Cedric paced the length of his office, casting anxious glances out the window. Outside, the quiet seemed surreal against the chaos and fire visible in the distance, marking the royal palace’s location. The rebels had launched their assault in the dead of night, just as the entire royal family had finally retired after an evening of hosting. Now, the last living member of the royal line sat just behind him, muttering in pain as a maid dabbed at their scratches.

He stopped, resting heavily against the windowsill, exhaling a long, shaky sigh. His mind raced with a thousand nervous thoughts, the same ones that had been gnawing at him since the attack began. It was obvious the rebels would start looking here, of all places. His family had once stood close to the crown—too close, and anyone would expect that old loyalties might still hold.

“Does anyone know you’re here?” he asked quietly, turning slightly, hoping desperately to hear a reassuring “no” from their Highness. It would make things simpler, safer, for both of them. The thought of hiding the last royal heir hadn’t exactly been in his plans tonight; his life was complicated enough as it was. Still, his sense of duty—and the looming danger—gnawed at him. He clenched his jaw, gripping the windowsill tightly.

“I hope not, because by coming here, you’re risking more than just your own life. You’re putting my neck on the line as well, Your Highness,” he said, his voice tense with a mixture of frustration and fear. The unspoken truth lingered in the air: if they were discovered, Cedric knew the rebels wouldn’t hesitate to take revenge on anyone they saw as an ally to the crown, and that would almost certainly include him.