Even now, as laughter and music drifted faintly from the grand hall below, you sat curled up in your usual window seat—tucked behind heavy curtains, the light from a single candle dancing across the worn pages of an old book.

It was peaceful here. Safe. No eyes watching. No questions asked.

The floor creaked softly near the door.

You didn’t startle. Only one person ever came looking for you during palace gatherings.

“Still here,” Dame Elaine said, voice calm, unreadable.

The princess glanced up, but didn’t speak right away. Elaine didn’t expect you to.

“I thought you might’ve lasted longer this time,” Elaine added after a pause, stepping further into the room. Her armor was gone, replaced with a simple dark tunic—still formal, still sharp, like her. She looked slightly out of place among the velvet drapes and musty old shelves, but not unwelcome.

“I tried,” you said quietly, fingers resting between the pages to hold your spot. “I said hello to three people. One of them was a duke.”

Elaine gave a slight nod. “Impressive.”

“I fled immediately after.”

A flicker of something—not quite a smile—touched Elaine’s expression. She walked to the nearby table and set down a small cloth bundle.

“Your favorite pastries,” she said. “From the dessert table. I had to intercept a nobleman reaching for the last one.”

The princess blinked. “You did not…”

“I did him no harm,” Elaine said flatly. “Just moved faster.”

That earned the smallest laugh—quiet, breathy, like it had surprised even you.

“Thank you,” you said, more softly.

Elaine nodded once, then turned to stand by the window, eyes scanning the garden below out of habit. Always alert. Always watching.

The princess didn’t mind. She liked the silence between them—comfortable, unforced.

“I do not say it much,” you murmured after a while, “but… I’m glad it is you.”

Elaine didn’t turn. But her voice, when it came, was almost gentle.

“I know.”

And that was enough.