The summons arrived like a blade wrapped in velvet.
Aliena was seated in the eastern sitting room with her stepsisters when the palace messenger appeared, his uniform crisp, posture impeccable.
He bowed low, eyes respectfully averted, though the weight of the moment pressed heavily on the air.
“Lady Aliena, daughter of Duke Edward,” he announced, voice carrying clearly, “His Highness, Crown Prince Sebastian, requests your presence in his chambers.”
Silence.
It was the kind of silence that rang in the ears.
Lydia’s teacup froze halfway to her lips.
Helena’s smile faltered for the briefest fraction of a second, so quick one might miss it if they weren’t watching closely.
Hermia, seated beside Aliena, turned slowly, her eyes widening with something between delight and disbelief.
Aliena blinked.
Once.
Then twice.
“My… presence?” she echoed faintly, certain she had misheard.
“Yes, my lady,” the messenger said smoothly.
“Immediately.”
Immediately.
That single word struck harder than the rest.
Lydia was the first to recover.
“How… interesting,” she said, setting her teacup down with exaggerated care.
“The Crown Prince’s chambers are not exactly a casual destination.”
Helena tilted her head, eyes sharp and assessing as she studied Aliena from head to toe.
“Perhaps he’s mistaken.
Surely he meant one of us.”
The messenger did not react.
He did not even glance in their direction.
His attention remained fixed on Aliena.
Hermia’s lips twitched.
“Seems quite certain to me.”
Aliena felt her pulse hammering beneath her ribs.
The memory of the forest flickered unbidden, moonlight, shadows, Sebastian’s voice low and controlled.
Her fingers curled into the fabric of her skirt.
“May I… may I change?” Aliena asked, suddenly acutely aware of her simple dress.
The messenger hesitated.
“His Highness did not specify, but—”
“She’ll change,” Lydia cut in smoothly, rising to her feet.
“One cannot present oneself before the Crown Prince looking… unpolished.”
Sebastian’s voice echoed in Aliena’s mind, cool and commanding.
Do not waste time.
“I’ll go as I am,” Aliena said, surprising even herself.
Helena’s brows lifted.
“Bold.”
Hermia squeezed Aliena’s hand discreetly.
“You’ll be fine.”
Lydia’s smile sharpened.
“Do be careful, sister.
His Highness is not known for patience… or mercy.”
The messenger bowed once more.
“If you would follow me, my lady.”
Aliena stood, smoothing her skirt, heart racing.
She felt their eyes on her back as she walked toward the door, curiosity, envy, calculation.
Hermia’s gaze was the only one that carried warmth.
The corridor outside felt longer than usual.
Every step echoed.
Every heartbeat thundered.
When they finally reached Sebastian’s chambers, the guards at the doors straightened immediately.
One knocked once, sharply.
Aliena knew something was terribly wrong the moment the palace attendant stopped in front of that corridor.
Not the east wing.
Not the council hall.
Not even the training quarters.
The Crown Prince’s private chambers.
She stared at the double doors, tall and dark and carved with sigils older than the kingdom itself.
“…You’re certain?” she asked faintly.
The attendant bowed.
“His Highness was very clear.”
That did not reassure her.
The doors opened before she could reconsider fleeing.
Warm candlelight spilled out, bathing the stone corridor in gold.
The scent of old parchment, polished steel, and something unmistakably Sebastian, cool, sharp, faintly dangerous, wrapped around her as she stepped inside.
The doors shut behind her.
Oh.
Saints preserve me.
Sebastian stood near his desk, sleeves rolled up, dark hair slightly disheveled as though he’d dragged his hands through it one too many times.
He looked… less like a prince and more like a man who had been losing an argument with himself.
He glanced up.
“You’re late.”
Aliena blinked.
“I arrived exactly when I was summoned.”
“You hesitated outside.”
She flushed.
“I was… mentally preparing.”
“For what?”
“For being executed,” she said honestly.
Sebastian stared at her.
Then very slowly he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.
“I should stop summoning you like a criminal.”
“That would be lovely,” she agreed.
“My heart can only survive so many near-death experiences in one lifetime.”
His lips twitched despite himself.
“Come here,” he said.
Her feet did not move.
“…Why?”
Sebastian lifted an eyebrow.
“You survived demons.
But standing near me terrifies you?”
“Yes,” she said without hesitation.
“You’re significantly more unpredictable.”
A pause.
Then he laughed.
Actually laughed.
It was soft and brief, like he hadn’t meant to, like the sound surprised even him.
Aliena froze.
“You do that?” she asked.
“Apparently,” he replied dryly.
“Do not spread it around.”
She smiled despite herself and finally approached, stopping a cautious distance away.
“Yes, Your Highness?” she asked sweetly.
He studied her for a moment.
Really studied her.
Then said, “Sit.”
She glanced around.
“On the chair or the floor?
I want to be clear before I embarrass myself.”
“The chair,” he said.
“I’m not a monster.”
“That’s debatable.”
Her eyes widened.
“I didn’t mean—”
“I know,” he said, amused.
“Sit.”
She sat.
Sebastian leaned against the desk, arms folded.
“You’ve been avoiding me.”
“I have not.”
“You walk faster when you see me.”
“That’s coincidence.”
“You turned into a statue yesterday.”
“I was… appreciating architecture.”
He hummed.
“You tripped over a rug.”
“It attacked me first.”
The silence wasn’t heavy.
It was… strange.
Comfortable.
Like a shared joke neither of them quite understood yet.
“Why did you summon me?” Aliena asked gently.
Sebastian’s expression shifted, subtle, but she noticed.
The humor faded, replaced by something quieter.
“I wanted to see if you were still angry with me.”
Her brow furrowed.
“For saving my life?”
“For pretending you didn’t exist afterward.”
“Oh.” She hesitated.
“That part, yes.
I mean I have no right to be angry, you are the Crown Prince after all.”
He nodded once.
“Fair.”
She tilted her head.
“You do that a lot.”
“Do what?”
“Disappear emotionally.”
His jaw tightened.
“It is… safer.”
“For who?”
He didn’t answer.
Instead, he said, “Your honesty is inconvenient.”
She smiled.
“So I’ve been told.”
Sebastian moved closer, stopping just in front of her.
Not too close.
Close enough that she could see the faint gold flecks in his crimson eyes.
“You make jokes when you’re nervous,” he said.
“You make observations when you’re uncomfortable.”
“…Touché.”
She shifted in her chair.
“Am I in trouble?”
“No.”
“Am I being lectured?”
“No.”
“Am I free to leave?”
“…Eventually.”
She laughed.
“You’re terrible at reassuring people.”
“I’m not trying to reassure you.”
“Then what are you trying to do?”
Sebastian hesitated.
That alone was shocking.
“I’m trying,” he said slowly, “to understand why you unsettle me.”
Her heart skipped.
She opened her mouth.
Closed it.
Then said, “Have you tried ignoring me again?”
His gaze darkened slightly.
“That did not work.”
“No,” she admitted.
“It didn’t.”
They stood there, suspended between humor and something far more dangerous.
Sebastian exhaled.
“You should be afraid of me.”
She shrugged.
“I was.
Then you carried me through a forest and told demons to run.”
“…That would complicate things.”
“It did,” she said.
“Immensely.”
He stared at her, searching her face for something, fear, reverence, expectation.
He found none.
Instead, he found warmth.
And it terrified him.
“You don’t look at me like everyone else,” he said quietly.
She frowned.
“How does everyone else look at you?”
“Like a crown,” he replied.
“Heavy.
Untouchable.”
“And how do I look at you?”
He met her gaze.
“Like a person.”
Her breath caught.
“Well,” she said softly, “you are.”
He reached out before he could stop himself, then froze, hand hovering near hers.
She looked at it.
Then up at him.
“Sebastian?”
Prince Sebastian had realized that within a short period of time, Aliena had gotten used to calling him without titles.
He withdrew his hand abruptly, stepping back.
“You should go.”
She stood slowly.
“You summoned me.”
“And I am dismissing you.”
She hesitated.
“Are you… all right?”
“No,” he said honestly.
“But I will be.”
She smiled gently.
“You don’t have to be alone.”
He turned away.
“Yes.
I do.”
She walked to the door, then paused.
“For what it’s worth,” she said, “I don’t regret the forest.”
Neither did he.
The door closed behind her.
Sebastian stood very still in the quiet chamber, heart racing, jaw clenched.
“This is a mistake,” he muttered.
And for the first time in centuries, he hoped he was wrong.
_________
The training grounds were alive with noise.
Steel clashed against steel, instructors barked orders, and laughter rose in short bursts from nobles who treated training like a spectacle rather than a necessity.
The palace grounds stretched wide beneath a cloudless sky, banners fluttering in the breeze, dust kicked up by boots and hooves alike.
Aliena stood near the archery range, adjusting the leather guard on her wrist for the third time.
It was too loose.
No, too tight.
She sighed and tried again.
“You’re going to strangle your hand at this rate.”
She looked up to find Prince Miquel standing beside her, arms crossed, expression somewhere between amused and curious.
She remembered him and how he held her shoulder complaining that she was too light.
She smiled at the memory.
“Oh,” she said, startled.
“I didn’t hear you, your highness”
“That’s because you’re glaring at your own arm like it personally offended you.”
She laughed despite herself.
“It keeps slipping.”
“May I?” he asked, already reaching for the strap.
She hesitated, just for a second then nodded.
“If you promise not to make it worse.”
“I am wounded by your lack of faith,” Miquel replied lightly, fingers deft as he adjusted the guard with practiced ease.
“There.
Perfect.”
She flexed her hand.
“Oh.
That actually helped.
Thank you.”
“So… training with my brother.
How is that going?”
“Intimidating,” Aliena said honestly.
“Educational.
Occasionally life-threatening.”
Miquel chuckled.
“That sounds like Sebastian.”
Across the field, Sebastian froze.
He had been demonstrating proper stance to another trainee when he noticed them—Aliena laughing softly, her posture relaxed, her attention wholly on Miquel.
On him.
Sebastian’s grip tightened on the bow in his hand.
Unacceptable.
He told himself it was tactical awareness.
That Miquel was unpredictable.
That Aliena was inexperienced and vulnerable to manipulation.
None of that explained the sharp twist in his chest.
“Is something wrong, Your Highness?” the trainee asked nervously.
“No,” Sebastian replied curtly.
“Continue.”
But his eyes didn’t leave them.
Miquel leaned casually closer.
“You’re calmer today.
Yesterday you looked like you were waiting for the ground to swallow you.”
“Today I’ve accepted my fate,” Aliena said solemnly.
“If I perish, at least it will be in daylight.”
Miquel laughed.
“You’re amusing.”
Sebastian’s jaw clenched.
Amusing.
He strode toward them without thinking.
“Lady Aliena.”
Both turned.
Aliena straightened instantly.
“Yes, Your Highness?”
Miquel lifted a brow.
“Brother.”
Sebastian ignored him completely.
“You are meant to be practicing,” Sebastian said coolly.
“I was,” Aliena replied.
“Prince Miquel was helping me with my gear.”
Sebastian’s gaze flicked briefly, very briefly to Miquel’s hand near her wrist.
“Unnecessary,” Sebastian said flatly.
“Step away.”
Miquel’s smile sharpened.
“I was merely being helpful.”
Sebastian’s eyes finally met his.
“You have never been ‘merely’ anything.”
The air tightened.
Aliena glanced between them.
“Did I… miss something?”
“No,” Sebastian said.
“But you will, if you do not focus.”
“Yes, sir,” she said quickly, then paused.
“Your Highness.”
Miquel chuckled.
“You’re very strict with her.”
“I am strict with everyone,” Sebastian replied.
Aliena raised an eyebrow.
“You laughed with me earlier.”
Sebastian stiffened.
Miquel blinked.
Slowly.
Then smiled widely.
“Oh?” he said.
“Did you now?”
Sebastian shot Aliena a warning look.
She smiled innocently.
“Briefly.”
Miquel looked delighted.
“I would have paid to see that.”
“You would have been disappointed,” Sebastian snapped.
“It was a mistake.”
Aliena frowned.
“I didn’t think it was.”
Silence.
Sebastian stared at her.
Then calmly, dangerously, he turned back to Miquel.
“Leave us.”
Miquel’s eyes flicked to Aliena, then back to Sebastian.
“You don’t own her.”
“No,” Sebastian agreed.
“But I am training her.”
“Pity,” Miquel said lightly.
“I was enjoying the conversation.”
Sebastian stepped closer, voice low.
“That is precisely the problem.”
For a moment, Miquel looked genuinely surprised.
Then intrigued.
“I see,” he murmured.
“So that’s how it is.”
Sebastian said nothing.
Aliena’s heart pounded.
“Your Highness, I—”
“Continue your training,” Sebastian said sharply, then added, quieter, “With me.”
Miquel studied them both, then smiled slowly.
“Very well.
I’ll leave you to it.” He dipped his head toward Aliena.
“Until next time, Lady Aliena.”
She nodded politely.
“Thank you… for the help.”
Miquel walked away, whistling faintly.
Sebastian watched him go.
Then exhaled through his teeth.
“That,” he said, turning to Aliena, “was inappropriate.”
She crossed her arms.
“He fixed my wrist guard.”
“I could have done that.”
“You didn’t.”
“I would have.”
She tilted her head.
“Are you… jealous?”
Sebastian stared at her.
“I do not experience jealousy.”
“You interrupted us.”
“Because he distracts.”
“So do I.”
“…Yes,” he admitted tightly.
Her lips curved.
“You’re terrible at hiding it.”
“I am not jealous,” he repeated.
She picked up her bow.
“You absolutely are.”
He stepped closer, lowering his voice.
“Do not encourage it.”
“Why not?”
“Because,” he said, eyes dark, “it makes me reckless.”
Her breath hitched.
“Oh,” she said softly.
“That sounds… dangerous.”
“It is.”
She smiled anyway.
And Sebastian realized, with growing horror that it wasn’t Miquel he was afraid of.
It was himself.