“What lie?”
Her fingers curled around the bag. “Otto used Adelina… and I believed it.”
Cedric frowned. “You couldn’t have known.”
“I should have. I should have seen through the lies like everything else in thisblasted place.”
Her blue eyes met his, and the shame they held unsettled him more than any anger ever could.
“I saw her jealousy, her anger,” she went on, “and I called it proof. It’s how the court works. Any shred of human emotion is used against you, and I fell for it. And I don’t want to stay a moment longer in a place where it’s too easy to be blinded. This place—these ridiculous rules—” She paused, her voice breaking. “It’s suffocating.”
Cedric drew a slow breath. Though he’d lived by those rules throughout his life, he was aware of the gilded bars they used to cage his heart. Court life was not meant for freedom, it was a life curated for appearances, veiled intentions, and a stage where true feelings were liabilities. He understood her yearning for reprieve—the longing for the autonomy she had lost the moment she stepped through the gilded threshold.
He knew because he secretly desired it himself.
“You’re right,” he said quietly.
Her head snapped up, surprised.
“This place is filled with ugliness disguised with glamor… and true beauty will only wilt in these halls.”
Silence, heavy and unyielding, settled over them.
“It’s best then,” he went on, his voice tight, “that you leave before you can no longer recognize yourself.”
She nodded, her chin quivering as if relieved he understood. Then she reached behind her and handed him two notes.
“One is for Their Majesties, and the other is for Princess Adelina.”
Cedric reached for them, but once his skin brushed against hers, he didn’t wish to let go.
His breath caught. The pads of her fingers grazed against his palm—a fleeting touch that held all his secret hopes for their future.
One that could never be. The chasm between their worlds was far too great.
She pulled away too quickly. The thrill of all the unspoken possibilities died when she rushed past him.
Beyond the door, Lucille waited in the corridor, frowning as Nin disappeared down the service stairs. Cedric came to her side, the notes burning against his palm.
“I’m going to miss her,” Lucille whispered, her eyes red-rimmed.
Cedric did not trust his voice—his throat clamped, thick with emotions he couldn’t force away. Bijou whined, leaping from the bed to sit beside him.
“They’re ready for you,” Lucille said, wiping a tear from her cheek and gathering the pup in her arms.
Cedric nodded, following her down the hall and leaving the small room behind.
Instead of a formal hall, Cedric was summoned to a private chamber, where the king and queen awaited him. Princess Marianne stood with them beside the crown prince.
His heart gave a sudden, traitorous lurch. As sunlight slanted through the curtains, his breath caught at the resemblance—the same shade of hair, the same intelligence in her eyes. But the mole at the corner of her lip was missing, the faint scar on her forehead absent.
He missed the features that made her unmistakablyNin.
He bowed low, waiting to be addressed.
“We wish to thank you for your service,” the king said. “What you did for this kingdom will not be forgotten.”
“You saved our daughter,” the queen added.
