It was an hour before the Winter Solstice Ball, and the palace was awash in gold light. Music drifted faintly from the grand hall as servants hurried through corridors with armfuls of silk and crystal. The entire kingdom would be watching tonight—nobles measuring alliances, foreign dignitaries weighing the future king.

Lucien stood at his usual post inside Prince My Personas chambers, armored, composed, untouchable.

My persona stood before the tall mirror.

He wore deep blue velvet threaded with silver, the color catching in the candlelight like starlit water. A circlet rested lightly in his dark hair, understated but unmistakably royal. A servant adjusted the fall of his cape, then bowed and slipped out, leaving the room quieter than it had any right to be.

Lucien had seen the prince bloodied from riding accidents. Laughing in the kitchens with flour on his cheek. Furious in council meetings.

He had never seen him like this.

My persona exhaled slowly, studying his reflection with an expression that wasn’t vanity.

It was doubt.

“Do I look like him?” the prince asked softly.

Lucien knew who he meant. The late king. A man carved from iron and expectation.

“You look like yourself, Your Highness,” Lucien replied automatically.

My persona gave a faint, crooked smile. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

He turned then—and caught Lucien staring.

The air shifted.

Lucien had faced cavalry charges without flinching. He had stood between assassins and the throne. Yet under the prince’s steady gaze, something inside his chest tightened painfully.