asked quietly.
Adrien's smile softened, gentle and protective. "She'll never be alone. Not while I live. I'll give her all of me."
Rowan chuckled. "Good. Because she deserves nothing less."
Adrien exhaled deeply, ready to face the world-and the trials-with her by his side.
After racing to her room and closing the door, Anastasia leaned against it, heart still hammering. She had escaped Adrien's bold morning surprise, but her thoughts were tangled and racing. She didn't even notice when her sisters, Drizella and Cinderella, appeared at her door moments later.
"You're glowing!" Drizella exclaimed immediately, practically bouncing. "Seriously, Anastasia, what happened? You look like you swallowed sunlight!"
Cinderella giggled. "Yes, and not just any sunlight-like the kind that makes everyone stare. Tell us!"
Anastasia's cheeks heated. She tried to form words, but all she could manage at first was a quiet, "Nothing..."
Drizella's eyes narrowed playfully. "Nothing? That's impossible! You're acting different. You're... happy, sparkly, suspiciously happy. Did something happen in the garden? Did someone-"
Anastasia groaned, rubbing her forehead. "Stop pestering me! Fine! I... I can't keep it a secret anymore." She hesitated, feeling a mix of embarrassment and relief. "Adrien... he-he confessed. Everything. About his feelings. About... me."
Drizella's mouth fell open. "Wait. You mean the prince? THE prince? Adrien? He... he likes you?"
Cinderella's eyes widened. "You're joking."
"I wish I were," Anastasia said, covering her face with her hands. "He... he told me he loves me. He wants me to be... the one. The only one he'll marry. He... he doesn't want anyone else, no matter what the trial says. He promised he'll protect me from everything." She also told about prince being the guard Kit, his reasons, everything single details. Sisters code.
For a moment, the room was silent. Then Drizella squealed, hugging her sister tightly. "Anastasia! That's amazing! Finally! I knew it! I've been waiting for you to tell me!"
Cinderella laughed, clapping her hands together. "I can't believe this! Our Anastasia, in love with the prince-and he actually loves you back? This is unbelievable!"
Anastasia peeked through her fingers, seeing their joy. She smiled faintly. "I... I know it sounds crazy. I can hardly believe it myself."
They spent the next hour teasing, laughing, and asking endless questions about every tiny detail-how he confessed, what he said, how she felt, and whether she kissed him back. Anastasia answered as honestly as she could, her sisters bouncing between disbelief and delight.
But later, as night fell and the palace grew silent, Anastasia lay in her bed, her mind shifting. The joy from the morning lingered, but a shadow crept in.
What about the story?
Her fingers traced the edge of the blanket nervously. What if the tale she had lived in her transmigrated mind started diverging? What if the evil sister-her own role in the original story-married the prince instead of Cinderella? She had changed so much, tried to protect him, protect herself, protect Cinderella-but what would happen now?
Would the trials still decide a bride fairly? Would her actions somehow ruin everything?
Her chest tightened with worry. She had the love she never thought she'd have, but the story-the story of Cinderella, of the "villains," of all the arranged fate-still loomed over her mind.
And she wasn't sure if she could rest peacefully until she knew how it would all unfold.
For the first time since arriving in this world, happiness and fear intertwined. She loved him... but the consequences of her choices still lingered like shadows outside her window.
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