The corridors of the east wing were hushed, heavy with morning light. Sophia's slippers made no sound upon the marble tiles as she walked, her two maids trailing discreetly behind her.
Ahead loomed the great double doors to the Prince's study, flanked by armored knights in the household livery. One of them, recognizing her approach, straightened and struck the butt of his spear against the floor.
"Announcing Her Highness, the Consort Princess," the knight's voice rang deep and formal.
The doors parted at once.
Sophia lifted her chin, hiding the small rush of nerves beneath her calm exterior. Inside, behind a grand oak desk littered with scrolls and sealed documents, sat Prince Alexander.
He did not lift his head at once, though his quill paused mid-stroke. When his gaze did rise, his expression was as impenetrable as ever, gray eyes cool, mouth set in a thin line.
But his thoughts betrayed him.
Sophia? At this hour? She never seeks me here.
Sophia caught the flicker of surprise like a candle's flame in the draft. She smoothed her skirts, dipped into a flawless curtsy, and waited for his acknowledgment.
"You may enter," Alexander said evenly, his voice devoid of emotion.
She crossed the chamber with measured steps and settled herself in the chair opposite his desk. A gulf of polished wood separated them, yet the air was charged, thick with unspoken weight.
Her maids lingered uncertainly near the threshold. With a steadying breath, Sophia folded her hands in her lap and lifted her gaze.
"Your Highness," she said softly. "Might I request a private word?"
Alexander's eyes narrowed fractionally. He glanced at Damien, his ever-present shadow, who stood a respectful pace behind his chair.
Private? With me? His thought was laced with suspicion. What is she planning?
Sophia's heart skipped at the edge of his mistrust, but she pressed on.
"I ask only a moment. Just the two of us."
Damien shifted as if to object, but Alexander lifted a hand, calm and commanding. "Leave us."
"My lord—"
"That is an order."
Damien bowed, his eyes sharp upon Sophia as if trying to pierce her intent, before withdrawing. The door clicked shut behind him, sealing them in silence.
Only the faint crackle of the hearth broke the stillness.
Sophia drew a slow breath. Her palms tingled where they rested against the fabric of her gown.
"I came," she began carefully, "not to burden you, but to ask something of importance."
Alexander leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled before his lips. "Speak."
"Do you…" Her voice caught. She forced steadiness. "Do you trust me?"
A faint furrow marked his brow. He regarded her, cool as stone.
"Trust," he said at last, "is not a thing so easily given. Especially in this palace." His eyes sharpened. "And least of all to a consort chosen by others."
Sophia lowered her gaze, absorbing the truth of his words.
Of course. Why should he?
Still, she raised her head again, a flicker of determination igniting her eyes. "I expected no less. Which is why I ask you to hear me now with patience, if not faith."
His silence urged her onward.
"I hold secrets, Your Highness. Ones I cannot reveal lightly. If I speak, you may dismiss me as delusional. Or worse...plotting." She hesitated, her fingers tightening. "But I cannot keep silent. Because if you will allow it, these secrets could serve us both."
Alexander's quill lay abandoned on the desk. His gaze fixed upon her, unreadable, but his mind roiled.
What game does she play now? Secrets? Madness?
Yet beneath the suspicion was a thread of reluctant curiosity.
"And how," he asked, his tone slow, deliberate, "would such secrets benefit me?"
Sophia exhaled. Now. I must tread carefully.
Her voice softened, solemn. "Because I know of things others do not. Skills I should not possess."
Alexander's eyes narrowed.
"I have knowledge," she continued, "of medicine, treatments, remedies, and healing practices unknown to many here."
The silence thickened.
His voice, when it came, was edged in steel. "And how, Consort, does this benefit you? To aid me so freely?"
Sophia tilted her head, her lips curving in the faintest of smiles. "Even healers deserve reward. If I help Your Highness recover, then I too must claim mine."
His brows drew together. "Reward?"
"Yes." Her eyes gleamed with quiet daring. "But I shall name it only when you begin to get better."
The fire crackled between them, the silence thickening.
Alexander's eyes narrowed. "And how am I to know you do not slip poison into these so-called medicines? A reward might come quicker if I were in my grave."
Sophia did not flinch. "Then you must take that risk, Your Highness. Trust and doubt share the same table. It is for you to choose which you will feed."
The words lingered, bold and unshaken.
Alexander leaned forward, his gaze sharp as a blade. "You speak confidently for one whose family has no history in healing. No tutors, no training, nothing. Where then did you gain this knowledge?"
Sophia's breath hitched, but she forced her composure to remain. Slowly, deliberately, she met his stare.
"Tell me, Your Highness…" she said softly, her voice lowering into something dangerous and intimate. "Do you believe in transmigration?"
The silence that followed was heavy, suffocating. The firelight danced across his face, but his expression remained unreadable, only the storm in his eyes betrayed the impact of her words.