He was halfway down the corridor to the ballroom when a small hand closed around his arm.

“Elion,” she said, breathless and smiling, as if she were about to confess a harmless secret. “Forget these people tonight. Come with me. I found something you must see.”

He stiffened instantly. The music from the ballroom pulsed through the stone like a second heartbeat. “Your Highness,” he murmured, already glancing toward the open doors, “I can’t. I’m expected. If I’m not there—”

She didn’t let him finish. She tightened her grip and tugged, not roughly, just decisively, the way she always did when she’d already decided the outcome. “Just for a moment,” she said, and there was something in her voice that left no room for refusal.

She pulled him through a side passage and out into the gardens, where lantern light pooled softly over hedges and marble paths. The night air was cool, scented with damp earth and blossoms closing themselves to sleep. All except one.

“There,” she said, stopping suddenly.

The flower stood alone near a low wall, its petals pale and luminous, unfurling despite the late hour. It shimmered faintly, as if holding stolen moonlight in its veins.

“It only blooms at night,” she whispered. “The gardeners didn’t even know it could.”

Elion stared, struck silent despite himself. “It’s… beautiful,” he said at last. Dangerous words, spoken without a joke to hide behind.

She watched the flower, not him. In the soft light, she looked almost unreal—dark hair braided thickly over one shoulder, the braid smooth and careful, tied at the end with a simple ribbon. A delicate golden crown rested in her hair, more ornament than symbol. Her gown was pale gold, light fabric falling softly over her frame, embroidered so subtly it caught the light only when she moved. Her face was calm, thoughtful, her large brown eyes reflecting the lantern glow, her expression gentle but distant, as if she carried thoughts she never spoke aloud.

They stayed only a few minutes. Then she smiled again, thanked him for coming, and sent him back inside as if nothing had happened.

It wasn’t until later, in the servants’ corridor, that the truth found him.

A northern ruler had been present that night. A cruel one. A man known for breaking jesters for sport.

Elion stood very still as the whispers passed.

Slowly, he understood.

She hadn’t wanted to see a flower.

She had wanted him alive.