Cassie's footsteps echoed faintly in the stone hallway, a stark contrast to the warmth and luxury she had just left behind. The cold, hard stone underfoot and the dim light created an atmosphere of foreboding, making her acutely aware of the shift from comfort to uncertainty.

She drew a deep breath, the chilling air of the palace corridors cutting through the suffocating weight of Dietrich’s final words: “I’ll be watching, Cassandra.”

It wasn’t the kind of statement she could dismiss. Not from someone like him.

The distant hum of activity faded as she moved deeper into the quieter halls. She kept her steps steady, her tray empty but her thoughts full. Even the faintest slip could cost her dearly here, where power flowed like an underground current, invisible but deadly.

Cassie passed through a quieter wing of the palace, dimly lit with only the occasional flicker of torchlight reflecting off cold marble. The echoes of her footsteps died as she stopped near an alcove. Ahead, the hushed voices of two men caught her attention, sharp and distinct in the silence.

She moved closer, her back pressed against the stone, the shadows swallowing her as she listened.

“I’m telling you, he’s too rigid,” one voice whispered, his tone low but urgent. “The Crown Prince’s refusal to compromise will drive the southern houses away. And without their support…” He trailed off, the unspoken consequence clear.

“Enough,” his companion snapped. “The council won’t let it come to that. They’ll side with him if it means stability.”

“Stability? The younger prince would offer them more. His alliances are… flexible. Strategic.”

Cassie’s pulse quickened. They were speaking plainly—too plainly—for such dangerous topics. The southern envoy, the younger prince, the council—all threads in a tangled web she’d barely begun to map.

“Careful,” the second man hissed, his voice dropping further. “If anyone hears us—”

A cough interrupted them, and the sound of shuffling feet signaled their departure. Cassie stayed pressed against the wall, her mind spinning as their footsteps faded into the distance.

‘The council. The southern houses. Alliances shifting beneath the surface.’

She glanced back toward the way she had come, toward the ballroom now distant and muffled. The glittering display inside was nothing but a mask, hiding cracks that ran deep and jagged. She stepped out of the shadows, her jaw tightening as she moved on.

The corridor opened into a small side hall, its windows overlooking the vast gardens bathed in moonlight. Cassie paused, drawn to the cool glow. The world outside the palace looked untouched by the turmoil brewing within its walls.

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She leaned lightly against the edge of a marble column, the stillness giving her a moment to think.

From her vantage point, Cassie could see the edges of the ballroom’s grand terrace. Guests in glittering finery spilled outside, their laughter carrying faintly on the wind. The warmth of their lanterns lit the garden paths, but she didn’t feel comforted by the scene.

Instead, her thoughts turned to Evelyn’s stories.

“There’s always a heroine,” Evelyn had said once, the memory surfacing unbidden. “The commoner who rises to greatness, who steps into the court’s chaos and becomes the heart of it all.”

Cassie’s gaze dropped to her hands, her fingers brushing the cool stone of the column. Where was that heroine now?

The absence gnawed at her. If Evelyn’s predictions were right, this moment—the tensions she’d overheard, the unrest in the court—was supposed to belong to the heroine. But there was no sign of her.

‘Has the story derailed? Or am I missing something?’

The thought chilled her. If there was no heroine, then who was meant to bridge the rift between the two princes? To heal the court’s fractures?

She shook her head, pushing the thought aside. Speculation was useless. What mattered was surviving whatever came next.

As Cassie turned away from the column, intent on leaving the alcove, the sound of approaching footsteps froze her mid-step. The rhythm of the stride—measured, deliberate—sent a chill racing up her spine.

She didn’t need to look to know who it was.

“Fancy meeting you again here,” Dietrich said smoothly, his voice cutting through the quiet like a blade.

Cassie turned slowly, schooling her expression into calm neutrality. Dietrich leaned casually against the wall, his sharp smile gleaming even in the dim light.

“You have a knack for finding the most… intriguing places to linger,” he remarked, his tone laced with amusement.

“I needed air,” Cassie replied, her voice steady despite the knot forming in her stomach.

“Of course,” Dietrich said, pushing off the wall and stepping closer. “The ballroom can be… suffocating. All those eyes watching, waiting for a slip. But you wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

His gaze was piercing, searching for cracks she refused to show.

“I wouldn’t,” she said evenly.

Dietrich chuckled, the sound low and unsettling. “You’re a curious one, Cassandra. You blend in so well, and yet, you stand out. A contradiction, really.”

He moved closer still, his presence invasive. “Tell me,” he murmured, his voice dropping, “do you ever feel like someone’s watching you?”

Cassie’s heart hammered, but her face betrayed nothing. “Should I?”

Dietrich’s smile widened, a flash of teeth. “Perhaps. After all, it’s the quiet ones who often have the most to hide.”

His words hung in the air, heavy with implication. Without waiting for a response, he stepped back, his smile fading into something colder.

“I’ll be watching, Cassandra,” he said softly, his tone almost playful. “Don’t disappoint me.”

And then he was gone, disappearing down the corridor as silently as he had arrived.

Cassie stood frozen for a moment, the faint echo of Dietrich’s steps fading into silence. The air felt heavier now, the cool draft from the window doing little to ease the tension in her chest.

She turned her gaze toward the ballroom one last time, the faint glow of lanterns spilling through its doors. The absence of the heroine, Dietrich’s probing, and the whispers of fractured alliances weighed heavily on her.

Her grip tightened on the edge of the column. Whatever game this was, it wasn’t Evelyn’s anymore. It was hers—and it was far more dangerous than either of them had imagined.