Cassie rose earlier than usual today. Before the bells had even sounded, Cassie was already awake, sitting in the dim light of the dormitory, her mind racing. Cassie rubbed her stiff hands together, the cold of the early morning biting against her skin. The air in the dormitory carried an unusual tension, thick and almost suffocating, as if the walls themselves whispered rumors.

The disarray from the night before lingered in her mind. Someone had rifled through her things—nothing stolen, but the intent unmistakable. She’d slept little, her mind running through the possibilities.

She barely had time to piece together her suspicions before a sharp knock on the door broke the stillness, and Cassie tensed, turning toward it.

The steward stood there, his face drawn with an expression that bordered on annoyance. “The Crown Prince has summoned you,” he said, his tone curt and businesslike.

Cassie straightened. “Now?”

“Immediately,” the steward replied, already turning away. “Best not to keep him waiting.”

Her heart thudded heavily in her chest as she reached for her shawl, slipping it over her shoulders. Summons from the Crown Prince were never casual.

As the door closed behind him, Cassie forced herself to move. He knows. The thought settled heavily as she straightened her dress and made her way toward the prince’s private study.

The study was colder than she expected. The high arched windows let in a flood of winter light, casting sharp angles across the polished wood floors. Rows of books lined the walls, their spines immaculate, while a faint trace of ink and leather filled the air.

Crown Prince Theodoric stood by the window, his back to her, his figure still and imposing. The silence in the room was suffocating.

Cassie hesitated at the threshold, her footsteps deliberately soft as she entered. She stopped a respectful distance away, clasping her hands tightly in front of her.

“Do you know why you’re here?” His voice broke the silence, cold and precise.

Cassie swallowed. “No, Your Highness.”

He turned then, his sharp gaze cutting through her. His expression was unreadable, his eyes fixed on her with an intensity that made her pulse quicken.

“The equipment,” he said. “The sabotage. I was told you discovered it.”

Cassie braced herself, choosing her words carefully. “Yes, Your Highness. Several items were damaged—cut straps, frayed loops. It wasn’t an accident.”

“And yet,” he said, his tone flattening, “the steward dismissed it.”

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She hesitated. “Yes, Your Highness.”

Theodoric moved closer, the weight of his presence pressing down on her. “What do you think?”

Cassie’s breath caught, but she didn’t falter. “I believe it was deliberate, Your Highness. The damage wasn’t natural wear. It was targeted.”

His gaze narrowed, his silence stretching uncomfortably long. Cassie fought the urge to shift under his scrutiny, her shoulders squared despite the tension coiling in her chest.

“You’re certain,” he said finally.

“Yes.”

The word landed heavily between them.

Theodoric turned away, his fingers brushing the spine of a nearby book absently. “And you think the steward’s dismissal was wrong.”

“I do,” she replied carefully.

For a moment, she thought he might dismiss her. But instead, he gestured toward the door. “You’ll oversee the remaining preparations. Report directly to me if you notice anything else.”

Cassie blinked, her composure briefly slipping. “Your Highness?”

“You heard me,” he said, his voice like steel. “I trust you can manage it.”

The dismissal was clear, but as she turned to leave, his voice stopped her.

“Cassandra.”

She glanced back, her breath catching at the way he said her name.

“Don’t make me regret this,” he said, his tone soft but edged with warning.

The days that followed blurred into a whirlwind of activity. Cassie worked tirelessly, moving between the stables, the armory, and the kitchens with purpose. The Crown Prince’s directive had granted her a new role, one that didn’t go unnoticed by the other servants.

“She’s always in the thick of things now,” one maid muttered, her tone laced with envy. “Must be nice to be the prince’s favorite.”

Cassie ignored the whispers, focusing instead on the tasks Theodoric had assigned her. She inspected every piece of equipment, her hands steady as she checked for faults. She coordinated with grooms and cooks, ensuring the provisions were flawless. Every detail passed through her hands, her vigilance unrelenting.

Despite the weight of her new responsibilities, her interactions with Theodoric remained sparse. He spoke to her only when necessary, his tone formal and measured. Yet there were moments—small, fleeting moments—when something shifted.

Once, as she delivered a report on the provisions, she caught the faintest flicker of approval in his expression.

“Efficient,” he remarked, his words brief but meaningful.

Another time, as she adjusted the straps on a bridle, he passed by, his gaze lingering briefly before he continued on without a word.

It wasn’t warmth, but it was something.

As the hunt approached, the palace grew quieter. The preparations were nearly complete, and the tension that had simmered beneath the surface all week began to ease.

Cassie found herself alone in the stables, the soft rustle of hay and the steady breathing of the horses filling the space. She brushed down one of the royal mounts, her movements slow and methodical, her thoughts drifting.

“You don’t belong here.”

The voice startled her, breaking the stillness. She turned sharply to find Crown Prince Theodoric standing at the stable’s entrance, his figure framed by the fading light of dusk.

“Your Highness,” she said, quickly dipping her head.

He stepped closer, his boots crunching softly against the straw-covered floor. “You’re too capable for a servant,” he said, his tone matter-of-fact.

Cassie’s grip on the brush tightened. She opened her mouth to respond, but no words came.

Theodoric studied her for a moment longer, his gaze steady but unreadable. Then he turned to leave, his cloak sweeping behind him.

“Get some rest,” he said over his shoulder. “Tomorrow will be… demanding.”

And then he was gone, leaving her alone with the weight of his words.

The brush fell from her hand, landing soundlessly in the hay. She stared after him, her chest tight with something she couldn’t name.

You don’t belong here.

The statement lingered, echoing in her mind long after the stable doors closed.