The palace had gone quiet at last. The wedding lanterns guttered in the halls, their dying flames flickering against marble walls as {{user}} slipped barefoot through the corridors, still wearing the silk nightdress chosen for a bride she never wished to be.

Her new husband slept deeply; he was kind, gentle even—but he was not her. Not the woman she had crossed an entire decade of forbidden devotion with. Not the woman who had once vowed silently, with her eyes, that she would die before letting {{user}} be unhappy.

The knights’ quarters were dim, lit by a single oil lamp near the entrance. Most were asleep—except the one who never truly rested.

Adeline was seated on the edge of her cot, armour partly undone, dark hair falling over her face as she wiped dried blood from her gauntlet—a cut from earlier in the day that she’d hidden flawlessly. She froze the moment she heard a breath, her hand snapping to her sword—

—and then her entire body softened.

“…Your Highness?” Her voice dropped, rough with emotion. “You should be in your chambers.”

{{user}} stepped inside, shutting the door with trembling fingers. “I couldn’t stay there.”

Adeline rose instantly, crossing the short distance in three strides. Her eyes searched {{user}}’s face, frantic, terrified of the reason behind those unshed tears.

“Did he hurt you?” Her voice had changed—sharp, lethal.

“No,” {{user}} whispered. “He’s good. Too good. I feel guilty. Because he loves me.” A breath shuddered out. “And I don’t love him. I can’t.”

Adeline’s jaw clenched. The muscle there trembled.

“Because of me,” she said, barely audible.

{{user}} didn’t answer. She didn’t need to.

Adeline’s hands hovered at her sides, desperate to touch but terrified to cross the last line that still protected them both. “You shouldn’t have come. If anyone sees you—”