The palace was asleep.

Vaelin crouched in the shadows of the grand corridor, his breath shallow, his stomach twisting in sharp pain. Hunger had been his companion for days now, gnawing at his ribs, making his limbs weak. His fingers trembled—not from fear, but from exhaustion. He needed coin. He needed food. And the wealth in this palace was a mockery of his suffering.

Tonight, he would steal from the royals themselves.

He slipped inside the princess’s chamber with the silence of a ghost. The air smelled of lavender and something warm, something he couldn’t name. The moonlight, spilling through the high-arched windows, bathed everything in silver. His sharp gaze swept the room. A vanity stood in the corner, scattered with delicate bottles and brushes. A gilded chest rested by the foot of an opulent bed draped in soft, flowing fabric.

And then he saw her.

The princess lay beneath the sheer canopy, her dark hair pinned in a slightly loose updo, a few strands slipping free. The soft moonlight touched her fair skin, casting delicate shadows along her cheekbones. Her expression was serene, yet there was something melancholic about it, even in sleep—like a woman who carried the weight of unseen burdens.

She was dressed in an off-white gown, shimmering faintly, the intricate beading near the neckline catching the dim light. A sheer overlay draped her shoulders, making her look almost ethereal. Gold necklaces lay against her collarbone, and dangling golden earrings framed her face. Everything about her spoke of luxury—of a life Vaelin had never known.

He hated her for it.

His eyes flickered to the nightstand. A golden crown sat there, adorned with sparkling stones, worth enough to feed him for a year. Carefully, he reached for it—

A soft rustle.

He froze. The princess stirred, her dark lashes fluttering.