Nora stirred awake, the warm silk sheets beneath her unfamiliar. Her eyes fluttered open to the sight of velvet curtains, golden trim, and the subtle scent of cedarwood. This wasn't her room.
Her heart skipped—until she turned and saw him.
Zayan was seated beside the bed, dressed in a black silk shirt, the top buttons undone, revealing a glimpse of his chest. His cold, silver eyes were fixed on her, brows furrowed slightly.
"You passed out on the floor," he said, his voice low but steady. "What happened?"
Nora sat up slowly, ignoring the dull ache in her limbs. "It's nothing, Master," she murmured. "Just… work. I overdid it."
He studied her, not saying a word for a long moment. Then, quietly, he said, "Take care of yourself."
Nora's breath caught in her throat. She turned away, biting her bottom lip to hide the flicker of confusion in her expression.
The devil is… caring?
The next day came with sunshine and silk banners fluttering from every corner of the palace. It was Prince Zayan's 29th birthday, and his mother, Queen Lysandra, had spared no expense. Guests flooded the halls in lavish gowns and sharp suits. Music swelled, and glasses clinked with wine and laughter.
Zayan stood tall and poised, a crown of nobility and detachment. But no matter how many people surrounded him, his eyes always drifted back to her.
Nora.
She wasn't dressed like the others. No jewels, no silk—just her plain maid uniform, quietly working in the background. But something about her presence pulled him in like gravity.
Queen Lysandra moved quickly, introducing Zayan to noble daughters from every corner of the realm.
"This is Lady Elena, the Duke's daughter. She's well-versed in the arts."
Zayan smiled politely, then excused himself before the conversation could begin.
And again.
And again.
He had no interest in them. None of them held his attention—not when she was standing by the window, lost in her thoughts.
Later that evening, after the celebration had quieted and the moonlight filtered into the empty hallways, Nora found herself seated on the high windowsill. The night wind brushed her face as she gazed out into the dark horizon.
Who were they? she wondered. My real parents…? Why don't I know?
"Shouldn't you be in your quarters by now?"
The voice startled her. She turned to find Zayan, hands in his pockets, stepping out from the shadows of the hallway. His jacket was undone, and his hair tousled.
"I—I'm sorry, Master," she said, quickly standing. "I finished my duties and just needed some air…"
He stepped closer.
Too close.
The space between them dissolved, and for a moment, the prince just looked at her. Really looked at her. Her innocence, her confusion, her pain. His eyes dropped to her lips.
He leaned in—just slightly—then froze.
She's still a child.
His chest rose sharply as he exhaled, pulling back.
"No," he murmured under his breath, almost to himself. "You're still too young…"
He turned on his heel and walked away, leaving Nora frozen by the window, heart pounding without knowing why.