Breakfast was much quieter than the night before. The clatter of cutlery, the soft murmur of conversations, the occasional low laugh—that was all. No open stares. No obvious barbs. No one even raised their voice.
It ended, Elissa thought, almost peacefully.
Servants moved in to clear dishes. Chairs scraped back. Guests began to drift away in little clusters—men toward the parlour to discuss politics, trade, and whatever else powerful men pretended was important; women toward the gardens or the ladies' parlour, where gossip would bloom faster than any flower.
Elissa and Kestrel left the dining hall together, climbing the first set of stairs toward the guest wing.
"Kestrel," a clear voice called from behind them.
They turned. Lady Seraphina—Kestrel's aunt—stood near the landing, surrounded by two younger ladies and a maid carrying her shawl. Seraphina's eyes went straight to Kestrel.
"Kestrel, my dear," she said, gliding closer. "I was hoping to steal you for a while. There's something I wish to discuss before tonight."
Kestrel's brows drew together for a heartbeat. She glanced at Elissa. "Now?"
Seraphina smiled with practiced sweetness. "Unless you're terribly occupied?"
Kestrel looked back at Elissa, clearly torn. "I can walk you up first," she offered. "It'll only take a moment."
Elissa shook her head at once. "It's all right," she said. "Go. I know the way."
"Are you sure?" Kestrel asked quietly.
"Yes," Elissa said, giving her a small, steady smile. "I promise I'll go straight to my room. No wandering. No trouble."
Kestrel didn't quite relax. "You say that like you believe it."
"I'll be fine," Elissa insisted with a smile. "Martha will be waiting to complain that I didn't eat enough."
That earned a real, if small, smile from Kestrel. "All right," she said. "Straight to your room. If you're not there when I come looking, I'll start kicking doors."
"I fully believe you," Elissa murmured.
Kestrel gave her arm a brief squeeze, then turned to her aunt. "Very well, Aunt Seraphina. You have me."
Seraphina looped her arm through Kestrel's, already launching into something about seating arrangements and suitable partners for the ball as they walked away.
Elissa continued up the stairs alone.
The castle felt different without the crowd—quieter, but not empty. Here and there, a servant passed with a tray or a bundle of linens. Voices echoed faintly from distant rooms, blurred and harmless.
She turned into the first corridor leading toward her wing.
As she stepped into the long passageway, a young maid rounded the corner from the opposite direction, walking too quickly for the weight of the tray in her hands.
The tray was crowded with a small vase of pale flowers, a cup, and a narrow glass bottle of some cloudy liquid tucked half under a folded cloth.
They saw each other too late.
"Oh!" Elissa started, trying to step aside.
The maid's eyes went wide. "I'm so sorry—!"
The tray tilted. The vase slid, water sloshing over the edge. Something cool and scented splashed across Elissa's wrist and the front of her dress.
She stumbled back a step, catching herself against the wall.
The little glass bottle on the tray wobbled dangerously, then tipped. The maid snatched it at the last second, fingers closing around the neck before it could shatter on the stone.
Water and bruised petals scattered over the floor.
Elissa stared down at the faintly damp patch on her skirt and the drops clinging to her skin. It smelled…sweet. Too sweet. Like overripe flowers mixed with something sharp underneath.
"I'm so sorry, my lady," the maid babbled, pale and flustered. "I didn't see you—please forgive me—these were for one of the ladies—oh, I've ruined your dress—"
"It's all right," Elissa said quickly, though her heart was still thudding from the jolt. "It's only water. And a few flowers."
She glanced at the maid's hands. The girl clutched the rescued bottle protectively, almost too tightly, as if it mattered more than the spilled vase.
The maid followed her look and pulled it a little closer to her chest. "This is…for the lady's bath, my lady," she said, stumbling over her words. "Scented oil. Strong. I'm sorry it touched your gown. It shouldn't stain."
Elissa's skin still tingled faintly where the splash had hit her wrist.
"It's fine," she repeated, though the smell was already making her a little lightheaded in the enclosed corridor. "Really. I should have been watching where I was going."
The maid dropped into a quick curtsy, eyes not quite meeting Elissa's. "You're very kind, my lady. I will clean this at once."
She knelt to gather the fallen petals with shaking fingers, still holding the bottle protectively with one hand. "Please, don't trouble yourself. I'll make it right."
"It's nothing to make right," Elissa said, stepping carefully around the small puddle. "Be careful on the stairs. That's all."
"Yes, my lady," the maid whispered.
As Elissa walked away, the scent clung faintly to her—cloying sweetness with an undercurrent she couldn't name. Her vision felt a little too bright. Or maybe the corridor had always been this bright and she was only now noticing.
Behind her, the maid straightened slowly, watching Elissa's back for a second too long before turning the other way, bottle still safe in her grasp.
Downstairs, near one of the side doors of the great hall, Prince Lucius was speaking quietly with a northern minister about some trade route along the eastern passes.
His attention was on the man's words—until a faint scent and a small movement over the minister's shoulder tugged at the edge of his awareness.
At the far end of the corridor that led toward the guest stairs, he caught a brief glimpse: Elissa disappearing around a corner, alone. A maid moving away in the opposite direction, glancing back once before hurrying off far too quickly.
Lucius's brows drew together for a moment.
"Prince Lucius?" the minister prompted. "As I was saying—"
"My apologies," Lucius cut in smoothly, forcing his features back into polite interest. "I'm afraid I must excuse myself. We can continue this later."
The minister looked faintly offended but bowed. "Of course, Your Highness."
Lucius stepped away, his expression still calm, but something sharper moving under his skin now.
He took the stairs two at a time, listening. The upper corridor was quiet—too quiet for a castle full of guests. As he turned into the first passage, he slowed.
Halfway down, near a narrow window, Elissa stood with one hand gripping the stone sill. Her other hand was braced on the wall. Her head was bowed, eyes closed, as if the world had become too heavy to hold up.
Her body swayed, just enough to tell him she wasn't entirely aware of it.
"Princess?" Lucius said softly, quickening his steps.
She didn't answer.
He reached her just as her knees buckled a little. He caught her wrist with one hand, the other sliding instinctively to her back to steady her.
"Easy," he murmured. "I've got you."
Her skin felt too warm under his fingers. Her breathing was shallow, uneven. Her lashes fluttered, but her eyes didn't quite open.
"Princess Elissa," he said, a little more firmly. "Can you hear me?"
She made a faint sound, not quite a word. Her fingers curled weakly around the iron bars of the window.
"I need to get you to your room," Lucius said, more to himself than to her. "Can you tell me where it is?"
She tried. Her lips moved, breath ghosting against his collar. He leaned closer, straining to catch it.
"…left…" she whispered. Or something close to it.
"Left," he repeated quietly. "All right."
He shifted his arm more securely around her, taking some of her weight, careful to keep his touch steady but respectful. He guided her down the corridor in the direction she'd indicated, scanning for anyone who might know where her rooms were.
The castle, unhelpfully, remained mostly empty.
At the middle of the next passage, a young man came toward them from the opposite side. He walked with the unhurried confidence of a high-born. He had dark hair and red eyes has a different spark.
Prince Mack.
He slowed when he saw them—and then stopped completely, his face tightening with a recognition that shouldn't have been there.
"Princess?" he blurted, then looked up at Lucius, alarmed. "What happened?"
"I don't know," Lucius said honestly. "I found her like this, near the window. I need to get her to her chambers, but I don't know which door is hers. Do you bring anyone who knows?"
"Huhh," Mack snapped back and said at once. " I do, I know her room. This way."