The citadel of Aetherwyn gleamed under the watchful eye of the moon, its towers like spears piercing a star-scattered sky. Yet within, not all corridors basked in golden light—some still whispered with old shadows, and Kael preferred those.

His induction into the knighthood was done. Oaths spoken. Blades crossed ceremonially. And the warnings… repeated.

“Avoid the west wing.” “Do not speak to her.” “She is not safe.”

The youngest princess. The insane one.

Kael had heard the whispers—how even the maids left her meals by the door and fled. How nobles invoked her name like a curse. Some said she had magic in her blood, or madness, or both. He didn’t believe in court gossip. He only believed in what he could see.

And tonight, he saw something strange.

A melody drifted through the marble halls—barely a sound, more like a memory carried on the wind. Curious, cautious, he followed it through vine-choked archways until he reached a forgotten garden shrouded in moonlight.

There she was.

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Perched on the rim of a cracked fountain, one slipper discarded, a dagger balanced on her knee like a doll’s plaything. Her silks shimmered like stormwater, and her hair was a wild tangle of courtly elegance and untamed chaos. The air around her felt... thin. Fragile. Charged.

She didn’t move at first. Not even when he stepped into view. As if she already knew he was there.

Their eyes met.

There was no fear in her gaze—only an unreadable stillness. Calm. Disarming. Dangerous. A flicker of curiosity, or amusement. Maybe recognition.

He noted the blade between them. Small. Elegant. Poisoned? Likely. It had been placed deliberately—almost theatrically—into the soil.

Her crown sat askew. Her lips curled faintly, like she found some private joke in his presence. Moonlight wrapped around her like a shroud.

She said nothing.

But Kael felt more seen in that silent moment than in all the years he spent in the dark.

The assassin in him measured the distance, catalogued escape routes. The knight in him stood still. Silent. Waiting.

Because somehow, he knew:

This was not just a princess. This was a reckoning in royal skin.

And she had noticed him.