That night, the dormitory’s stillness felt heavier. The faint snores and restless murmurs of the other maids swallowed by the weight of Cassie’s thoughts. She lay on her narrow bunk, eyes fixed on the iron ceiling beam above, its chipped paint flaking like the palace’s polished facade.

Her mind drifted to the day’s encounters: Esther’s veiled threat, the Prince’s calculating gaze, and the steward’s clipped warnings. Each moment carried its own edge, sharp and unnerving. Cassie had learned to read the undercurrents in people, and the palace bristled with them—unspoken rivalries, unacknowledged alliances, and tension coiled tight enough to snap.

Esther’s words replayed in her mind: You don’t belong here.

Perhaps that was true, but survival didn’t care about belonging. It demanded silence, observation, and precision.

The muffled sounds of the dormitory—a faint cough, the creak of a bunk—seemed to stretch endlessly as she lay awake. Thoughts of the day replayed in her mind, coiling tightly until sleep finally overtook her.

The next morning arrived with the soft clamor of footsteps and muted voices, pulling Cassie from restless dreams. She dressed quickly, blending into the tide of maids heading to their assignments.

The royal dining hall gleamed in the dim morning light, its vast expanse of polished marble and gilded trim reflecting faintly. Cassie moved methodically, her footsteps soundless on the pristine floor. The air smelled faintly of beeswax and lavender polish, a scent that clung to the space like a veneer of civility.

She was crouched near one of the high-backed chairs, her cloth moving in slow, precise circles over its intricate carvings, when the sound of raised voices caught her attention.

Two figures stood near the far end of the hall, their backs turned to her. Their postures were tense, their gestures sharp. Senior officials, judging by their attire—gold-trimmed doublets and heavy rings glinting in the half-light.

“I warned you,” one of them hissed, his voice low but urgent. “He’s watching. Every move, every word—it’s all being tracked.”

“And what would you have me do?” the other shot back, his tone bristling with barely contained frustration. “Walk away now and lose everything?”

“You don’t understand the stakes,” the first man said, his voice tight. “This isn’t just politics anymore. It’s survival.”

Cassie froze, her cloth hovering mid-wipe. She leaned slightly closer, her sharp ears catching fragments of their argument.

“Divided loyalties,” the second man muttered. “Hidden agendas—”

The first man cut him off. “Careful,” he snapped, glancing over his shoulder as if sensing the weight of unseen eyes.

Cassie ducked her head, her heart quickening as the voices dropped further into whispers, the words dissolving into indistinct murmurs. When she glanced up again, they were gone, their footsteps fading into the corridor beyond.

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She remained crouched for a moment longer, her cloth moving absently over the chair’s wood. The dining hall seemed larger now, its silence no longer peaceful but oppressive.

Later that afternoon, Cassie found herself in the servants’ laundry, a space filled with the acrid tang of soap and steam. The rhythmic slap of wet cloth against stone filled the room, mingling with the low hum of conversation.

Lila worked beside her, wringing water from a heavy linen sheet. The older maid had been one of the few who’d spoken to Cassie without malice or suspicion, though her kindness came with its own air of caution.

“Busy morning?” Lila asked, her tone casual.

“Quiet,” Cassie replied, keeping her voice measured.

Lila huffed a laugh, her hands still moving. “Quiet never lasts here. Not in this place.”

Cassie glanced at her, sensing an edge beneath the remark. “You’ve been here a long time,” she ventured.

Lila nodded, her expression briefly shadowed. “Long enough to know the stories,” she said, her voice dropping slightly.

“What stories?” Cassie prompted, her movements slowing.

Lila hesitated, her gaze flicking to the doorway as if ensuring they were alone. Then, in a conspiratorial tone, she said, “People disappear here. Staff, mostly. Those who get too close to things they shouldn’t. You won’t hear it from the nobles, of course, but ask around. Everyone’s heard about the ones who vanished. No goodbyes, no warnings. Just gone.”

Cassie’s grip on the wet linen tightened. “What happened to them?”

Lila shrugged, though the gesture was far from indifferent. “Depends who you ask. Some say they were caught spying. Others say they overheard something meant to stay secret. Either way, no one talks about them for long. Safer that way.”

Their conversation was interrupted by the sharp clang of a bell signaling the next shift, and Lila rose, her face already sliding back into its practiced neutrality.

As Cassie followed her out of the laundry, the weight of Lila’s words lingered.

The patterns emerged slowly, like pieces of a puzzle falling into place. Guards patrolled certain corridors at odd hours, their gazes sharper and more suspicious than usual. Certain nobles avoided each other during court meals, their interactions strained and brittle.

Cassie watched it all from the edges, her sharp eyes catching the glances and murmurs that others overlooked. The palace was more than a den of politics—it was a battlefield.

It was well past midnight when Cassie found herself walking the shadowed corridors of the east wing, a bundle of linens balanced in her arms. The halls were quieter at this hour, the faint crackle of torches the only sound.

Her route took her past the Crown Prince’s quarters, their massive doors flanked by unmoving guards. She paid them no attention, her focus on her task.

As she turned a corner, her steps faltered. Ahead, an open window spilled cold night air into the corridor.

She wasn’t alone.

A faint silhouette stood just beyond the window’s frame, its shape barely discernible against the moonlit sky. Cassie froze, her heart hammering in her chest. The figure didn’t move, its stillness unnerving.

She strained her ears, listening for any sound—breath, footsteps, the faint rustle of fabric—but the night offered nothing.

Her instincts screamed at her to retreat, to slip away before the figure noticed her. But something kept her rooted, her grip tightening on the linens.

The silhouette shifted suddenly, its movement sharp and deliberate. Before she could react, it melted into the shadows, disappearing as if it had never been there.

Cassie exhaled slowly, her breath visible in the chilled air. She glanced toward the Crown Prince’s quarters, her gaze narrowing.

“What are you hiding, Your Highness?” she muttered under her breath.

The bundle of linens felt heavier as she turned and continued down the corridor, her senses heightened. The palace’s secrets were pressing closer, their edges sharp and dangerous.