Morning came like a blade slipped beneath silk, quiet but dangerous.
The sun spilled through latticed windows, soft gold lighting the corners of my chamber.
Elise helped me dress, her fingers moving with their usual gentleness, but she glanced at me more than usual.
Like she wanted to ask something but couldn't quite find the courage.
"Do you wish to step out today, Your Highness?" she asked, voice tentative, not assuming.
I didn't answer right away.
But the walls were suffocating. The air inside the palace stale with silence and surveillance.
"I want to walk," I said. "Somewhere not carved from stone."
She smiled, relieved. "There's a merchant square just outside the eastern gate. They sell winter silk, carved combs, imported sugar plums from the south. If you wear something plain, they won't recognize you."
"Then help me change," I said.
And so, I shed the name for a day.
Not the person.
I dressed simply, robe dyed pale ash with a modest sash, my hair braided and pinned without jewels.
The blade, as always, stayed at my waist, hidden by a woven belt of silver thread. A habit now. No armor. Even in peacetime.
We slipped through the side passage, passed the courtyards where noblewomen fanned themselves under flowering trees.
No one stopped us.
No one looked twice.
The gates opened.
And suddenly, the world was larger again.
The air tasted different beyond the palace walls. Fresher. Earthier.
There was noise here, life, real and unfiltered. Vendors shouted prices in loud, musical voices.
Children chased each other around baskets of herbs. Bells chimed above cloth stalls that fluttered in the wind.
Elise was smiling. Genuinely.
"You should eat this," she said, pointing to a small cake glazed with honey and walnuts. "It's from the western provinces. They say it brings luck."
I paid the vendor, letting her keep the change. It wasn't luck i needed.
It was time.
We walked slowly through the street, arms brushing occasionally.
I felt… almost human again.
Like the girl i once was before the palace turned me into something colder.
But the feeling didn't last.
Because the air changed.
It was faint, barely a whisper, but i felt it.
The heaviness.
A ripple down my spine.
The way some animals freeze seconds before a storm breaks.
Someone was watching.
Someone was following.
"Elise," I murmured, tone even. "Stay beside me."
She blinked, confused. "What is it—"
"Don't speak."
We continued walking. I didn't glance back. Didn't show fear.
The crowd thinned ahead, leading into a quiet stretch of alley behind the ceramic stalls.
Too quiet.
Too still.
And then—
I heard it.
A footfall too light.
A breath not mine.
And the wind changed again.
I moved before thought could catch up.
In one fluid motion, I drew the blade from my waist.
Steel hissed.
And i turned, just in time to stop a sword that had been inches from Elise's back.
CLANG.
Sparks burst where our blades met.
The man was masked, black silk over his face, only his eyes showing. Eyes that widened in surprise.
He hadn't expected me to react.
Let alone defend.
His two companions emerged from the shadows. Same dark clothes. Same masks. All armed. All fast.
But i was faster.
I stepped forward, driving him back with three strikes in rapid succession.
Steel rang against steel, and my wrist turned sharp, fluid, exact, honed from years of practice in silence.
He parried sloppily.
His grip weak.
I sidestepped, pivoted, brought the hilt of my sword down against his shoulder.
He fell with a grunt.
The second man lunged from behind.
I ducked, twisted low, and swept his legs from beneath him.
He hit the ground hard.
The third tried to flank me, aiming high.
I blocked his overhead strike with my left forearm, wincing at the impact, but i didn't stop.
My blade cut across his side in a clean, practiced arc.
He cried out, stumbled, bled.
The first man tried to rise.
I kicked him in the ribs.
Hard.
He wheezed and dropped again.
They weren't trained soldiers.
They were hired blades. Sloppy. Predictable.
And i was not who i used to be.
Every move was instinct. Precision.
I had trained alone in the shadows of the palace, long before they placed a crown on my head.
I learned from men who never asked questions, only demanded results.
I had learned to defend myself long before anyone offered to protect me.
The third man backed away, blade trembling in his hand.
I advanced, slow and steady.
"Still want to see if the rumors are true?" I said, voice low.
He hesitated.
Ran.
Coward.
The others scrambled after him, dragging their wounded.
In seconds, the alley was empty again.
Except for me.
And Elise.
She hadn't moved.
She was still standing exactly where i left her, frozen, breath caught, eyes wide as full moons.
"Princess Seraphine," she whispered.
I looked at her.
Not a word passed between us for a long moment.
She blinked. Her lips parted, then closed again. The silence trembled.
"I didn't know," she finally said. "I didn't know you could fight like that."
"You weren't supposed to."
The wind picked up, tugging at my sleeves. My blade gleamed in the sunlight, blood already drying at the edge.
"They would've killed us," she said, stunned.
"They tried."
She stepped closer, her voice lower now. "You saved my life."
I didn't answer.
Because if i admitted i cared about that, I'd have to admit i was still capable of caring at all.
And i wasn't sure i was.
"Let's go," I said instead.
We left the alley in silence.
And the city, once loud and vivid, felt different now.
Like something had shifted.
Like someone had seen too much.
But it didn't matter.
Let them whisper.
Let them watch.
Let the palace hear tales of the Crown Princess with a sword at her hip and blood on her sleeves.
Let them wonder what i'd become.
Because now they knew.
I'm not a girl who's waiting to be saved.
I was the storm they tried to contain.
We returned before sunset.
The sky bled orange above the palace gates, and the guards barely glanced at us as we entered, two women cloaked in silence, one with a steady gait and the other still shaken.
Elise didn't speak the entire way back. Her fingers trembled slightly, hidden beneath her sleeves.
She was trying to process what she saw. Trying to find the version of me that she used to know.
The halls of the inner palace welcomed us with its usual cold, the kind that didn't come from air, but from marble floors and eyes that always watched.
Elise left me at the threshold of my chamber, bowing low as always.
But her voice caught before she turned away.
"Your Highness…"
I looked at her.
She hesitated. "Will you… tell anyone what happened?"
"No."
"But they should know," she said, too honest. "That you—"
"They won't believe me."
And that was the truth, wasn't it?
I shut the door before she could say more.
I didn't sleep.
Again.
I sat in front of the mirror, brushing my hair slowly, fingers catching in the tangles formed by wind and fight.
There were faint scratches on my arms now, remnants of the alley, like signatures of the violence i refused to run from.
I traced one with the edge of my comb.
A red line, shallow but aching.
What was i becoming?
Someone dangerous.
Someone who no longer waited for truth to speak louder than lies.
A knock came. Gentle. Polite.
I didn't answer.
The door opened anyway.
He never waits for permission.
Lucien stepped in, dressed in charcoal robes threaded with obsidian. His hair was loosely tied, a few strands falling across his forehead, as if the wind had touched him, too.
I turned back to the mirror.
"You've been out," he said.
No accusation. Just fact.
"You've been watching."
Still, no reaction.
"You know what happened," I said.
He moved closer. "I know you were attacked."
I met his gaze in the mirror. "Then why do you look calm?"
"Because you're still alive."
I turned slowly.
"And if i hadn't been?" I asked. "Would you be this calm then, too?"
His expression didn't change, but something flickered in his eyes. Something i couldn't name. "You had a sword."
I almost laughed.
"That's not protection," I said. "That's desperation."
"You're skilled," he said.
"You sent men to test that already," I snapped. "How did the second attempt go? Pleased with the results?"
His jaw tightened. "I didn't send anyone."
I stood.
He didn't flinch when i approached.
"You always know what happens before it happens, Lucien," I said, my voice like frost. "You always know who moves through your palace, who breathes too loudly, who breaks the order."
He said nothing.
"So don't insult me with silence now."
His gaze dropped to my arm.
His fingers reached out, as if to touch the faint smear of dried blood. But i pulled away before he could.
"I handled it," I said.
"I heard."
"You seem disappointed."
"I'm not."
A beat of silence.
Then he looked at me again, this time slower. Calculating. Not with the gaze of a lover. Not even of a wife.
He looked at me like i was something newly unearthed.
Like he was reassessing the threat.
"You really would've killed them," he said.
I didn't respond.
Because it wasn't a question.
He stepped back. "I'm placing additional guards outside your chamber."
I laughed. Bitter. Quiet. "To protect me? Or to keep me inside?"
He didn't answer.
He didn't need to.
Lucien never protects what he can contain.
He only protects what he can't control.