The garden was the only place that didn't feel like it was holding its breath.
Inside, corridors were thick with voices and footsteps—servants hurrying, stewards arguing over lists, guests arriving in waves. Outside, in the walled garden, there was only the quiet drip of a fountain and the soft rustle of late-blooming vines in the chill air.
Elissa sat on a stone bench, gloved hands tucked under her cloak. Her rose‑pink gown peeked out at the hem, a soft bit of color against the grey paths.
Martha stood a few steps away, shawl wrapped tight, watching the nearest archway like it might grow fangs.
Two castle guards lingered discreetly at the garden entrance—one older, solid and silent; one younger, trying very hard not to look curious every time Elissa shifted. A house helper, Lysa, quietly swept fallen leaves from the path, staying within sight but out of earshot.
Kestrel had been swallowed by duty hours ago, dragged into greeting visiting lords and managing seating arguments before they started.
"Breathe," Martha said gently, glancing back at Elissa. "You're wringing that glove like you mean to strangle it."
Elissa loosened her fingers. "I just needed air," she said. "Inside, everyone's…loud."
"That's nobles before a ball," Martha said. "All silk and nerves."
She turned her head and called softly, "Lysa, once you're done there, check the hallway torches. And someone needs to bring fresh linens to the princess's room before evening."
"Yes, Martha," Lysa said at once. She dipped a quick curtsey to Elissa without quite meeting her eyes and scurried off, already muttering the list under her breath.
The older guard shifted his stance, eyes scanning the wall tops out of habit. The younger one gave Elissa a quick, clumsy nod when she glanced his way.
"You can walk a little, if you like," Martha said. "But stay where Jem and Roland can see you." She nodded at the guards. "Prince's orders."
"I know," Elissa said softly. She didn't resent it. Not exactly. It just made her feel…fragile. "I won't run off."
Martha's mouth softened. "I know you won't. Still. I'll follow."
Elissa rose and walked slowly along the path bordering the flowerbeds. Most of the blooms were gone, but some stubborn winter roses still clung to the thorns, pale and sharp-scented. She reached out and brushed one lightly with the back of her glove.
She didn't hear the footsteps until they were almost upon her.
It was Jem, the older guard, who straightened first.
"Your Highness," he said quietly. "Guest approaching."
Martha moved without panic but with purpose, coming to Elissa's side. The younger guard, Roland, subtly shifted so he was between the archway and the two women, hand resting near the hilt of his sword—not drawn, but ready.
A figure stepped through the stone arch, laughter from the inner corridors fading behind him like a curtain falling.
He wore a long dark coat trimmed in silver, his hair swept back neatly. His eyes—deep maroon, almost black at this distance—swept the garden with idle curiosity before settling on Elissa.
He smiled.
"Forgive the intrusion," he said, voice smooth and warm. "I was told the gardens were quiet. No one mentioned they were guarded like a treasury."
Martha's shoulders stiffened. "The princess is under the king's protection," she said. "As are all guests of the court."
"Ah." His gaze flicked to the guards, then back to Elissa. He didn't look offended. If anything, he looked entertained. "Then I will be very careful."
He bowed, just enough to be respectful without seeming submissive.
"Prince Lucius Everhart of the Eastern Court," he said. "At your service."
Roland's eyes widened slightly. Jem didn't move, but his jaw tightened.
Elissa took a steadying breath and dipped into a small curtsey.
"Princess Elissa Starwind," she said. "Welcome to the north, Prince Lucius."
"Starwind," he repeated, turning the name over like he was tasting it. "A poetic name. It suits you better than most of the stories I've heard."
Martha stepped half a pace closer, not blocking Elissa but making it very clear she wasn't alone.
"Stories?" Elissa asked, trying to keep her voice level.
Lucius's smile curved. "You've become something of a favorite topic in the corridors," he said. "The southern witch the prophecy dragged north. Some say you're dangerous. Others say you're disappointing. Personally, ... I prefer not to decide until I've actually met someone."
"Refreshing," Martha muttered under her breath.
Elissa's cheeks warmed. "And now that you've met me?" she asked before she could stop herself.
Lucius studied her openly for a heartbeat—the soft pink of her gown, the cautious lift of her chin, the guards hovering, Martha standing firm at her side.
"You're…unexpected," he said. "Which is much better than disappointing."
Roland relaxed by a hair. Jem didn't.
"Prince Lucius," Martha said calmly, "the princess is taking a short walk. The king has asked that she not be overtaxed before the ball."
Lucius inclined his head to her. "Of course." He looked back at Elissa. "I won't keep you long, Princess. I only wished to offer my greetings…before the hall swallows you tomorrow night."
Elissa couldn't help a small, shy huff of laughter. "Is it that bad?" she asked.
"For some, the ball is a battlefield," he said lightly. "For others, a stage. For a few, a trap." His eyes glinted. "I suspect, for you, it will be all three."
"Comforting," Martha said dryly.
Lucius's smile turned sheepish for a moment. "My apologies. I forget not everyone enjoys honesty."
He took a half-step back, giving the guards their space again.
"In any case," he said, "I hope we'll have a chance to talk again tomorrow, Princess Starwind. Without making your guardians nervous."
His gaze flicked once more to Jem and Roland, then to Martha, clearly recognizing who really ran this little corner of the world.
"We'll see," Martha said.
Elissa found herself saying, "Perhaps," before she could think better of it.
Lucius's smile sharpened in pleased surprise. He bowed once more, then turned and slipped back through the archway, his footsteps fading toward the noise of the castle.
For a moment, the garden was quiet again.
Roland let out a breath he'd clearly been holding. "He was…polite," he said uncertainly.
"That one's polite like knives are shiny," Jem muttered.
Martha turned to Elissa, eyes searching her face. "You all right?"
Elissa nodded slowly. "He's…different from the nobles I've met here," she said.
"Different isn't the same as safe," Martha said. She reached to straighten the edge of Elissa's cloak. "Remember that."
Elissa glanced toward the archway where Lucius had disappeared, then back to the fountain, its water whispering over stone.
"I know," she said quietly. "That's why you're here."
Martha's mouth softened. "That's right. Me, and half the castle."
She raised her voice slightly. "Roland, go find Lysa and have her send up that basket of fruit to the princess's room. And tell the scullery I want hot water ready when we return. We'll be back indoors soon."
"Yes, Martha," Roland said quickly, already moving.
Jem resumed his silent watch, eyes fixed on the walls.