As the orchestra’s final notes faded into the air, a polite wave of applause followed. Cassie kept her position at the edge of the ballroom, her gaze lingering briefly on the figures of Theodoric and Lady Esther as they left the center of the room. The nobles resumed their mingling, their laughter and conversation filling the space with a hum that seemed to vibrate through the polished floors.

Cassie adjusted her posture, balancing the now-empty tray in her hands. Her task was done for the moment, and she retreated quietly toward the servant’s station near the far wall. The noise of the crowd dimmed slightly as she moved further from the center, the edges of the ballroom quieter but still thick with tension.

She slipped into the shadows by the refreshment tables, setting the tray down with practiced precision. Nobles strolled nearby, their interactions laced with unspoken barbs and thinly veiled alliances. She felt the weight of their presence even here, their words brushing past her like whispers carried on the wind.

But then the air shifted—a subtle, nearly imperceptible change. Cassie felt it before she saw him, her instincts honed by years of battle tensing at the approach of someone significant.

“Leaving so soon?”

The voice was smooth, almost disarming. Cassie turned to find Prince Dietrich standing just a few steps away, his figure relaxed yet radiating an unmistakable presence.

Prince Dietrich stood a few steps away, his figure relaxed but somehow commanding. His black attire was simple compared to the ostentatious fashions of the other nobles, but the sharpness of his tailoring and the understated silver embroidery marked him as someone who didn’t need to flaunt wealth to exude power. His expression was pleasant, but his eyes, a startling shade of pale blue, held something sharper—something probing.

“Ah, perfect timing,” he said, stepping closer. “I could use a drink—or perhaps just your company.”

Cassie bowed slightly, lowering her gaze but keeping him in her peripheral vision. “I’m sure the wine will suffice, my lord.”

His chuckle was soft, almost disarming. “Come now, no need to be so formal. We’re not in the throne room.”

She straightened, the tray still balanced in her hands. “Formality is a servant’s way of showing respect, my lord.”

Dietrich tilted his head, as though studying her response. “And you’re quite good at it. Almost too good.”

The words were lightly spoken, but there was an undercurrent of curiosity that made her tighten her grip on the tray.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

He gestured for her to follow him toward one of the quieter corners of the ballroom, where the shadows cast by the garlands softened the harsh light of the chandeliers. Cassie hesitated for the briefest moment before obeying, her movements fluid as she fell into step behind him.

“I must admit,” Dietrich began, his tone casual, “it’s fascinating to watch these gatherings unfold. So much effort put into appearances, into little games of power and charm.” He glanced at her, his lips curling into a faint smile. “I imagine you see things others don’t.”

Cassie kept her expression blank. “I see what I am meant to see, my lord.”

“And yet,” he said, pausing to pluck a glass of wine from a nearby table, “you must notice the undercurrents. Who speaks to whom, who avoids whose gaze. It’s a rare perspective, one I find quite valuable.”

He sipped the wine, watching her over the rim of the glass. Cassie forced herself to meet his gaze, her posture straight and deferential.

“I’m afraid my duties leave little time for such observations, my lord,” she said carefully.

Dietrich laughed softly, setting the glass down. “A modest answer. But modesty, I think, is another kind of mask.”

He took a step closer, his voice lowering just enough to force her to focus. “Tell me,” he said, his tone light but pointed, “what do you think of my dear brother tonight?”

The question struck like a blade hidden beneath silk. Cassie tightened her hold on the tray, her pulse quickening.

“It is not my place to think of such things, my lord,” she replied evenly.

Dietrich’s smile didn’t waver, but there was a glint in his eyes now, sharp and predatory. “You’re very practiced at saying nothing, aren’t you? It’s an impressive skill, one not many possess.”

“I serve as best I can,” she said, bowing her head slightly.

“And yet,” he continued, his voice softening as he leaned closer, “you must have thoughts. Surely you’ve noticed how the Crown Prince... carries himself. How he interacts—or doesn’t—with those around him. It must be fascinating, working so close to him.”

Cassie kept her gaze down, her breath steady despite the tension tightening in her chest. “The Crown Prince is my superior, my lord. That is all I notice.”

For a moment, Dietrich said nothing. The silence stretched, heavy and deliberate, as though he were daring her to speak again.

When he finally broke the silence, his tone had shifted. It was still pleasant, but there was something colder beneath it, something calculated.

“You’re quite good at avoiding questions, Cassandra,” he said, the faint emphasis on her name drawing her attention.

Cassie looked up, meeting his gaze. His smile had faded slightly, replaced by an expression that was harder to read.

“A useful skill,” he continued, his voice soft but pointed. “But be careful. In this palace, secrets can be dangerous.”

The words hung in the air, their meaning unmistakable. Dietrich straightened, his smile returning as if the moment hadn’t happened.

“Well,” he said lightly, “it seems I’ve taken up enough of your time. I’ll let you return to your duties.”

Cassie bowed, her movements precise, and turned to leave. But as she walked away, her thoughts churned.

Dietrich had been probing her, that much was clear. But why? What did he hope to gain from their conversation?

She exhaled slowly, steadying herself as she moved toward the servant’s station. Whatever game Dietrich was playing, she had no intention of becoming a piece on his board.