Tuk, unaware of the prince’s suspicions or how she had somehow become entangled with rebels she knew nothing about, innocently chewed on the jerky. Her thoughts drifted despite the warmth of the campfire. One of the warriors had given it to her, their usual laughter making her feel out of place—yet grateful. The meat was tough but filling, but no matter how much she tried to enjoy the moment, a tight unease lingered in her stomach.

She glanced toward the tent where the prince and his people were deep in discussion, their muffled voices just barely audible over the crackling fire. It was their second night in the road after leaving the hunting competition. Her eyes darted away when she felt it again—a prickling at the back of her neck, like she was being watched.

It wasn’t the first time. For days now, she’d felt this strange chill, an unshakable sense that eyes were following her even when she was alone. It was irrational, she told herself. But then again, maybe it wasn’t. Maybe her mind was just... unsettled.

She exhaled sharply, trying to focus on the warmth of the fire, the rough texture of the jerky in her hands. But even the sound of a bird’s wings flapping nearby made her flinch. Her heart raced as she stared at the shadows, trying to convince herself it was nothing. Why am I like this? she thought, gripping the jerky harder.

The memories clawed at her mind, uninvited. The blood, the shouting, the beast's glistening eyes ready to devour her whole. Her fingers twitched. It was already in the past, and she was saved but the fear lived inside her, coiled and waiting, ready to strike at moments like this.

“I’m going crazy,” she muttered under her breath, shaking her head as though she could dislodge the thoughts. “You’ve been here over a year now. Get a grip.”

Just then, Lord Nixon stepped out of the tent, his sharp gaze scanning the camp until it landed on her. Tuk froze. Her heart thudded painfully in her chest as a strange sense of déjà vu swept over her.

This again? she thought bitterly. He’s not going to drag me into something bloody again, is he?

Nixon’s gaze lingered, and Tuk felt herself shrink under its weight. Memories surged, unbidden—those same cold, calculating looks in the past, the ones that meant she was being pulled into something dangerous. She swallowed hard, her grip on the jerky tightening as if it could anchor her to this moment, away from the shadows clawing at her mind.

No. Not again. I don’t want this. I don’t want to be part of anything dangerous anymore.

But wanting and doing were two different things. No matter how much she wanted to run, her feet stayed planted. Running wouldn’t stop the nightmares, and it wouldn’t stop whatever comes next. Deep down, she knew better than to think fleeing was not an option. This wasn’t a world that allowed for escape.

If she truly wanted freedom—real freedom—she couldn’t afford a single misstep. The prince held the answers she needed, but she knew he wasn’t the kind of man to trust anyone easily. Letting her guard down wasn’t an option. Instead, she would have to find the cracks in his defenses and pry them open. Being his "love advisor" and a historian had given her just enough leverage to stay close, but it wasn’t enough. Not yet. She was still far from her goal, and every step forward felt like walking a razor’s edge. But each day brought her closer, and she refused to let fear stop her now.

“Historian, his highness is looking for you.”

Lord Nixon’s voice snapped her back to the present. His approach confirmed her suspicion. She’d been called again. Her instincts had been sharpening lately, honed by the ever-present danger that shadowed her. It was strange how survival pushed her senses to the edge. She could even sense the three small birds circling above, eyeing her jerky with a predator’s patience.

She sighed, pushing down the frustration bubbling inside her. Focus. Just get through this.

Before following Nixon, she tossed the remaining piece of jerky into the air. The birds swooped down, their tiny wings fluttering wildly as they snatched their prize.

Watching them, a faint smile crossed her lips. Small birds like these were harmless. If only all the predators in this world were that simple.

But her smile faded as her thoughts turned to the griffin. The memory of its razor-sharp talons and piercing cry sent a chill down her spine. I hope I never see a beast like that again.

Tuk straightened her shoulders, forcing herself to step forward. She couldn’t afford to let fear control her—not now. As she entered the tent, the warmth of the fire faded, replaced by the cold, calculating stares of the prince.

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One step closer to the truth, she told herself. One step closer to freedom.

[[ Tuk's POV ]]

As I step inside the tent, the air feels heavier, like the heat of a furnace pressing against my skin. But it's not the temperature—it's the presence of the three men inside. The prince sits at the center, exuding his usual smug composure. Beside him is Lord Nixon, and next to him stands a man I don’t recognize, but one thing was certain—he was dangerous.

I take a gulp, forcing myself not to waver under his gaze. His icy gray eyes glow faintly, piercing me as though they could read my every thought. His face is adorned with tribal tattoos, and his hair—a tight braid with a shaved undercut—makes him look fierce, like a predator in waiting. The fur draped over his shoulders and the heavy earrings he wears speak of a cold, distant land, far removed from the heat of this tent. Tribal, dangerous, and likely deadly. Ignore him. Just pretend he doesn’t exist.

“Your Highness, you summoned me?” I ask, trying not to let my voice betray my nerves. My eyes flick toward the tattooed man again. Who is this guy, and why does he look like he could kill me with a sneeze?

“That’s right,” the prince says, his voice light but laced with something sinister. “It seems the emperor is… displeased with how we’ve chosen to implement the courting rule among the nobles.” His smile sharpens, carrying that familiar, unsettling glee. “Naturally, I’ve been summoned to explain it. Which made me think—why not invite the very person who suggested the idea?”

The smile he flashes me is infuriating. Oh no, not this again. I force a smile in return, but my thoughts run wild. The emperor?! Are you out of your mind? That’s the same old tyrant who nearly got me executed! Why are you dragging me into this? Fix your own mess, Your Highness. You’re the prince, for goodness’ sake!

“What do you think? Wouldn’t this be a good time to showcase the talents of my 'love advisor'?” The prince’s teasing tone jolts me back to reality. Oh, I am going to punch him. I really am.

“If I may, Your Highness,” I begin, masking my panic with a polite smile, “I think it’s best to inform His Imperial Majesty that your curiosity about love stems from our research on the Arcanographica. My presence isn’t necessary for this discussion.”

“Hmm… Is that so?” The prince tilts his head, feigning consideration. “But how can I explain the Arcanographica when I don’t understand it myself? Didn’t you say the matter of the heart is like the scroll to me—something I can’t comprehend?”

He’s doing this on purpose, didn't he?

“Of course, Your Highness,” I reply with the sweetest tone I can muster, “we can send His Imperial Majesty the transcribed scrolls. We historians have worked tirelessly, sacrificing our sleep to decode them. I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to see our progress.”

The prince’s smirk deepens. “What do you think?” he asks, shifting his gaze to the tattooed man standing nearby.

Who is this man? And why does his opinion matter so much to the prince?

“Negative,” the man says after a tense pause. “She currently shows no signs of deception.”

The prince’s smirk sharpens, his satisfaction almost tangible. “Good,” he says, his tone laced with amusement. “See? Even the Chieftain of the North Hibrido, Kaelrik, finds your words trustworthy.”

'Is he like a human detector test or something?' The tattooed man steps back, but his piercing gaze lingers on me—a silent warning I can’t ignore.

“Your Highness,” Kaelrik says, breaking the prince’s lingering stare, “if there’s nothing else...”

“Ah, yes, of course. Thank you for coming all this way, Kaelrik. I leave the matter with Hibrido to you.” The prince dismisses him with a wave, his attention briefly shifting.

My knees feel weak the moment his gaze lifts from me, but I force myself to remain standing, refusing to show weakness.

“Nixon,” the prince calls out, turning to his advisor. “Does this answer your suspicion?”

Lord Nixon bows low, his voice steeped in contrition. “I apologize for acting without your permission, Your Highness. Thank you for your patience.”

I blink, glancing between the two of them as they share a silent exchange laden with unspoken meaning. What is even happening right now?

If you two are just going to exchange loving gazes, why call me here in the first place?!