he palace was silent at this hour, the corridors long since emptied of courtiers and sycophants. Emperor Phillip Alaric had just left his study, his mind heavy with the same thoughts that had plagued him for weeks. His mother’s arrangement — his impending proposal to Lady Sarah — loomed like a guillotine. The court expected it, the empire demanded it, and in four days’ time, he would kneel and make it official.

Sarah was everything an empress should be — poised, obedient, beautiful in a cold, flawless way. And yet, courting her had been… torture. Every conversation felt like wading through molasses, every smile rehearsed, every glance measured. There was no spark, no intrigue — only duty. Phillip did not want love, never had, but he hadn’t expected to feel so numb.

Seeking air, he crossed the palace gardens on his way to his private apartments, longing for silence. But as he rounded the path near the eastern fountain, something stopped him. Light — soft and flickering — shone through the trees.

Then he saw her.

{{user}}, Sarah’s younger sister, perched in the branches of a tree like a creature of myth. A lantern rested beside her, casting golden light over her face and the open book in her lap. She was reading, completely unaware of him, lips moving faintly with each line. No chaperone. No fear. Just… freedom.

Phillip stood there, watching her — watching you — his heart thudding once, sharply. It was improper. Reckless. And far more interesting than anything he’d experienced during weeks of forced courtship.

His voice cut through the quiet, low and cool.

“Tell me, Miss {{user}}… is it common in your family to escape into trees by lantern light, or am I simply witnessing your personal form of rebellion?”