Four months.
Elena Hart had been in the capital for four months.
Long enough to become familiar.
Long enough to become important.
Long enough that hearing her name no longer surprised anyone.
Marian hated that realization.
Not because she disliked Elena.
Because she didn’t.
That was the problem.
It would have been easier if Elena were awful.
Cruel.
Manipulative.
Ambitious.
Instead, she was frustratingly kind.
Frustratingly sincere.
Frustratingly easy to like.
A terrible quality in a potential romantic rival.
The capital bustled beneath the late summer sun.
Carriages moved through crowded streets.
Merchants filled the marketplaces.
Nobles prepared for the upcoming Harvest Gala.
Life continued.
As it always did.
Meanwhile, Marian sat across from Adrian.
Watching him.
The realization annoyed her immediately.
Because she wasn’t trying to watch him.
She simply kept noticing things.
Small things.
Little things.
The sort of things one only noticed after knowing someone for nearly two decades.
"You’ve changed your tea."
Adrian looked up.
"What?"
"Your tea."
The Crown Prince glanced at the cup beside him.
Then looked confused.
"It’s tea."
"No."
Marian pointed.
"That’s mint."
A pause.
Then:
"Yes."
The answer sounded cautious.
As though he sensed danger.
A wise instinct.
"You hate mint."
"I don’t hate mint."
"You absolutely hate mint."
Adrian blinked.
Once.
Then twice.
And to Marian’s astonishment—
He looked genuinely surprised.
As though he had forgotten.
The realization landed strangely.
"Since when do you drink mint tea?"
A tiny pause followed.
Barely noticeable.
Then:
"Miss Hart recommended it."
There it was.
Again.
The name.
Always the name.
Marian smiled.
Because years of noble training remained useful.
"Is that so?"
"Apparently it’s good for concentration."
The explanation sounded perfectly reasonable.
The problem was that Marian wasn’t thinking about the tea.
She was thinking about the pause.
And the fact that Adrian had forgotten he hated mint.
The conversation continued.
At least on the surface.
Reports.
Events.
The upcoming gala.
Ordinary things.
Yet Marian found herself noticing more.
Adrian spoke differently.
Not dramatically.
Subtly.
He listened less.
Not because he didn’t care.
Because part of his attention seemed elsewhere.
The change was tiny.
Almost invisible.
Yet once Marian noticed it, she couldn’t stop noticing.
A terrifying discovery.
Because she suddenly realized something.
She had spent years believing she knew Adrian better than anyone.
And she did.
Which was exactly why these tiny changes frightened her.
Someone else might not see them.
She did.
"You’re staring again."
Marian blinked.
"What?"
Adrian smiled faintly.
"That’s the third time."
Traitor.
Complete traitor.
The man noticed everything.
Usually.
A bitter thought.
One she immediately dismissed.
Because it wasn’t fair.
Not yet.
"I’m thinking."
"A dangerous activity."
"I know."
The familiar exchange should have comforted her.
Instead, it made something inside her ache.
Because it sounded exactly the same.
Yet somehow felt different.
How annoying.
Later that afternoon, Adrian was summoned away.
Again.
Naturally.
The Empire seemed determined to consume him one meeting at a time.
Marian remained behind.
Watching him leave.
A habit she’d never really questioned before.
Then she froze.
Because a memory surfaced unexpectedly.
Not a recent memory.
An old one.
From years ago.
She had been sixteen.
Adrian seventeen.
Still too young.
Still too serious.
They had been walking through these same gardens.
And Adrian had stopped suddenly.
"What’s wrong?"
He had looked at her.
Then said:
"Nothing.
I just wanted another minute."
The memory arrived so clearly that Marian almost laughed.
Back then she had thought him ridiculous.
Romantic.
Hopelessly romantic.
Very Adrian.
Now she watched his retreating figure disappear through the doorway.
And a terrible thought appeared.
When was the last time he’d asked for another minute?
The answer didn’t come.
Because she didn’t know.
And that frightened her more than it should have.
That evening, Marian attended a small gathering hosted by Countess Everett.
Unfortunately.
The Countess possessed opinions.
A dangerous trait.
"So."
Marian immediately became suspicious.
The Countess smiled.
Even more suspicious.
"What?"
"Nothing."
A lie.
Obviously.
"What."
The older woman stirred her tea.
Looking entirely too innocent.
"I saw Adrian yesterday."
Marian felt herself tense.
Just slightly.
A reaction she hated.
Because it implied weakness.
The Countess noticed immediately.
Of course she did.
"He’s working too hard."
Relief washed through Marian.
Briefly.
Then vanished.
Because the Countess continued:
"And Miss Hart seems to be helping considerably."
There it was.
Again.
The name.
Marian smiled politely.
The Countess studied her.
Carefully.
Thoughtfully.
Then changed the subject.
Which somehow felt worse.
Because suddenly Marian wondered:
What had the Countess seen?
And why hadn’t she said it?
Much later that night, Marian stood before her bedroom window.
The capital glittered below.
Beautiful.
Distant.
Unreachable.
A cool breeze drifted through the room.
Marian barely noticed.
Because she was thinking.
A dangerous activity.
As Adrian often reminded her.
The truth was simple.
Nothing had happened.
No betrayal.
No confession.
No scandal.
No broken promises.
Nothing.
And yet.
And yet.
For the first time since arriving in this world—
Marian found herself afraid.
Not of Elena.
Not really.
Not even of losing Adrian.
She was afraid of something much worse.
That perhaps she was no longer the first person Adrian thought of.
The possibility felt ridiculous.
Absurd.
Impossible.
Yet once the thought entered her mind—
It refused to leave.
And somewhere else in the capital, Adrian sat beneath candlelight.
Reading reports.
Working late.
Doing exactly what he believed was right.
Completely unaware that every reasonable choice he made was slowly creating an unreasonable distance between himself and the woman who loved him.