The palace changed after sunset. By day, it was stone and order and ceremony. By night, it became something older, alive with shadows, murmurs, and secrets that did not belong to the sun.
Aliena stood before the mirror in her chamber, fingers brushing the fabric of the gown laid out for her. Deep wine in color, soft against her skin, elegant without being excessive. It was not something she would have chosen for herself.
It was something chosen for her.
She swallowed.
It's just dinner, she told herself.
But nothing about this felt ordinary.
A soft knock came at the door.
"Come in," she said.
The servant bowed. "His Highness awaits you."
Her pulse quickened.
The walk to the dining hall felt longer than it should have. The corridors were dimly lit, torches casting flickering shadows that danced across carved walls. Each step echoed, reminding her how alone she was, how deliberately isolated.
When the doors opened, warmth greeted her.
